FORMULA 1 GIRLIE

However, Peter’s body betrayed him in his sleep. He moves a lot in his sleep, always a restless sleeper. Sometimes you swear that he’s trying to push you off the bed. Though tonight, he does the exact opposite.

You stir awake faintly in the middle of the night. You feel a warmth that does not come from the blanket covering you. Your brows furrow in confusion, you blink your eyes as you glance down.

At some point during the night, he had somehow crossed the distance he tried so hard to maintain. His arm is now around your waist, face now buried against your shoulder, and a leg tangled with yours under the blankets.

“Sorry..” He suddenly mumbles, barely audible. Your eyes widen a bit as you look at his face, he’s deep asleep while apologizing and clinging onto you. “Didn’t mean it.” He mumbles again as his fingers unconsciously curl lightly into your shirt. “Hng.. Babe, sorry, babe..” You saw how the crease between his eyebrows deepens as he continues to apologize in his sleep.

The argument was haunting him even in his sleep.

You almost laugh, but then he shifts again, his grip tightens even more. “Love you.. Really..” He mumbles and squeezes your body gently in his arms. Your chest aches. You feel bad that you slept mad at him and didn’t even give him a chance to make it up to you.

Slowly, you fully turn to him and bury your face on his neck. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding in. The furrow in his brows immediately softens, like it’s all he also really needs to calm his mind down.

Actions are better than words, anyways.

When morning comes, you’re the first to wake up. Your elbow presses into the mattress as you prop your head up while quietly looking down at Peter. Peter wakes up, panicking. He blinks multiple times. “Okay I can explain–” he tries to sit up, his voice raspy from sleep. Every memory from yesterday comes rushing back. The argument, the failed apologies..

You unexpectedly run your fingers through his disheveled silver hair, fixing it. Peter freezes, but deep inside, it actually starts calming him down. “Your hair’s so cute.” You whisper softly. Peter blinks.. He's thinking; Is this a dream? However, he hopes it's not. He hopes that he’s finally forgiven.

“You know..” Peter starts carefully, looking up at you gently, there’s still worry in his eyes. “I had this whole apology speech prepared..”

“Well.. I had several. Most of them were terrible.” He confessed gently.

“I could tell.” You respond along with a soft chuckle that he had been dying to hear since yesterday. “So instead, you decided to hug me and apologize in your sleep.”

Peter's eyes widened a bit at that. “I– did..?” He asks, amused at what you told him. You nod at that, a smile on your lips. There it is, that smile he had also been waiting for since yesterday. Finally.

A slow smile of relief starts to form on his lips. 

“Holy shit. At least that worked.”

likes/reblogs/comments are very much appreciated! 🫶

you were dustin henderson’s old sister.

the one who spent most of her time trying to study or trying to stop your little brother from blowing up the basement.

you weren’t unpopular, exactly, but you weren’t part of the spotlight either. you kept your head down. got good grades. and tried to survive without drawing too much attention.

steve harrington was the opposite.

king steve. 

the guy who ruled the school.

he had everything — looks, money, status, and a different girl on his arm every other week. 

and you had never been on his radar.

until tommy hagan started loudly crushing on you.

tommy had clearly not gotten that memo. 

and for weeks, he had been bothering you.

every morning he’d lean against your locker like he owned it. flashing what he probably thought was a charming grin. making lame jokes. trying way too hard to flirt. he wasn’t subtle at all. 

he told anyone who would listen that he was going to ‘’bag henderson’s sister’’. it was embarrassing and annoying, especially because you had zero interest in him.

you turned him down politely the first few times. then less politely. but tommy was nothing if not persistent. 

and then steve harrington noticed. his best friend. 

one afternoon after the final bell, you were at your locker switching out books when you overheard them. steve was walking down the hallway with tommy, carol, and a couple of the other guys. tommy was being loud and obnoxious as usual.

“i’m telling you, man, i’m gonna ask her out this weekend,” tommy bragged loudly. “she’s fucking hot. she keeps playing hard to get but i know she wants it. i’m wearing her down.”

steve stopped walking.

“you’re serious?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “dustin henderson’s sister?”

“yeah, dude,” tommy laughed, puffing out his chest. “she’s quiet, but i bet she’s a freak once you get her alone.”

something shifted in steve’s expression. 

he didn’t laugh along like he normally would. 

instead, his eyes narrowed slightly, almost like he had just decided something.

then, steve started paying attention to you.

it began small.

he nodded at you in the hallway. then he started saying “hey” when he passed by. soon he was waiting by your locker in the mornings, leaning against it with that famous king smirk.

“you know tommy’s got a massive crush on you, right?” he said one morning, arms crossed.you rolled your eyes, shoving books into your locker. 

“yeah. he’s not exactly subtle.” steve chuckled, low and warm. 

“he’s an idiot. you deserve way better than that tool.”

from that day on, steve turned up the charm.

he started walking with you between classes, even when it took him out of his way. 

he teased you about the stack of books you always carried. 

he made sure to sit near you at lunch sometimes, right next to him, much to tommy’s visible annoyance. 

carol was catty at first, throwing little comments your way, but steve shut her down every single time with just a look.

tommy’s dirty looks became more frequent. steve seemed to enjoy it. 

every time tommy tried to talk to you, steve would appear out of nowhere, sling an arm around your shoulders, and pull you closer like it was the most natural thing in the world.

what started as steve stepping in to shut tommy down quickly turned into something else. 

but he never asked you to be his girlfriend. 

he never took you on official dates. 

it was a fling. a messy, heated situationship that neither of you defined. you would make out in empty classrooms, in his car after school, and sometimes in the bathrooms.

and you? you felt completely out of your depth.

you kissed a couple of boys before, but never like this. 

you always felt awkward, unsure, like you didn’t know how to kiss properly. you never took control. you just followed steve’s lead, hoping you weren’t doing it wrong.

it happened again during lunch.

steve found you in the hallway, didn’t say a word, just grabbed your hand and pulled you into the male’s bathroom near the gym. 

“steve—” you started, heart racing.

the second the door was locked, he pushed you against the sink and kissed you hard.

his mouth was hungry, tongue sliding against yours as he pressed his body into you. 

you tried to kiss him back, but you felt clumsy, unsure. you never quite knew what to do with your tongue or how much pressure to use.

steve didn’t seem to mind. he kissed you deeper, tilting your head the way he wanted, dominating the kiss completely.

steve pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark.

you moaned softly into the kiss, your hands gripping his polo shirt. 

then steve didn’t waste time. he lifted you onto the sink, stepping between your legs, his hands sliding under your sweater.

“fuck, i’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he muttered against your lips.

you let out a soft sound when his lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly on your skin. 

his body was warm and solid against yours, and for a moment you forgot where you were.

just as steve’s hand started sliding higher up your side, the door handle rattled.

“steve…” you breathed, fingers threading into his hair.

he smiled against you and sucked your upper lip while one hand squeezed your thigh under your skirt.

just as his fingers started sliding higher, a loud knock came from the door.

“harrington! you in there, man?” tommy’s voice called out. “we’re gonna be late for that thing with carol. hurry the fuck up!”

steve groaned against your chest, clearly frustrated.

“shit,” he muttered.

he lifted his head and looked at you, eyes dark with want, lips slightly swollen. He gave you one last slow kiss, deep and lingering, before pulling back.

“i gotta go,” he whispered, regret heavy in his voice. “i told tommy i was going to the bathroom and that i’d meet him and carol after lunch. if i don’t show up he’ll come looking.”

you nodded, still breathless, cheeks flushed and lips tingling. steve helped you down from the sink, fixing your sweater and skirt with surprisingly gentle hands.

he cupped your face and kissed you once more, softer this time.

“i’ll make it up to you later, okay?” he said, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “promise.”

then he unlocked the door and slipped out, giving you one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway to meet tommy.

you stayed there for a moment, with your heart still pounding, legs a little shaky and trying to process what had just happened.

later that same day, carol pulled you aside during the last period and dragged you out to the bleachers behind the school. she looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

‘’so,’’ carol started, smirking. ‘’you and steve were getting nasty in the bathroom? bold move, girl.’’

you felt your face heat up instantly.

“it wasn’t… we didn’t—” you tried, but carol cut you off with a laugh.

“relax. i’m not judging. just surprised you let him drag you in there during lunch. tommy’s been sulking all week because steve basically stole you from under his nose.”

you sighed and sat down on the cold metal bleacher. carol sat beside you, crossing her legs.

“i don’t know what i’m doing, carol,” you admitted quietly. “every time steve kisses me, i feel like i’m doing it wrong. i just stood there and let him lead. i never know what to do with my hands or my tongue. i feel so awkward and inexperienced.”

carol looked at you for a second, then let out a short laugh, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth.

“oh honey, you really are a baby at this, aren’t you?” 

she said it not unkindly. 

“steve’s used to girls who know how to kiss back. but he also likes the whole innocent thing you’ve got going on. still… you can’t just be a passive doll forever.”

carol continued, more direct this time.

“next time he kisses you, don’t just open your mouth and wait for him to do everything. bite his bottom lip gently. grab the back of his neck or pull his hair. press your body against him. guys go fucking crazy when you do that.”

you listened carefully with your cheeks burning.

“and if he puts his hand between your legs,” carol continued, smirking, “don’t just let him touch you. push against his fingers. show him you’re enjoying it. whisper shit in his ear too. steve acts cool but he’s easy when you talk dirty.”

then you stayed quiet for a moment, processing everything she said. carol glanced at you, almost gentle for once.

“i just don’t want to look stupid,” you said softly. “i feel like he knows so much more than me.”

“you are inexperienced. own it. steve clearly likes you exactly like this or he wouldn’t keep chasing you.”

you touched your neck self-consciously and stood up, walking beside her back toward the school building.

even though carol could be sharp and mean, her advice felt strangely useful. maybe you really did need to stop overthinking and just try taking control for once.

then two days later, you were at steve’s house after school.

his parents were out of town again, so the big empty house felt even quieter than usual. 

you went under the excuse of ‘’studying together,’’ but now you were both in his room, sitting on his bed and supposedly watching movies. 

the movie was playing on the tv across the room, some action flick with loud explosions, but neither of you were paying attention for a while.

now steve was half on top of you, kissing you slowly and deeply. his body was warm and heavy in the best way, and one of his hands was resting on your waist. the other cupped the side of the side of your face. 

his kisses were confident, smooth. he tilted your head exactly how he wanted. his tongue brushed against yours in that rhythm that made your stomach flutter.

then you remembered carol’s words.

you wanted to try. you really did. you wanted to be better for him.

so when steve kissed you again, you gathered all your courage. 

you slid both hands into his hair and pulled him closer, kissing him a little harder than usual. you sucked gently on his bottom lip, then brushed your tongue against his more confidently.

for a few seconds it felt good.

steve made a low sound on his throat, almost surprised,and his hand tightened on your waist.

you tried to take more control. 

you deepened the kiss, moving your tongue against his, pressing your chest closer to his body. you even tugged lightly on his hair the way carol said guys liked.

but then the thoughts crashed in.

is this too much? am i being too aggressive? what if he thinks i’m bad at this? what if he’s just pretending to like it?

your confidence vanished in an instant.

your movements became hesitant and stiff. you didn’t know what to do with your tongue anymore. 

you pulled back slightly, breathing faster. cheeks burning with embarrassment and frustration.

steve noticed right away.

he lifted his head and looked down at you, his hazel eyes were soft but concerned. his thumb gently stroked your cheek.

“hey… you okay?” he asked quietly, voice low and careful.

you forced a small smile and nodded quickly.

“yeah… i’m fine,” you whispered.

“we can slow down if you want,” he said gently. “or stop. you know that, right?”

“no, it’s okay,” you replied, shaking your head. you didn’t want to explain how nervous and insecure you felt. you didn’t want him to know you were overthinking everything. “let’s just… watch the movie.”

steve hesitated for a second, searching your eyes, but eventually nodded.

“alright,” he said softly.

he shifted beside you, lying on his back and pulling you against his chest. 

his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close as he turned his attention back to the television. 

the movie continued playing — loud gunshots and dramatic music filling the room — but your mind was somewhere else completely.

you lay there with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, pretending to watch the screen. inside, you felt stupid and frustrated with yourself.

carol’s advice had sounded so easy when she said it, but when you actually tried, your brain had sabotaged everything. 

you kept replaying the kiss in your head, wondering what you did wrong, why you couldn’t just relax and enjoy it like other girls seemed to.

steve’s fingers traced slow patterns on your arm. 

every now and then he would press a soft kiss to the top of your head, completely unaware of the storm happening inside you.

after a few minutes, he spoke casually, trying to include you.

“this part’s supposed to be cool,” he murmured with relaxed voice. “you like action movies, right?”

you nodded against his chest.

“yeah… it’s good,” you whispered, even though you had no idea what was happening on screen.

steve squeezed your shoulder lightly and continued watching, his hand still gently stroking your arm. 

he seemed good just holding you, completely happy with the simple closeness.

but you couldn’t stop the quiet voice in your head. you stayed quiet, curled up against him, pretending everything was fine while your mind kept spinning.

days passed after that afternoon at steve’s house. 

you tried to act normal around him, but the insecurity still lingered in the back of your mind. you kept overthinking every kiss, every touch, wondering if you were doing enough or if you looked inexperienced. 

steve noticed you were a little quieter than usual, but he didn’t push. 

he just kept being sweet and patient with you.

one afternoon after school, steve was leaning against his car in the parking lot with carol. 

tommy wandered off somewhere, leaving the two of them alone. steve pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke toward the sky.

carol leaned beside him, arms crossed.

“so,” she said, smirking slightly. “how’s it going with henderson’s sister? you two are still sneaking around like horny teenagers?”

steve let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. he took another drag from his cigarette before answering.

“it’s going… okay,” he said. “i really like her. more than i thought i would. but she’s different.”

carol raised an eyebrow.

“different how?” steve hesitated, tapping ash from his cigarette.

“she gets in her head a lot. i can tell she’s nervous. like she thinks she’s doing everything wrong. i try to go slow but… i don’t know. sometimes i feel like i’m pushing too much.”

carol was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

“yeah, well… she talked to me the other day.” steve turned his head quickly, surprised.

“she did?”

“mhm,” carol nodded. “poor girl was spiraling. told me she feels awkward as hell when you kiss her. she thinks she doesn’t know how to kiss properly. she’s scared she’s bad at it and that you’ll get bored.”

steve stayed silent, staring at the ground as he processed her words. he took another long drag from his cigarette, clearly thinking.

carol continued, more gently than usual.

“she really likes you, steve. but she’s intimidated. you’re experienced, you’ve been with a lot of girls, and she’s… basically starting from zero.”

steve exhaled slowly, smoke curling in the air.

“fuck,” he muttered. “i didn’t realize it was that bad. i thought she was just shy.”

“she is shy,” carol said. “but she also really wants to be good for you. so maybe stop always taking control. let her lead sometimes. tell her it’s okay if she’s not perfect. tell her you like when she tries. girls like her need to hear that shit out loud.”

steve nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. he flicked ash from his cigarette and stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“yeah… you’re right,” he said finally. “i’ve been going too fast with her. i get carried away because i really like her, but… i don’t want her feeling like she’s not enough.”

carol smirked a little.

“good. don’t fuck it up, harrington”

that night your brother were out for dinner with friends and your mom was downstairs making a lot of noise with some friends.

you had your bedroom door closed, desk lamp on, trying to focus on your history notes even though your mind kept drifting.

you were halfway through rewriting a paragraph when you heard the familiar soft tap on your window.

your heart jumped. you turned around and saw steve’s face smiling at you through the glass, his hair a little messy from climbing. 

you quickly got up and opened the window.

“steve,” you whispered, half surprised.. “what are you doing here? mom is downstairs with some friends”

“i know,” he said quietly as he climbed inside, careful not to make too much noise. “i waited until i saw them all sitting down. figured it was safe enough.”

once he was inside he closed the window and immediately pulled you into a gentle hug, kissing the top of your head.

“missed you,” he murmured against your hair. “been thinking about you all day.”

you hugged him back, breathing in his familiar scent of cologne. 

after a moment you both sat on the edge of your bed. steve looked at the open textbooks scattered across your desk.

“still studying?” he asked, a hint of mockery in his tone. “you’re such a good little student, aren’t you?”

“history test tomorrow,” you sighed. “i’m trying to focus but my brain keeps wandering.”

steve nodded, then stayed quiet for a second, like he was thinking about something. he reached over and gently took your hand, playing with your fingers.

“can i ask you something?” he said, voice lower than usual.you looked at him, a little nervous. 

“sure.”

he kept his eyes on your hands for a moment before speaking.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice lower. “you’ve been weird the last couple days. carol told me you talked to her.”

you felt your cheeks heat up. you looked down at your lap, embarrassed that he had noticed.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you whispered. “i just… i feel like every time we do it, i freeze up because i’m scared i’m doing it wrong. i don’t know how to take the lead or… be good at it like you are.”

steve stayed quiet, listening carefully. his thumb kept gently stroking the back of your hand.

“i keep thinking you must get bored,” you admitted, voice small. “because you’ve been with girls who know what they’re doing and i’m just… following.”

steve was silent for a few seconds. then he gently squeezed your hand.

“you’re really overthinking this, huh?” he said, smirking. “it’s just kissing, baby. you don’t have to be perfect at it. you think i give a shit if you’re a little clumsy?”

you lifted your eyes to meet his. his expression was serious but incredibly warm.

“i’m not bored,” he said firmly. “not even a little. i like kissing you. i like everything we do together.’’

you were both half-lying on your bed, propped up against the pillows. steve shifted a little closer, his body relaxed beside yours.

“if you want,” he murmured, voice gentle, “you can kiss me. however you want. i’ll stay still. no moving. you’re in complete control tonight. just… experiment. do whatever feels good to you.”

your heart started beating faster. 

you nodded slowly, nerves and excitement mixing in your stomach.

steve lay back a little more against the pillows, looking up at you with calm, patient eyes. he rested his hands on the bed beside him, clearly showing he wasn’t going to touch you unless you wanted him to.

“i’m all yours,” he whispered.

you hesitated for a second, then leaned over him. 

at first you just kissed him softly, lips brushing against his. steve stayed perfectly still, letting you set the pace. 

you kissed him again, a little longer this time, trying to relax. 

when you tilted your head and pressed your lips more firmly against his, he let out a quiet hum but didn’t move.

feeling a bit braver, you parted your lips and slowly slid your tongue against his bottom lip. 

you sucked gently on it, just like carol had suggested. 

steve’s breathing changed slightly, but he kept his promise — he didn’t kiss you back, didn’t touch you. he let you explore.

you kissed him deeper, sliding your tongue into his mouth, tasting him. 

you experimented with different pressures, sometimes slow and soft, sometimes a little harder. 

“not bad,” he said, voice teasing. “but you’re still thinking too much. you kiss like you’re scared i’m gonna grade you or something.”

then you sucked on his tongue carefully, then kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and came back to his lips again.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered, voice a little rough. “keep going if you want. i’m not going anywhere.”

but after a few more moments of letting you lead, steve couldn’t hold back any longer.

with a low, quiet groan, he finally took control.

one of his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he tilted his head and kissed you deeply. his mouth devoured yours — slow at first, then hungrier, more intense. 

his tongue moved against yours with confidence, tasting you, claiming the kiss completely. 

he sucked on your upper lip, gently biting it before soothing it with his tongue, then did it again, focusing on that soft sensitive skin like it was his favorite thing in the world.

his nose brushed against your cheek and almost pressed into the corner of your eye as he kissed you, the closeness making everything feel even more intimate.

you could feel every small movement, every warm breath against your skin. 

he kissed you like he had been holding back for too long, like he couldn’t get enough.

you let out a soft, surprised sound against his mouth. 

steve used that moment to gently push you back until you were lying flat on the bed. 

he moved with you, hovering over you without putting his full weight on you, one elbow supporting him while his other hand stayed at the side of your face.he never stopped kissing you.

his lips moved against yours with slow, deep strokes, occasionally pulling back just enough to kiss your upper lip again, sucking on it softly before diving back in. 

his nose kept brushing the side of your face, warm and intimate, as he angled his head to kiss you even deeper.

you were breathless, gripping his shirt, when his hand slowly slid down your body. 

he moved patiently, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. 

his fingers traced over your stomach, then slipped under the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties.

“is this okay?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded quickly, whispering back, 

“yes… please.”

steve kissed you again as his fingers finally reached your bare pussy. 

he groaned softly into your mouth when he felt how wet you already were.

“fuck, baby… you’re soaked,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “all this just from kissing me?”

his fingers moved slowly, gently parting your folds and rubbing soft circles around your clit. 

he wasn’t rushing.

every touch was deliberate, patient, like he wanted to learn exactly what made you tremble.

you tried to stay quiet, biting your lip hard, but a small whimper escaped when he slid one finger inside you.

“steve…” you whimpered, voice shaky and a little too loud. “oh my god… steve—”

“shhh,” steve whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “gotta be quiet, sweetheart. your mom’s downstairs. can’t have them hearing how pretty you sound when i touch you.”

he added a second finger, curling them gently, stroking that sensitive spot inside you while his thumb kept rubbing slow, perfect circles on your clit. 

his mouth stayed on yours, swallowing every soft moan you couldn’t hold back.

“that’s it,” he breathed against your lips. “feel how wet you are for me? so warm and tight around my fingers… you’re doing so good, baby.”

your hips started moving on their own, grinding against his hand. 

steve kept the pace steady and gentle, never going too fast, just enough to make your legs shake.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing your upper lip again. “let go for me. cum on my fingers like a good girl. i want to feel you.”

when your body finally started to relax, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, licking them clean while looking into your eyes.

“you’re killing me,” he whispered, voice rough. “so fucking wet and responsive… and those little sounds you make—”

you blushed deeply, still breathing hard.

“i’m sorry… i couldn’t help it,” you whispered, embarrassed.

steve smiled softly and leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time, gentler.

“don’t apologize,” he murmured against your lips. “i love hearing you. i just don’t want your brother and his friends running up here thinking something’s wrong.”

he kissed you for a long moment, deep and slow, before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.

“i want you,” he whispered, voice husky. “i want to be inside you… if you’ll let me.”

you nodded, heart hammering. you breathed. 

“it’s okay.”

steve groaned softly and kissed you again, harder this time. 

he helped you out of your shorts and panties, then pushed his own jeans and boxers down just enough. 

his cock was hard and heavy as he rubbed the tip against your soaked entrance.

“tell me if it hurts,” he said seriously, looking into your eyes. “or if i should slow down or whatever”

“i trust you,” you whispered.

steve kissed your upper lip softly, then pushed in slowly.

you gasped at the stretch. 

he was big, and even though you were soaked, the pressure was intense. 

steve groaned deeply. his forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing the side of your eye as he sank deeper.

“fuck… you’re so tight, baby,” he breathed, voice strained. “so fucking tight around me… you feel incredible.”

he moved slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully inside you. you let out a shaky whimper, gripping his shoulders. 

steve stayed still, kissing your upper lip again and again, his nose almost pressed into the corner of your eye as he tried to stay patient

.“you okay?” he whispered. “talk to me, sweetheart.”

“it’s a lot…” you breathed, “but… it feels good. keep going.”

steve groaned and started moving, slow and deep thrusts. his mouth stayed on yours, kissing your upper lip, sucking on it gently while he fucked you.

“that’s my good girl,” he murmured against your mouth, voice rough and low. “taking my cock so well… your first time and you’re already squeezing me so fucking tight.”

he started moving slowly, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in deep. every thrust was careful but firm, his hips rolling against yours. 

his nose kept brushing the side of your eye as he kissed you, focusing on your upper lip, sucking and licking it between thrusts.

“steve…” you whimpered, a little too loud.

he quickly covered your mouth with his, kissing you deeply to muffle the sound as he picked up the pace.

“shhh, princess,” he breathed between kisses. “you have to be quiet for me. can’t let them hear how good i’m fucking you.”

he thrust deeper, grinding against you with every stroke. the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room. 

steve groaned quietly into your mouth, clearly struggling to stay quiet himself.

“you feel so fucking good,” he whispered hotly. “so warm and tight… i’ve wanted this pussy for so long, baby.”

you moaned against his hand as he covered your mouth again, his thrusts becoming a little faster, deeper. every time he bottomed out, his hips pressed firmly against your clit, sending sparks through your whole body.

“that’s it… take my cock,” he murmured, voice rough with lust. “such a good girl for me… letting me fuck you in your own bed while your mom’s downstairs.”

he kissed your upper lip again, sucking on it hard as he fucked you steadily, his nose brushing your eye with every movement. 

the closeness, the heat, the way he filled you so completely — it was almost too much.

your moans grew louder despite trying to stay quiet. steve kept kissing you, swallowing every sound, his hand occasionally covering your mouth when you got too loud.

“cum for me, baby,” he whispered, voice breaking. “i want to feel you cum around my cock.”

you came hard, back arching, thighs shaking as your pussy clenched tightly around him. you cried out into his mouth, the sound muffled by his deep kiss.

steve groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he followed right after you, burying himself as deep as possible and filling you with warm, thick pulses.

for a few seconds he stayed there, breathing heavily against your neck. then he slowly pulled out and sat up, running a hand through his messy hair.

he looked at you for a moment, eyes still dark, before he started pulling his jeans back up.

“shit… i gotta go,” he whispered, voice low. “your mom and her friends are still downstairs. if i stay any longer they’re gonna wonder what the hell is taking so long.’’

you watched him, a little dazed.

steve ran a hand through his hair and finally glanced at you.

“you good?” he asked, but it sounded more like a quick check than real concern. “i’ll see you tomorrow or something.”

he leaned down and gave you a quick, almost casual kiss on the forehead — nothing like the intense kisses from minutes ago.

“don’t overthink it, alright?” he said as he moved toward the window. “it was good.”

and just like that, he climbed out the window and disappeared into the night, leaving you alone on your bed, half-naked, sore, and suddenly feeling very small.

You seem content enough anyway, taking sweet, short breaths as you watch him pump two fingers in and out of you. Your fingers twitch around his shoulder.

"You alright?" he murmurs, keeping his voice dulcet despite the throb of heat in his middle.

You wet your lips. For a moment Remus falters, but then you nod. "Yeah. You?"

He breathes out. "I'm alright, lovely. I'm great." He brushes a kiss across the raised bud of your nipple. "Just talk to me, please, yeah?"

You look like you'd very much like for him to do that again. So Remus does, keeping his eyes on yours until a breathy "okay" floats past your lips.

Sex is always, to some extent, about learning, Remus thinks. He's grateful that you've both been patient enough with this part of your relationship for him to learn about you. He knows to keep his tone gentle while he's touching you, just as he knows the sound you'll make if he takes your nipple into his mouth. He knows that you like for him to soothe his hand up and down your side sometimes, and sometimes you don't want to be touched there at all. Remus knows that you don't like to be turned away from where you can see his face, and would rather not be turned at all, you prefer to move yourself.

You've learned about him, too. You know that Remus likes to hear from you.

"Okay," you say again, doubling down on your agreement when he presses his fingers into you again. "That's good. Really good."

Keeping you talking to him has two purposes. A practical use—it helps Remus to get a gauge on whether you've slipped down into memories or are present with him—and a closely-held, more selfish one.

Remus kisses you indolently while he works you open, and you keen when he spreads his fingers inside of you.

"Come on." You squirm, not half as demanding as the demand should be with your eyes big and lips parted on sighing breaths. "Please."

"Oh, hey," he teases, "there's no need for any of that."

You smile, and it's so lovely Remus can't help himself, dipping down to catch it in his mouth. "This is what you want?" he asks.

You nod urgently. "Please."

"Alright, alright." Remus makes light, but it does dig between his ribs a bit to hear you beg him, and he hops to. He's wrapped up and aligned over you in impressive time, steadying the both of you by a hand on your hip while he watches your expression.

At your nod, he presses into you.

It's a squeeze even after the time Remus has spent opening you up, and so torturously pleasurable he has to breathe through his nose to keep a coarse sound from escaping.

Your fingers, curled around his nape, tigthen. "It's okay," you manage. "You can—go ahead."

"How are you?" Remus' voice sounds rougher than he means for it to.

"I'm okay. I'm good."

He lets himself relax, sinking a bit deeper as he sweeps his thumb over your hip. "Yeah," he breaths. "Okay. You're okay, sweetheart."

"I'm okay," you repeat.

It takes a minute of adjustment for you, and a few more reassurances for Remus, before he feels safe beginning to move. Your leg comes up so that your ankle is digging into his backside, but your eyes don't move from his.

Remus doesn't think he's ever fucked so carefully before, but in fairness he's also never fucked you. He hasn't been in love before you, either. As with everything concerning you so far, Remus is forced to improvise.

You don't harangue him about the pace. Ever forgiving, just as you have been with his untidy nightstand, you let Remus take his time. Much of it is familiar, though not all. Remus finds a new way to make you shiver, and consumes sounds he hasn't heard you make before. He discovers new depths to the ways he can make you feel, and can make you feel safe.

If anyone had asked Eddie Munson to describe you, his answer would've been embarrassingly simple: quiet, pretty, funny when you actually spoke, and an absolute menace on rhythm guitar.

You'd been Gareth's best friend since elementary school, which automatically made you part of the group years before Eddie ever showed up. Somewhere between band practice in Gareth's garage and late-night drives to nowhere with cheap gas station snacks, you'd just... become one of them.

You usually sat with your combat boots kicked up on an amp, cigarette hanging lazily between your fingers while Jeff and Gareth argued over chords and Eddie rambled about whatever had caught his attention that week.

Sometimes horror movies. Sometimes a new Metallica album. Sometimes some insane campaign he'd spent six straight hours writing instead of doing homework.

You'd just listen, smile every now and then. Throw in the occasional dry comment that made everyone laugh harder than anything else said that evening. Then go back to quietly restringing your guitar.

As far as Eddie knew, that was the extent of it. He knew you liked metal. He knew you preferred your coffee black. He knew you kept a denim jacket covered in patches draped over the back of Gareth's couch because you were over there so often.

He knew you could play Iron Maiden riffs cleaner than half the guys he'd met. He knew he had the most pathetic schoolboy crush on you imaginable. He also knew Gareth would never let him live it down if he acted on it.

So he didn't.

He flirted just enough that everyone thought that's simply how Eddie talked to girls. He'd throw you a grin. Call you sweetheart. Offer you the first beer. Let your shoulder bump against his when everyone piled onto the couch.

Nothing serious, nothing obvious. Nothing that would risk screwing up something that already worked. Because having you around was better than making things awkward and losing you altogether.

You, meanwhile, had somehow convinced everyone you had absolutely zero hobbies beyond music, which was exactly how you preferred it.

Nobody knew about the stack of fantasy novels hidden underneath your bed. Nobody knew about the little notebook full of campaign ideas. Nobody knew about the afternoons you'd spent reading through Gareth's Player's Handbook after he'd accidentally left it at your house when you were fifteen. And absolutely nobody knew that after borrowing it once, you'd gone out and bought your own.

Then another, and then another. By now you owned enough books that your bookshelf looked suspiciously like a tiny game shop. Not because you actually played; you'd never had the courage.

You just liked learning about it. The stories. The worlds. The maps. The mythology. You found it fascinating. But somewhere along the line, quietly reading had turned into quietly memorizing.

Which was why, every time Hellfire met in the theatre room after school, you intentionally sat just far enough away that you couldn't hear very well.

Because if you could hear...You'd start correcting people, and nobody likes that person. So you kept your mouth shut. It worked for months.

Until one rainy Thursday when band practice got canceled because Gareth's parents wanted the garage cleaned out, leaving the entire group with nowhere to be. Hellfire happened to be meeting.

"You should just stay," Dustin insisted.

"You literally sit here anyway."

"I'm not playing."

"You don't have to."

Jeff chimed in from somewhere behind him. "Yeah, just hang out."

You looked toward Gareth; he shrugged, "Might as well."

So you settled into one of the empty chairs against the wall with a comic book you'd barely read a page of while Eddie started spinning another one of his ridiculously elaborate campaigns.

You weren't trying to pay attention; you really weren't. But you couldn't help overhearing bits and pieces. Names you recognized. Places you recognized. Monsters you recognized. And honestly? He was really good.

Animated. Creative. Completely invested. Watching him practically stand on top of the fake throne to voice an evil wizard was charming enough that you forgot to hide your smile.

Then it happened. "So naturally," Eddie declared dramatically, "the basilisk's gaze instantly petrifies all three of you permanently—"

You physically looked up, and your eyebrows pulled together, lips parting. No. No, no, no.

You looked back down at your comic. You could ignore it. You should ignore it. Dustin was already reacting. Mike was planning around it. Lucas looked mildly horrified.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Stay quiet. Stay quiet. Stay—

"...Actually..." The word slipped out before you could stop it.

Every single head turned toward you. You immediately wished the floor would open beneath your chair.

Eddie blinked. "Hm?"

You stared at your comic. "...Nothing."

He tilted his head. "No, c'mon."

You sighed through your nose. "...A basilisk's gaze doesn't permanently petrify you."

Silence. "It can," Eddie answered carefully.

"It can…but not instantly."

You paused, rethinking your life’s choices, but decided to follow through. "It requires you to fail the saving throw."

Dustin slowly looked between both of you like he was watching a tennis match.

Eddie folded his arms. "...Okay."

You already hated this.

"And how exactly do you know that?"

You mumbled the answer.

"What was that?"

"...Monster Manual."

"What?"

You looked up reluctantly. "The Monster Manual."

He stared, and you stared back.

"...Page seventy-three."

Absolute silence. Jeff's jaw slowly fell open. Gareth looked at you, a mix of suspicion and pride forming. "...Since when?"

You rubbed the back of your neck. "I don't know."

"You own a Monster Manual?"

"...Yeah."

Eddie's voice got quieter. "...Anything else?"

You made the mistake of answering honestly. "I've got most of them."

He blinked. "Most... of them."

"The books."

"The books."

"Yeah."

He looked genuinely speechless. Then, very carefully, "...Name five schools of magic."

You frowned. "There are eight."

His eyes got wider.

Without thinking, you started listing them. "Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, Necromancy, Transmutation."

By the time you finished, Eddie was staring at you with an expression somewhere between existential crisis and complete infatuation.

He looked over at Gareth, looked back at you, then looked at Gareth again.

"You've been hiding this from me?"

You blinked. "I didn't think anybody cared."

"Cared?"

He sounded personally offended. "Cared?"

You shrugged helplessly. "I don't actually play."

"So?"

"I just read them."

"So?"

"I like lore."

"So?"

"I didn't think it mattered."

Eddie dragged both hands down his face, then looked at you again with something that almost looked pained. "I have spent three years desperately searching for people who voluntarily read sourcebooks."

You looked confused. "...Really?"

"And Gareth has apparently been gatekeeping the coolest girl in Hawkins."

Gareth immediately defended himself. "I DIDN'T KNOW EITHER."

Eddie looked back at you. Then, with complete sincerity, "Please join Hellfire."

You laughed.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"No, seriously." He leaned across the table. "I am literally begging you."

You couldn't help smiling. He looked completely smitten, like something had clicked into place. Like the cute girl he'd been trying not to flirt with too much had suddenly started speaking his favorite language.

And judging by the ridiculous grin spreading across his face, you had absolutely no idea what you'd just done to him.

It started small: a little less space between you on Gareth's couch. Conversations that accidentally stretched long after everyone else had wandered into another room. The realization that if Eddie had a campaign idea, your opinion was one of the first he wanted.

At some point, it became completely normal for Gareth to call your house and ask if he could come over to work on music, only to show up twenty minutes later with Eddie in tow and an armful of graph paper, dice, and notebooks.

Band practice would last an hour; campaign brainstorming would last four.

You'd all end up around your bedroom floor or the dining room table with pencils scattered everywhere, Eddie pacing barefoot because he'd inevitably kicked his shoes off halfway through explaining something.

"No, okay, listen," he'd insist, waving his hands around wildly. "Imagine the town thinks they're cursed because people keep disappearing into the woods."

You'd be scribbling notes already. "They're not disappearing."

He'd stop. "No?"

"They're being taken."

"By what?"

You'd chew on your pencil for a second. "They think it's a monster."

"But?"

"It's not."

He'd grin. "But?"

"It's a druid."

His eyebrows would shoot up. "Oh?"

"They're taking people because something older is waking up underneath the forest and they're trying to keep them away from it."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Gareth, without missing a beat, would throw a crumpled piece of notebook paper at him. "You are so unbelievable."

"What?"

"You don't even hear yourself."

"Hear what?"

"'That's why you're my favorite.'" He mocked. 

Eddie would look genuinely confused. "I meant campaign-wise."

"Mhm."

"I did."

"Mhm."

Jeff would snort from wherever he happened to be sitting. You'd duck your head to hide a smile while pretending to be very invested in your notes.

Eventually Eddie would wander over anyway, leaning over your shoulder to look at whatever you'd been writing. His hair would brush yours.

His hands would be slightly closer to yours against the table. He'd smell faintly like cigarettes and weed and that cologne you complimented one time, and he refused to wear a different one since. 

"Holy shit."

You'd glance up. "What?"

"This is so much better than what I had."

He'd snatch your notebook. "Eddie."

"Nope."

"Eddie."

"This is mine now."

"You can't just steal my ideas."

"I absolutely can."

He'd flip another page. "You drew maps?"

You'd immediately reach for the notebook. "No."

He'd lift it over his head. "You drew maps."

"Eddie."

"You color-coded the districts."

"Eddie."

"You made economic systems."

"Oh my god, give it back."

He'd be laughing too hard to defend himself as you reached for it, nearly climbing over him in the process. Somewhere behind you, Gareth would let out the most exhausted sigh known to mankind.

"Jesus Christ."

Neither of you would even notice. You'd finally grab the notebook back, smoothing out the bent page with exaggerated offense.

"You suck."

"I know."

"You bent it."

"I'll buy you another."

"I don't want another."

"I'll buy you five."

"They won't have my notes."

He'd soften immediately. "...Good point."

Then, almost sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

You'd just smile. "It's okay."

And somehow that stupid little interaction would live in his head for days afterward.

The problem was that spending more time around Eddie wasn't making your crush go away; it was making it catastrophically worse.

It was one thing to think he was attractive from across Gareth's garage while he played guitar. It was another thing entirely to watch him get excited over stories.

To watch him grin when you challenged one of his ideas and immediately start building on yours instead. To watch him get genuinely delighted when you beat him to a fantasy reference. He really listened to you. Like, actually. 

Half your conversations started with him saying, "Wait, what do you think?"

Nobody had ever asked you that so often before. It made your chest hurt a little. Then there were the little things.

He always sat next to you. Always offered you the first slice of pizza. Always saved you the root beer because he'd noticed it was your favorite after seeing you pick it out exactly twice.

One afternoon, he disappeared for ten minutes while everyone argued over music. When he came back, he tossed something into your lap. You looked down: a little pewter dragon pin.  Nothing fancy, probably from the flea market. Its wing was chipped, and one eye had faded paint.

"I saw it and thought of you."

Your heart nearly stopped. "It's cool."

"I figured you'd put it on your jacket."

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. "I will."

He looked suspiciously pleased with himself. Across the room, Gareth watched the exchange happen in complete silence before rubbing both hands over his face.

Jeff noticed. "What?"

Gareth looked at him. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

He pointed between the two of you. "This."

Jeff looked over. "...They're talking."

"They're in love."

"They're discussing dragons."

"They're discussing dragons in love."

Jeff started laughing, then Gareth stood up dramatically. "Eddie."

"Hm?"

"You know you can just ask her out."

The room went completely still. Eddie looked genuinely horrified. "What?"

"You heard me."

"No?"

"Ask her out."

He immediately looked at you, then away again so quickly it almost gave you whiplash. "I am not asking her out."

"And why not?"

"Because she's your best friend."

"So?"

"What if she says no?"

You looked down at your hands, and Gareth threw both arms into the air. "And what if she says yes?"

Eddie looked personally offended by the suggestion. "Don't mess with me."

"I'm literally not."

Jeff had gone completely silent, clearly realizing something much larger was unfolding.

Gareth pointed at you now. "And you."

Your head snapped up.

"When are you gonna tell him?"

You nearly choked. "Tell him what?"

He stared. "Oh, don't even."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You look at him like he personally invented the damn game himself."

Your face instantly went hot. "I absolutely do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You literally smile every time he walks into a room."

"I smile at everyone."

"You do not smile at Jeff."

Jeff looked mildly offended. "Hey!"

You buried your face in your hands. "This is awful."

Gareth groaned loud enough to shake the walls. "I swear to God, one of you has got to grow a spine."

Eddie looked over at you. You peeked at him through your fingers. The second your eyes met, both of you immediately looked somewhere else.

Gareth stood there for another few seconds before muttering to himself and grabbing his jacket. "I'm going outside."

Jeff followed. "Me too."

The door shut behind them. You were still looking at the floor while Eddie was rubbing the back of his neck.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke. "...For what it's worth..."

You looked up.

"...I don't think he's completely wrong."

Your stomach did a complete somersault. He looked terrified; you probably looked exactly the same. Then, somehow, despite both of you being objectively hopeless at this sort of thing...

You both started laughing. The nervous, embarrassed kind that comes out when there's nothing else left to do.

"So..."

"So."

Then both of you started talking at exactly the same time.

"I'm sor—"

"I didn't mea—"

You stopped, he stopped, and you both laughed again. Eddie shook his head, looking down at the floor with the kind of smile that only appeared when he was genuinely embarrassed.

"I've fought people with knives, and somehow this is scarier."

That made you smile. "I don't think Gareth was supposed to say all that."

"He definitely wasn't."

"He looked like he was gonna explode."

"He has looked like that for weeks."

Your eyebrows pulled together. "Weeks?"

Eddie looked up, immediately realizing he'd said too much. "...Maybe."

You studied him for a second. "You knew?"

He let out a long sigh. "I knew he thought something."

"And?"

"And I kept telling him he was making it up."

"You did?"

"Mhm."

"And was he?"

He looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting, "...No."

Your heart gave one heavy, impossible thud. He looked back down almost immediately.

"I just figured..." he started, picking at one of the rings on his fingers. "I don't know."

"You can tell me."

He laughed softly to himself. "I figured I was reading into things because I wanted to."

He shrugged. "You laugh at my jokes."

"They're funny."

"You always sit next to me."

"So do you."

"You remember everything I tell you."

"So do you."

"You still have that stupid dragon pin."

You instinctively looked down at your jacket hanging over the chair across the room. It was still there, pinned right over your heart.

You looked back at him. "...Of course I do."

His ears turned pink as he smiled to himself. "I kept thinking maybe you were just nice."

"And I kept thinking you flirted with everybody."

"I do flirt with everybody."

"I know."

"But not like that."

You looked at him. He was still staring at the floor. Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, he added, "Not like you."

He took another breath. "I didn't want to make things weird."

"I didn't either."

"I didn't want Gareth to think I was making band practice complicated."

"I didn't either."

"I didn't want to screw up the friend group."

"I didn't either."

That earned another little laugh from both of you. It was almost ridiculous, months of overthinking condensed into a handful of matching sentences.

He shifted a little closer on the couch. "...Can I ask you something?"

You nodded, but he hesitated anyway. "If Gareth comes back in here and starts laughing at me, I'm moving to Canada."

You couldn't help smiling. "I don't think you’d make it that far."

"I've got enough gas money to reach Ohio."

"Fair."

Then he just blurted it out. "...Would you maybe wanna go on a date with me?"

No dramatic speech, no rehearsed line, no confidence. Just Eddie, visibly terrified, trying to act like his entire future wasn't hanging on your answer.

Then your mouth betrayed you before your brain could. "...I thought you'd never ask."

His eyes got impossibly wide. "...Really?"

You laughed. "Eddie."

"No, seriously."

"I'm serious."

"You mean yes?"

"I mean yes."

"You actually mean yes?"

"I do."

He blinked twice. Then covered his face with both hands. "Oh, my God."

You could hear him laughing behind them. "Oh, my God."

He dragged his hands down slowly, looking somewhere between relieved and completely stunned. "I had a whole backup speech."

"You did?"

"It was terrible."

"I would've liked to hear it."

"No chance."

"Please?"

"It somehow involved dragons."

You laughed so hard your head dropped forward. "I absolutely believe that."

He looked at you for another second before another thought visibly crossed his mind. "Oh."

"What?"

"So..." He scratched at the back of his neck again. "This is kind of embarrassing."

"What is?"

"I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"So you don't have a date planned."

"...Not exactly."

You bit back a smile.

"I had approximately seventy-three fantasies and zero logistics."

"I appreciate the honesty."

He thought for a second, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait."

"What?"

"The open-air market."

"The one over by Main?"

"Yeah,” he smiled. "My uncle goes every few weeks."

"I've never actually been."

"You haven't?"

You shook your head. 

"They've got old records and books and weird antiques and flea market junk and people selling handmade jewelry and all kinds of random stuff."

He was getting animated now, talking with his hands the way he always did when he got excited. "And this old guy that always has boxes of fantasy novels for like fifty cents."

Your eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"

"And another booth with vintage band shirts."

"Oh?"

"And there's usually a food truck with cider donuts."

"...Eddie."

"What?"

"I already said yes."

"I know."

"I'm just making my case."

"You don't have to."

He grinned. "So..." His voice softened. "Tomorrow morning?"

You smiled. "I'd like that."

"You would?"

"I would."

"What time?"

"Whenever you pick me up."

His grin somehow grew even bigger. "Nine?"

"Nine."

For another second, neither of you moved, just smiled at each other like two complete idiots. Then the front door flew open. Gareth walked in carrying two sodas, took one look at the way you were looking at each other, and immediately stopped.

His eyes narrowed. "...No."

Neither of you said anything. He looked at Eddie, he looked at you, and then he looked back at Eddie once more.  "...No."

Jeff stepped around him. "What?"

Gareth pointed dramatically. "They're smiling."

Jeff looked. "...Yeah?"

"The weird smiling."

"They smile."

"No."

He pointed harder. "The smile."

Jeff watched for another second, then slowly grinned. "...Oh."

Gareth closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Did one of you finally grow a spine?"

Eddie looked over with a smile he couldn't suppress if he tried. "...Maybe."

Gareth stood perfectly still, then set both sodas on the coffee table. Then walked over and hugged you. Then hugged Eddie.

Then immediately pushed him away again. "If you break her heart, I'll kill you."

Eddie nodded solemnly. "Fair."

Gareth looked at you. "If you break his heart, I'll kill you too."

You nodded just as seriously. "Also fair."

He looked between the two of you one last time before throwing both hands into the air. "Jesus Christ."

Jeff laughed. "What?"

"I HAVE BEEN WATCHING THIS FOR SIX MONTHS."

He turned toward the ceiling. "THANK YOU."

And somewhere beside him, Eddie's hand quietly found yours for the very first time. He didn't make a joke. Didn't look at you. Didn't say anything at all.

He just laced his fingers with yours like he'd been wanting to for a very, very long time. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.

The next morning, you were standing on your front porch at exactly 8:58 when you heard the familiar rattle of Eddie's van coming down the street. Not that you'd been waiting by the window or anything…definitely not.

The van pulled into the driveway, and before it had even fully stopped, you could see Eddie leaning across the passenger seat.

The door swung open. "Good morning."

You laughed. "It's nine in the morning."

"And?"

"You look entirely too excited."

He grinned. "I got a date."

Your stomach immediately betrayed you. The stupid thing was that you'd known Eddie for years now. You'd spent countless afternoons with him. Late-night band practices. Movie marathons. Campaign planning sessions.

Yet somehow, the word "date" made everything feel different.

You climbed into the passenger seat and immediately noticed the stack of cassette tapes scattered between the seats. "You cleaned."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I moved things."

"Eddie."

"The important garbage is still here."

Neither of you had to struggle for conversation. You talked about music, about the campaign you'd been helping him write. About the ridiculous argument Jeff and Dustin had gotten into over whether dragons or vampires were cooler. By the time the market came into view, you'd spent half the drive laughing. 

The open-air market occupied an old fairground lot just outside town. Rows of tents stretched across the grass. People wandered between booths carrying coffee cups and paper bags. Music drifted through the air from somewhere. The entire place smelled like baked goods, fresh grass, and sunlight.

"This is cute."

Eddie looked weirdly pleased by your approval. "Right?"

You followed him through the aisles, taking your time. Every booth seemed to have something different. Old records. Handmade jewelry. Vintage books. Antiques. Hand-painted signs. One tent was entirely dedicated to old movie posters. Another sold homemade candles.

A woman was knitting behind a table full of scarves despite the weather being far too warm for scarves.

"This place is amazing."

"I know."

"You come here often?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes with Wayne."

You stopped at a table full of records while Eddie flipped through another crate beside you. Every couple of seconds, one of you would hold something up.

"What about this?"

"No."

"This?"

"Absolutely not."

"This?"

"Now we're talking."

It felt easy, like everything else did with him. Eventually you reached a booth covered in old band shirts hanging from racks.

Your eyes immediately lit up. "Oh, my God."

You were already digging through them. Most were faded, some had holes, and a few were clearly older than both of you combined.

You found a Black Sabbath shirt and held it up. "Eddie."

His eyes widened. "No way."

"It's my size."

"That's illegal."

You immediately bought it. He found a faded Dio shirt twenty minutes later and looked just as excited.

"You are absolutely getting that."

"I don't know."

"Eddie."

"It's kinda expensive."

It was eight dollars. You stared. "Eddie."

"Okay, when you say it like that."

You rolled your eyes. He bought the shirt, and you continued wandering. At some point, your shoulder started brushing his when you walked. 

Then you found the books, a whole tent full of them. Secondhand fantasy novels stacked in crooked towers. Leather-bound collections. Old paperbacks. Forgotten adventures.

You immediately disappeared inside. Eddie smiled before you were even fully gone. Of course this would be your favorite booth. He watched you crouch beside a stack, completely absorbed within seconds.

Your fingers carefully turned pages. Your eyes scanned titles. You smiled when you found something interesting. And God, maybe it was pathetic. But he could've stood there all day watching you be happy.

Instead, he wandered a few booths down, and that's when he saw the flowers. A little elderly woman sat beneath a striped canopy surrounded by buckets overflowing with blooms. Sunflowers. Wildflowers. Daisies. Lavender. Tiny pink roses. The entire booth looked like something out of a storybook.

Eddie wasn't really a flower guy, at least he hadn't been. But then he spotted a small bouquet sitting in a glass jar. Nothing fancy, just a handful of wildflowers tied together with twine. It looked like something someone had picked during a walk.

For some reason, it immediately reminded him of you. The woman caught him staring.

"Got a girl?"

Eddie immediately looked away. "No."

She smiled knowingly. Then glanced toward the book tent where you stood.

"Honey."

He groaned.

The woman laughed. "That one's cute."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"You should buy her flowers."

"What if she thinks it's weird?"

The woman gave him a look. "Son."

"Yeah?"

"She's here with you at the crack ass of dawn, isn’t she?"

Fair point.

Five minutes later, he was walking back with the bouquet hidden awkwardly behind his back. You still hadn't noticed him. You were standing in front of a shelf with three books pressed against your chest, completely focused.

"Find anything good?"

You looked up immediately. "Look."

You handed him one. Then another. Then another. By the end of your explanation, you were smiling so hard that he almost forgot what he'd been doing. 

"Oh."

"What?"

"I got you something."

Your eyebrows lifted. "You did?"

He suddenly felt sixteen years old. "Yeah."

Then he awkwardly revealed the bouquet, and immediately regretted every decision he'd ever made.

"I saw them and—"

You froze. "Oh."

His heart dropped. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe flowers were too much. Maybe—

"Oh, my God." You looked genuinely shocked. "Eddie."

Your expression softened into something so sweet it nearly killed him. "They're beautiful."

The relief that hit him was immediate. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You carefully took them from him.

"They reminded me of you." The words slipped out before he could stop them.

You looked up, and his face immediately turned red. "That sounded cooler in my head."

A laugh escaped you. "No."

You glanced down at the flowers again, then back at him. "It's actually really sweet.".

The crowd continued moving around you. People walked past. Music drifted through the air. Yet somehow it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to that tiny space between you. And somewhere in the distance, a vendor yelled that fresh cider donuts were ready.

Eddie immediately pointed. "Okay."

You laughed. "What?"

"Before I say something embarrassingly romantic and ruin my reputation—"

"You don't have a reputation."

"I absolutely do."

"You really don't."

He grinned. "Cider donuts?"

You looked down at the flowers in your hands. "Lead the way, Munson."

His smile was so bright it almost rivaled the morning sun. And for maybe the first time in his life, Eddie couldn't think of a single place he'd rather be

The funny thing was that absolutely nothing changed after you and Eddie started dating. And simultaneously, everything changed.

Band practice still happened in Gareth's garage. Hellfire still met every week. You still spent entirely too much time arguing over music and fantasy novels and campaign mechanics.

Eddie still stole your fries. You still stole his jackets. On the surface, very little was different.

Except now Eddie could kiss you whenever he wanted, which turned out to be a problem. Because Eddie Munson was possibly the most physically affectionate human being to ever walk the earth. You discovered this approximately forty-eight hours into the relationship.

It started innocently enough. A hand on your lower back. His arm around your shoulders. His knee pressed against yours whenever you sat together. Normal boyfriend things. Then it escalated…rapidly.

Somehow Eddie always needed to be touching you. Not in an overbearing way, just constantly. If you were sitting beside him, his hand would find yours without him even realizing it. If you were standing next to him, he'd hook a finger through your belt loop. If you were walking somewhere together, his arm would automatically settle over your shoulders.

Movie nights became nearly impossible because he'd slowly slide lower and lower until his head was in your lap. You'd look down halfway through a film to find him completely comfortable, stealing handfuls of popcorn and using your thigh as a pillow.

"Eddie."

"Hm?"

"You have your own seat."

"This is my seat."

"No, it isn't."

He'd just smile, close his eyes, and settle in deeper. Hopeless, absolutely hopeless. Then there were the kisses.

God. The kisses. Eddie kissed you constantly. Not because he was trying to be smooth. Mostly because he genuinely seemed incapable of stopping himself.

The top of your head. Your cheek. Your temple. Your shoulder. The back of your hand. Sometimes he'd walk into a room, kiss your forehead, and then continue whatever conversation he'd been having as though nothing had happened.

The first few weeks, it caught you off guard every single time. Months later, it still made your heart do stupid little flips. One afternoon you were helping him organize campaign notes at his trailer. You'd been focused on a map for nearly twenty minutes when suddenly—

Mwah.

You looked up. "What was that for?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You just kissed me."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He looked genuinely confused. "You looked cute."

Then immediately went back to writing, as if that was a perfectly normal explanation. Which, for Eddie, it apparently was. Wayne found the whole thing hilarious.

"You know," Wayne had said one evening while watching Eddie practically drape himself across you on the couch, "for a fella who spent years actin' tough, you sure turned into a sap."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Wayne pointed; Eddie was literally entirely in your bubble. 

"And now?"

"I'm comfortable."

"You followed her into the kitchen earlier because she went to get some water."

"I was thirsty."

"You don't even like water."

Eddie opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at you.

"...That's not the point."

The truth was that Eddie had spent so long convincing himself not to cross the line that once he finally could, all that affection had nowhere to go except directly toward you.

And honestly? You loved it. Because underneath all the teasing and dramatics, he was impossibly sweet. He remembered everything, every little thing.

Your favorite candy. Your favorite records. The books you'd mentioned wanting but couldn't find. The exact coffee order you got at the diner. One time you casually mentioned liking a specific fantasy author. Two weeks later, he showed up with a battered secondhand copy he'd found three towns over.

Another time you'd complained that your hands were cold. The next day he brought you a pair of fingerless gloves he'd found at the market. They were hideous and completely ridiculous.

You wore them all winter.

Ironically, your first kiss had been nothing like what you’d expect.

It had happened a couple of weeks after the market, after band practice. Everyone else had left. Jeff had work. Gareth had dinner. You'd stayed behind to help pack up equipment while Eddie finished putting away cables.

The garage had been quiet, just music playing softly from an old radio. You'd been sitting on an amp while he rambled about a campaign idea. Something about dragons, obviously.

At some point, he'd stopped talking, and you'd looked up and realized he was already looking at you.

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"You stopped talking."

"I know."

You smiled. "That's unusual."

His laugh had been nervous, which should've tipped you off immediately. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth, only for a second. And suddenly your stomach was somewhere near your shoes. Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.

Then Eddie had done something completely out of character. He asked quietly, almost as if he wasn't sure he was allowed, "...Can I kiss you?"

You remembered the way your heart had nearly exploded. The way he'd looked terrified. The way he'd immediately started backtracking when you didn't answer fast enough.

"I mean—you don't have to—I was just—"

You kissed him before he could finish. Mostly because if you'd let him keep talking, he probably would've apologized and fled the state.

For a second, he froze, as if his brain needed a moment to process what was happening. Then one of his hands found your jaw, and suddenly he was kissing you back. Soft and careful, like he couldn’t quite believe it. 

Months later, Eddie still brought it up sometimes, usually when he wanted to annoy you.

"You know."

You immediately knew that tone. "What?"

"You kissed me first."

You rolled your eyes. "Here we go."

"I'm just saying."

"You literally asked."

"Technically."

"You were halfway through a panic attack."

"Technically."

"You would've talked yourself out of it."

"Possibly."

"Definitely."

He laughed, then leaned over and kissed your cheek. "Good thing you saved me, sweetheart."

By the time you and Eddie had been dating for about seven months, Hellfire had developed a new problem. Or, more specifically, Eddie had developed a problem. And that problem was you.

"Okay," Dustin said, pointing accusingly across the table. "This is bullshit."

The entire campaign immediately ground to a halt. Eddie looked up from behind his DM screen.

"What is?"

"This,” Dustin gestured wildly.

"Define this."

"You giving her special treatment."

You nearly choked on your soda.

Across the table, Mike immediately nodded. "Thank you."

Lucas pointed. "Finally somebody said it."

Eddie looked genuinely offended. "I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I absolutely don't."

Jeff snorted. "You absolutely do."

Even Gareth joined in. "Dude."

Eddie looked around the room. "You guys are insane."

Then slowly looked toward you. "...Back me up."

You immediately betrayed him.

"Oh, no." His jaw dropped. "You too? Babe."

The entire table collectively groaned; even the nickname irritated them now.

"Babe?" Mike repeated. "You call her babe in-game too."

"It slipped out once."

"It happened three times last session."

"That's not important."

"It kind of is when you're talking to a barbarian."

Eddie pointed dramatically. "None of you have evidence."

The room exploded. "No evidence?"

"Dude!"

"You literally gave her a dragon."

"It was a baby dragon."

"It was still a dragon."

"It was injured!"

"You let her keep it."

"She nursed it back to health."

"You gave her a dragon."

"...Okay, maybe the dragon thing wasn't helping my case."

"THANK YOU." Dustin practically stood up.

The truth was that they weren't wrong. Eddie tried to be fair; he genuinely did. But every time he sat behind that DM screen, all logic immediately left his body.

You'd mention some random piece of backstory you'd thought of at two in the morning, and suddenly there was an entire side quest dedicated to it.

You'd casually mention that your ranger grew up near the ocean. Next thing everyone knew, there was a mysterious coastal kingdom appearing in the campaign.

One time you'd joked that your character liked collecting shiny rocks. Two sessions later, Eddie had created an entire magical gemstone subplot. The man had no self-control, and everyone knew it. 

Especially Gareth, who had spent months witnessing it firsthand. The latest offense had happened approximately twenty minutes earlier. The party had entered a ruined cathedral.

A dangerous encounter, lots of enemies, high stakes. Or at least it should've been. Unfortunately, Eddie had described a hooded traveler sitting alone by the fire.

A traveler who immediately recognized your character. A traveler who apparently knew your character's family. A traveler who had information specifically relevant to your backstory. A traveler who somehow only wanted to talk to you.

The entire table had immediately erupted. "NO."

"Dude."

"Again?"

"This is ridiculous."

Eddie had tried defending himself. "It makes sense narratively."

"No, it doesn't."

"It absolutely does."

"It absolutely doesn't."

Now, twenty minutes later, they were still arguing about it.

"I just think," Mike said, crossing his arms, "that maybe the rest of us deserve emotional character development too."

"You have emotional character development."

"When?"

"You got stabbed."

"THAT'S NOT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT."

Jeff nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Meanwhile, you were actively trying not to laugh, which wasn't helping.

Eddie noticed immediately. "You think this is funny?"

"A little."

The rest of the session dissolved into more good-natured ribbing until the guys finally started packing up their dice and minis, trading complaints about favoritism all the way out the door. 

Gareth shot you both a knowing look as he left last, muttering something about "not wanting to know what happens next."

You started gathering scattered papers and pushing chairs back into place, the faint scent of dry-erase markers and lingering pizza still thick in the air.

Eddie watched you for a moment from the end of the table, that familiar wicked little smile tugging at his lips. Then he rounded the table, coming up behind you as you reached for a stray miniature.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.

"You look like this," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "and they still act shocked I can't keep my hands off you." His voice dropped lower. 

"Can't really blame me though. Look at you, sitting there all session like you weren't thinking about what I’d do to you once they left."

You shivered as his mouth found the side of your neck. He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, then scraped his teeth gently over it, sucking lightly until your breath hitched.

One of his hands splayed across your stomach, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace slow circles on your skin.

"Eddie," you warned, half-laughing, half-breathless. "We’re supposed to be cleaning up."

"Mm, we are," he said against your throat, kissing lower and more open-mouthed. "I’m just… multitasking."

His other hand slid down to grip your hip, pulling you back against the growing hardness in his jeans. 

"Been hard half the session thinking about bending you over this table. You know that?"

You turned in his arms, intending to tell him to behave, but his mouth crashed into yours before you could. The kiss was messy and eager, all tongue and teeth, the kind that always left your lips swollen. 

He backed you toward the edge of the massive wooden table, hands roaming under your shirt until he cupped your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples through your bra.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned into your mouth. "Need you. Right here. Been dying to feel how wet you get for me after I’ve been staring at you all night."

You gasped as he lifted you onto the table, shoving aside papers and a few forgotten dice that clattered to the floor. He stepped between your spread thighs, grinding against you as he tugged your shirt up and off. 

His mouth returned to your neck, sucking marks you’d have to hide tomorrow, while his fingers worked your jeans open.

You reached down to palm him through his pants, earning a low, wrecked sound from deep in his chest. "Eddie…someone could come back."

"Let ‘em," he muttered, nipping at your collarbone as he pushed your jeans and panties down just enough. "Let ‘em see how fucking perfect you look when I’m buried inside you." 

He dropped to his knees briefly, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss between your legs that had your head falling back with a moan. One quick, filthy lick, then he was back up, freeing himself from his jeans and lining up.

He pushed in slow at first, savoring the stretch, eyes locked on your face. "That’s it," he breathed, voice strained. "Take me so good, like you were made for this." 

Once he was fully seated, he gave you barely a second before he started moving; deep, rolling thrusts that made the table creak beneath you.

Your hands fisted in his hair, legs wrapping tight around his waist as he fucked you harder, the drama room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your shared, ragged breathing. He kept kissing your neck, your jaw, whispering filthy praise between thrusts.

"Love how you squeeze me… fuck, you’re dripping down my cock already. My perfect girl."

The angle had him hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, chasing the building heat. Eddie’s rhythm faltered as he got close, one hand slipping between you to rub tight circles over your clit.

"Come on, baby," he panted against your mouth. "Want to feel you come on me. I’ve been so good to you all night."

The combination of his words, his fingers, and the relentless drag of him inside you sent you over the edge with a cry.

He followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, you stayed tangled together, foreheads pressed close, catching your breath in the quiet room. Eddie kissed you softly, peppering kisses all over your face, jaw, and neck. 

You laughed breathlessly, tugging lightly at his curls. "We’re never going to finish cleaning up at this rate."

"Worth it," he said, already leaning in for another kiss.

well, hey! hope you all enjoyed ;) i have an inquiry for you all. going forward with requests, would you prefer...

taglist:

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@abbysleftbicepp @britttzy267 @ssculker @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @kylorensbaby

The nickname sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily stopping you, before adrenaline kickstarts your feet again, carrying you through the corridors of Hogwarts, turning right, then two left turns and up the stairs you go, only to stop once you realize you’ve made it to the top of the astronomy tower.

Great escape plan, Potter.

As you suspect it doesn’t take Sirius long before he has caught up with you, panting slightly with his hands planted on his hips, probably looking sassier than he means to, then again, you did just storm out of potions class after he hinted at his feelings towards you, so you guess it’s only fair. It is troubling you, the idea of being vulnerable in front of Sirius, and you don’t quite know why.

You suspect it is the timing of it all, six years spent having feelings that couldn’t be easily placed for James’ best friend, and now it feels so sudden. You wonder why the universe has decided to throw you into a whirl wind, but nothing really comes to mind as he stands a few feet away from you.

“Would you care to elaborate on why I’ve just had to chase you all the way up here love?” Sirius puts on a bit of a show to seem more out of breath than he probably is, knowing just how athletic he is from watching him at Quidditch games. You unknowingly take a few steps back, mind now mostly occupied with flashes of Sirius in Quidditch gear, looking absolutely heavenly-

“I was just, erh, I needed some fresh air”

“Darling, we’re in a castle, almost anywhere has fresh air” he complains as he plops down near the railing, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in one swift movement.

After a beat of silence, observing how his long black hair is reacting to the breeze, flowing ever so gracefully, you sigh. Your legs feel heavy as they carry you towards the boy, sitting down next to him. Sirius doesn’t turn towards you as you think he will, instead he keeps his gaze pointed towards the bright winter sky. In a way you appreciate it, because it’s going to make the next part of the conversation much easier.

“I think I got scared, that’s why I ran-“ your breath catches in your throat, Sirius’ face contorts into one of confusion, then warms into concern. He looks to you, discarding his cigarette, allowing you the pause to continue. You chuckle somberly, shielding your face for a second before continuing what you know is going to be the point of no return.

“No, I know I’m scared, because it’s only been a couple of hours since I realized why I can’t concentrate when you’re near me, why I can’t seem to breathe when you lay your head on my shoulder in class, and now!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air, as if to prove your frustration.

“You’re my brothers best mate, I always thought that this could never ever happen, and now that I know there’s actually a slight Godrick forsaken chance, that you might love me, as much as I love-“ Your sentences never reaches its end before Sirius takes your face in his hands, and crashes his lips into yours. Dopamine is instant, overtaking your senses, forcing your tense shoulders to drop, your fingers searching to tangle in his hair, which is easy considering it’s almost long enough to reach his broad shoulders. The warmth of his body is addicting, as well as the smell of his aftershave this close to you, it’s a lethal combination. His lips are softer than you’ve imagined, merlin how have you gone this long without kissing Sirius?

A couple of minutes pass by, the two of you completely lost in each other’s arms, before you pull back. Sirius whines as his head follows your movement almost reconnecting your lips, but you stop him with a gentle hand on his chest. There are still questions unanswered in your mind, mainly why the hell Sirius is choosing right now to kiss you.

Not that you’re complaining at all.

“I don’t really understand what’s happening” the last bit of frustration has disappeared, your gestures way more coated by a newfound lightheartedness, searching his face for an answer. The boy’s brows furrow, his lips still agape. “What’s confusing you love?” He asks sincerely dragging his bottom lip between his teeth.

You might just have to bite it for him..

There’s hesitation to your movements, your hands now buried within your sleeves. You sigh before answering “Is this some sort of prank?”

Now, you’ve known Sirius for some years at point, but never have you seen him look this defeated, his face immediately falling at your accusation, which breaks your heart.

“Why on earth would you think this is a prank y/n? I’m pouring my heart out here”

“I mean, kissing me isn’t exactly pouring your heart out Siri..” it comes out as a mere whisper. The look shared is intense, none of you breaking eye contact.

“I knew it was you” He matches your whispering tone, which intensifies the feeling of ice cold water running down your neck. Between the realization that he knows about the Polyjuice incident and knowing how much it means to you, that he can tell you apart from James like that, you feel ambivalent, equally mortified and loved.

“You mean..” The question doesn’t have to come out, you both know. “I knew from the moment I saw you, well, you in James’ body” He grimaces, then continues “well, to be honest your brother is quite a catch I’ll admit, not quite my type though, he’s too.. well-functioning” You gasp loudly, lightly smacking Sirius’ arm, and just like that the tension is mostly broken, the two of you laughing, as the daylight shines down.

“Are you insinuating I’m not well-functioning, Black?” you giggle, your walls breaking down beneath his smiling gaze. He doesn’t hesitate a second to answer back with a wink, “Absolutely, you’re precisely my type”

“ohh Godrick” you groan covering your entirety as well as you can. “What gave me away?” Sirius gently pulls your arms from around yourself, lifting your chin to make you look into his eyes again. “Honestly… Your eyes. The way you looked at me, I don’t know. It’s just so specifically you”

This time it’s you leaning in to him, kissing his lips much softer this time. It doesn’t take many seconds unfortunately for you to break the kiss again as another realization hits you.

Sirius groans again at the loss of your lips, but right now you couldn’t care too much.

“You knew it was me, and you played along? Why torture me like that?” you moan, but Sirius just barks out a laugh. “Darling, I only knew for sure when you locked yourself in the bathroom and almost confessed your feelings for me, but seeing Remus and Peter that confused and partly horrified was bloody brilliant!”

You had to agree, seeing past your own embarrassment, their reactions were priceless, and something about Sirius turning the tables on you like that you find quite attractive, but to be honest he might be the only person who would be able to see through it, which fills you with adoration. He really could tell you and your brother apart. The sentiment that carries for you is vast, having felt second to James most of your life.

“Did the others find out?”

“Remus had it figured out by morning, but I’m not sure Wormy is in the loop yet” He grins.

“I figured” You smile back at him.

“Soo, how do we break the news to James?” You question, dreading having that conversation with your brother.

“I have a sneaking feeling that Prongs is going to be out of commission for a bit, before you ran off Lily kissed him on the cheek, poor bloke nearly fainted”

“Yeah, he tends to do that”

The polyjuice potion wore off around midnight, which unfortunently meant you had to tolerate James for half an hour before you could finally go sleep in your own bed, only to be woken up by your alarm.

A loud groan escapes you as the sun shines through the gap in your curtains, coloring the room in a slight tint of red.

Your eyes slowly adjusting to the room, it takes a few seconds to notice the girls already have left your dorm, most likely making their way to the great hall.

The tranquillity of sleep parts from your mind, as the memories from last night make themselves clear. You have absolutely no idea how much of a mess James have made, but maybe theres a slight chance that none of them remember-

Wait, scratch that

At the foot of your bed with a little note adorned with a hand drawn heart, lays a neatly folded pad which makes you start mentally cursing out your brother.

Judging from the writting it's definitely from Lily.

You can't help but smile, while letting out a sigh. Lily is goodness itself, and if you were being honest, the thought of having her as your sister in law was terrific. But that was all up to your brother, and judging from last night, it definitely wouldn't happen soon.

You drag yourself to go brush your hair in front of the mirror, hanging off the wall next to Marlene's bed opposite yours. You finish it off with your usual lavender oil to slick down any stray hairs.

Then your mind goes to Sirius.

You had done a wonderfull job so far ignoring your feelings, but seeing him in such an intimate state last night, kickstarted something in you.

Your group is doing their usual morning routine. The brown jumper Remus had lended to you in third year was keeping you warm and toasty, as you plopped down on your usual spot between James and Peter. The chatter was boringly normal, moving from topics of classes, to turning Gilderoys hair into a birdnest, Sirius' loud laugh ecchoing off the tall walls of the great hall.

You added your usual ridiculous amount of strawberry jam to your piece of toast, keeping your head down. What you failed to notice was Remus' soft glance at you, or Sirius' hands fidgeting under the table and how his voice is even more rushed and high pitched than usual.

After about ten minutes of silently observing your friends conversation, Peter turns to you.

"You ready for potions class?" He smiles at you, which you gladly return, nodding your head, lips already parting to answer the blond boy.

"Oh, born ready, I can't wait to see what potion is next on the curriculum" You giggle, remembering two days ago when you and Peter almost blew up the cauldron by adding too much powdered moonstone.

Slughorn being anything but impressed.

Potions class should be a good distraction, needing to think about something else than-

"Oi, Sirius is today Quidditch pratice?" James radiates the same engergy as a small child being let loose in Honeydukes. Your heart skips a beat when you look over to see Sirius' attention on you, him yet having had the chance to answer your brothers question.

It would be almost impossible to notice the way his pupils expand, taking in the sight of you, and how they go back to nomal as he turns his attention back to James.

Almost impossible.

The bell rings sending vibrations through your ears, making you close your eyes. The courtyard had been beautifully covered in snow this morning, only to start melting by first period.

You and Lily have been chatting, sitting on the ledge of the fountain. You try your best at casual conversation, yet your mind wonders to Sirius, as if it haven't done enough damage yet to your lovestruck heart.

"Y/n? Hello? Did you hear me?" Lily's voice snaps you back, as you open your eyes. "Yes, or actually no" a sigh escapes your lips. "Im sorry Lils what were you saying?" You admit, lifting your bag up to rest on your shoulder, as the two of you start walking inside the castle.

"Oh, I just asked you if James is feeling better today, he took quite a tumble last night after fainting" the smugness in her voice goes unnoticed as you look at her fair features, completely puzzled.

"What do you mean, James didn't... oh.. oh" your movements halt, planting your feet to the ground, the numbness in your limps following shortly as you realize what she means, as she is still looking at you, eyebrow raised and a grin adorning her face.

You swear she can be just as devious as the rest of your friendgroup.

After a few skips of silence you grap her hand pulling her towards an empty part of the hall, away from prying ears.

"Ofcourse I knew it was James" Lily stated confidently, taking your silence as a hint to keep talking.

"figured it out just around the time he hit the floor, but today being the first day he wouldn't look me in the eyes confirmed it for me " she grins.

You cover your face groaning.

"Yeah, he did tell me about that. Lils, I am so sorry, it was supposed to be a prank, and it got way out of hand"

"Its okay y/n, I actually found it rather adorable. I mean, not the whole bra incident, but how easy it was to talk to him" she pointed a finger at you changing her demenor, looking stearn "still, it was a very bad idea"

A grimace lands on your features, while your head lightly bows down.

It's almost like getting scolded by your mother.

"But it made me think, maybe James actually isn't that bad" the look in her eyes tells you everything you need to know. James might actually have his chance sooner than later, you think.

However, instead of actually verbalizing your contentment, you go for making a fake gagnoice, making lily giggle.

"Don't tell him until we graduate.. he's gonna be bloody unbearable" a smirk forming on your lips, silently rooting for your twin happiness.

Speaking of the devil.

"Don't tell who what until we graduate?" James stops right behind you, swinging his arm over your shoulder, sending a signature wink Lily's way.

"I think they're talking about you Prongs" Peter teases, as you all walk on towards Slughorns class. James responds to Peter by flicking his hand over his heart dramaticly.

"What are you talking about Peter, I am delightful, I could never be annoying, right y/n/n?"

The best you can do in the moment is roll your eyes.

Ofcourse Lily notices the way your breath gets caught at the sight of the black haired boy, who's catching up his pace next to you.

The boy who's looking at you with such carefulness and a soft smile, a stark contrast to the usual smirk plastered on his face in your presence.

As he smiles at you, Lily swears to Godrick you almost looks like you're gonna fold, making her giggle, you are so similiar to James it's honestly adorable.

Class has begun and you're sitting next to Peter, carefully stiring the fickle potion. When Slughorn starts the class out with anouncing you'll be brewing Amortentia, your heart almost stops.

Here goes not thinking about Sirius.

James and Remus are sitting next to you two, Sirius and Lily are seated a few tables away, in the part of the classroom where Slughorn likes to keep his favorite students.

Which luckly means theres no attention on you right now.

The clink of the spoon being dropped spooks Peter as you let go and stand up, sending a quick look Slughorns way to make sure you avoid causing a scene.

"Jamie, can I talk to you for a second?" The qusetion itself is just a formally as you're already dragging him off towards the shelves, before the poor boy has a chance to react.

"Lily knows, but she's not mad, and I think you have a very real chance of finally wooing her you oaf, so don't screw it up" your sentence is quick and hushed, and it sends James through five very different stages of emotions, from horrified to beaming.

"You really think so?" He asks dreamily, as his eyesight is locked in on the red headed girl. You smack him with your notebook, to bring back his attention. "Attention please" you sigh looking around, before continuing. "Has the boys figured anything out?"

"Oh no you're good, everything is perfect.. much like Lily"

Great, now James is broken, theres no use trying to get anymore information out of him, so you settle on smacking him once more for good measure before sitting down next to Peter again.

About an hour passes when most of you are finished with the potion, and Slughorn is asking random students to check their potion is working.

Your eyes snap up when he mentions Sirius and Lily.

"Alright, mr. Black, miss. Evans, because you two have brewed the most successful Amortensia, I would like for you to test it out and tell me what you both smell"

Lily starts out first, explaining the way she smells parchment, flowers, cinnamon and ... broom polish?

You know your sentiments are shared, when you see James' grip on the table, wondering if his hummingbird heart can take this much excitement.

"Very good miss Evans, now mr. Black your turn"

And just like that suddently all of your attention is going to Sirius, who looks so divine with his hair tired up in a bun, that one piece sticking out framing his face perfectly, and- wait why does he look nervous?

"Smoke, motor oil ofcourse" he earns a few chuckles from the class, before his eyes flicker to meet yours and time stands still.

"... lavender and strawberry jam"

Now it's your turn to grip the table. Remus looks your way trying to conceal a smirk, yet his satisfied demenor reflects off of him loud and clear.

The world continues around you, but you're frozen in place under Sirius attention.

You feel hot, all the blood rushing to your head, your palms are sweaty and you almost don't notice the ringing sound in your ears, as you mutter out a, hopefully, coherent response of yes i'm grand.

Sirius smiles, apparently somewhat pleased with your answer, as he continues chatting with Remus and Peter, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

His soft, plump lips that you have been dreaming of touching since fourth year. You never really thought smoking was sexy until you saw how well Sirius pulled it off, which prompted many, many daydreams about you plucking that cigarette from his lips and just softly crane your neck to make your lips touch-

"Prongs, you're starting to freak me out mate"

Oh, right- you're currently stuck in your twinbrothers body, sitting on his bed in the boys dormitory.

Remus lowers his book from his place in the windowsill, giving you a strange glare as the adrenaline returns throughout your (james') body, making you once again stumble over your words.

"Sirius is right James, you look rather sickly and- are you blushing?" Peter chimes in sitting on his bed.

"Oh, no no, i'm okay, sorry carry on" you respond as you force yourself to lower your gaze, mentally kicking yourself. The boys share a glaze or two, but ultimately let it lie, starting back up their conversation.

This whole stupid idea started as a prank on your brother, but by some stupid twist of fate, or maybe even some strange twin telepathy, James had the exact same prank planned, which was showing up in the commonroom as you, using polyjuice potion.

The prank quickly extended to your friends, both of you wanting to see if any of them would notice your swap at dinner. Unfortunately nobody did, which in turn made you frown.

Are we really that similiar?

Can Sirius not even tell you two apart?

Needles to say, by the time you were ready to reveal your true identities, you had fallen too deep into your own prank, the boys almost dragging you up to the dorm, you just barely had time to exchange a panicked glance with James, who was in a similar situation with Lily, Marlene and Mary.

Now you just have to act normal until the boys fall asleep, then go find James.

Thats simple enough, right?

You are so lost in thought you honestly don't notice your eyes connecting with Sirius' for the third time in the span of fifteen minutes. But by the time you do notice, its too late and he's talking to you again, oh merlin you haven't heard what he said, and now the attention of all the boys are on you again.

What the hell is wrong with you? Just say something that James would say

Remus lets out a nervous chuckle, making you panic even more somehow.

Okay Potter, you can do this. Just make up some excuse to go wait this out in the bathroom.

Deep breath and hit them with a totally normal thing Jamie would say.

"I'm gonna go, bathroom, you know.. penis"

Shit

Sirius and Peter look equally perplexed and poor Rem looks absolutely horrified, as their wide eyes follow your ungraceful attempt to flee towards the bathroom, trying your best at manoeuvring your longer limps, and finally locking yourself away.

As soon as you hear the lock click, you slide down the door putting your head in your hands. You sincerly hope James is doing way better at pretending to be you, even though you doubt it, seeing as Lily is gonna be there.

You sigh deeply, muttering quiet curses at yourself, debating whether or not you should make a run for it, or stay locked in here until the potion subsides.

"James, talk to us please"

Sirius' voice startles you, making you shoot up from your position on the floor, almost knocking your head against the celling, letting out a yelp.

Is James really this tall?

"Prongs, if you need someone to talk to you know we're right here mate" Remus agknowledge sympathetically, causing you to feel a little guilty, making a mental note to buy him extra chocolate at Honeydukes, next time you make the trip. That is, if you don't die from embarrassment in this tile covered cage of shame.

"Even if it's, erh, penis related" Peter announced, earning a light smack from Sirius.

It occurred to you that you need to face the boys again, in order to get ahold of James, so you sigh and relent, shutting your eyes tight.

Might as well tell them how you really feel.

"Nothing is really going according to plan" you chuckle speaking up again, more somberly this time.

"I feel this suffocating pressure just to push everything down and lock it away, because there is no way Si- she will reciprocate my feelings, you know, erhm Lily. I thought I could ignore it, but for some reason I can't seem to." You trailed off, opening your eyes when you were meet with a few seconds of silence.

Immediately you're wondering if you went too real with it, do boys even talk to each other like that? Did they notice your slip up?

But on the other hand, it feels natural to talk with them like this. Since first year Remus, Sirius and Peter has always been your brothers friends first, yours second. He's more or less the glue keeping them together, and you're just his sister, someone they tolerate because of James.

Which ofcourse makes your infatuation with Sirius quite difficult.

Who would want to date their best mates sister? Not even mentioning the fact that James will have a fit, if he ever finds out just how much in love with Sirius you are.

For merlins sake.

Against your better judgement, you open the wooden door, awaiting their reactions, half expecting them to mock you.

Immediately you're tackled by Sirius who's pulling you into a hug, which is so comforting, and oh god he's still shirtless.

"Thank you for sharing that" Remus extends his hand to your shoulder offering you a gloomy smile.

A few seconds later Sirius releases you from his grip, you grimace slightly finding that you are missing his warmth already.

"Let's just go to sleep, I'll feel better in the morning" you whisper, closing the door behind you. The boys nodd, silently agreeing.

_____________________

You've been painfully awake for about an hour now, wanting to be completely sure the boys are fast asleep before you sneak out.

The floor is cold beneath your feet, tiptoeing to freedom, the darkness almost hindering you in finding the handle. A few seconds later you desend down the stairs victorius, relief rushing over you, as you spot James (or rather youself) sitting on the couch.

"Where have you been?" James hisses as soon as you plop down next to him.

"Relax, I couldn't get away until now" you explain.

"This was a very bad idea" James groans, looking rather adorable in his current position with his arms crossed.

"Tell me about it" you agree running your hand over your face, after handing him his glasses back as he mutters a quiet thank you.

You both sit in silence for a bit, until you ask him how his evening went. The commonroom is dimly lit by the orange and yellow nuances from the fireplace, the warmth offering you both much needed comfort.

"Well, not ideal" James hesitated.

"Or rather it was going really well until Lily went to change into her pyjamas" He covered his face, blushing at the memory.

"James Fleamont Potter" Shock overtaking your features, but before you could scold him, he interrups you.

"Don't worry, I didn't see anything"

"Good"

"because I fainted"

"YOU WHAT"

"Lower your voice" he snaps back, slumping his shoulders, looking around the empty commonroom wearily.

"It's fine, I played it off as a period thing"

Jason had been all too polite about you not being ready for the main event. He understood the feeling of being an older virgin, considering the whole dying at fifteen. He had gone out of his way to show you that sex was enjoyable and comfortable. It made you brave and fall just a little more in love with him each time.

He doesn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips. His lips press to your hairline as he murmurs, “I am being serious, sweetheart. Be honest.”

“I am being honest,” you reply, leaning into the contact, “I wanna sleep with you.”

His lips twitch against your skin, a hint of a smirk that tells you exactly what he’s going to say, “you already sleep with me.”

“Jason,” you scold. You pull away from him slightly, and he has the same look from before when he said you were being cute, “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He chides softly, “If you can’t talk about it, maybe you shouldn't be doing it.”

You roll your eyes, “You literally ate me out last week.”

“Oh? Is that what you want?” His hands shift to tickle at your waist, then drag you into his lap. One hand drops to pop the button on your jeans.

You squirm in your new spot, “Jay, stop it.”

His hand slips away, and you shake your head. He shakes his head with that knowing smile. You know he’s not intentionally teasing. He just wants your words, your consent to the whole situation. 

“Jason,” you sit primly in his lap, and he focuses on you, hands smoothing up your waist, rucking up your shirt just to push it back down, “I want to have sex with you… please.”

“You’re ready?" he asks one more time as he pulls you forward on his thighs, hips to hips. You feel him already hard under you. 

You nod, “I am ready. I want it to be with you.”

“Whatever you want, you get, baby,” he murmurs and finally kisses you softly, a gentle peck that turns into another and another until you're melting into his lap and eagerly parting your lips when his tongue prods for exploration. Your hand slides up into his hair, curling and tugging at the nape of his neck as your hips grind down on him. 

The hand that had been pressing your shirt up and down finally slips under, fingers pressing into skin before pushing up to tease at your bra. You pull back slightly to pant his name against his lips. He stares back at you, not letting you go far and evidently as enamored by you as you are by him.

“Want it off,” He says, and you blink momentarily confused. You don’t know if he was asking you or telling you. Either way, he doesn’t wait for a response, pushing your shirt high enough that all you can do is lift your arms to help. The moment your shirt is off, he pauses to stare at you, pupils dilated but still loving.

Your hands smooth against his shoulder as you shift in his lap, “What is it?”

He shakes his head, hands respectfully at your waist, thumb stroking the skin. His eyes focus on your face as he replies, “You’re just beautiful.”

You huff with a shy smile, head tipping back as you roll your eyes, “You’re so sappy.”

“You deserve sappy,” he murmurs as he takes advantage of your tipped head. He presses soft kisses to your throat, trailing wetly down to your collarbone and chest. Your head tips up to look at him as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast. He meets your eye, “You deserve sweet and loving.”

“Jay,” you murmur, bringing your hand up to push back his hair from his face, “you deserve that too.”

He smiles, giddy and in love, as he ducks to press his face into your cleavage. You shake your head at his antics with a soft laugh before you shriek and cling to him as he stands up. He takes to kissing your skin again as your legs wrap around his waist, walking to the bedroom without even looking up. You laugh the entire time because it’s Jason, and you think he’s so silly and sweet sometimes. Your giggling eases after he drops you on the bed, but only because he’s pulling off his shirt and you're easily distracted.

He gently presses you down on the bed as he climbs over you, hitching your knees against his hips to slot himself between your thighs, “And you are sure about this?”

“Jason,” you playfully roll your eyes before you catch his seriousness, “Jason, I’m very sure. You're the only person I trust with this.”

His eyes flicker between yours before dipping to your lips, then back to your eyes, an unnecessary question, but one you nod to all the same. He kisses you again with a new fervor, one you return. His hand dips behind your back, and you arch as he undoes your bra, peeling it from your body and tossing it aside. He leaves your lips to once again trail his kisses downward. 

Your hands cling to his shoulder and hair as he dips down. A hand gently palms at your tit and you arch into it with a sigh, his thumb rubbing over a pebbling nipple. He kisses every inch of skin he can find, sucking soft marks almost worshipfully. 

“Gorgeous girl,” he murmurs, voice rough as he kisses around a nipple before delicately wrapping his lips around, sucking softly.

“Jay,” you gasp, eyes fluttering. Your hips shift up to chase more pressure. He settles on top of you, pinning your hips down.

He eases off your nipple with a soft pop that makes you shudder, his fingers replacing his mouth to pinch at the bud as he moves to your other breast with a “Be patient, sweetheart.”

You take a breath, trying to relax back down on the bed. You knew he’d want to take his time, but it doesn’t make you want him any less. You ignore the heat in your belly to focus on him, his weight atop you, his rough hands touching you so sweetly, and his lips reverent and explorative. Your chest heaves against his mouth, and your hand slides over his shoulder, thumb massaging into the muscle.

He groans against your breast and peeks up at you, “What’re you doing?”

“Waiting,” you give him a sweet smile. He laughs fondly into your skin before he’s pulling back slightly, calloused hand giving your breast a final squeeze.

“Taking too long, am I?” he teases as he finishes undoing your pants, pulling the zipper down and hooking his fingers into the waistband. 

You lift your hips with a shrug, “It’s okay.”

He snorts as he tosses the pants elsewhere, “It’s okay. Baby, tell me what you want. Said you get whatever you want.”

He presses a kiss to your hip, nose pressed to your skin above your panty line and breathing in your skin. Your first instinct is that Jason is so weird. Your second instinct, and the one that seems more right, is oh my god, I want Jason to fuck me right now.

“I want you,” you manage to keep yourself tame.

His eyes meet yours as he kisses your skin again, “Yeah?”

The heated pit in your belly grows as you stare down at him. You nod, biting on your lip to keep from bursting. 

“Let me get you ready,” he murmurs. He slips lower, nose dragging down the crease of your thigh. You stop him with a hand in his hair. He gives you a questioning look but obliges, moving back up your body with smattering kisses. You squirm before his lips find your mouth, kissing you gently like before.

“Change your mind?” He hums against your lips. 

You laugh at the notion, warm breath against his mouth, “No, I want you. I want you so much, I don't think you need to get me ready.”

“Ha, funny girl,” he mocks gently, prying your damp panties down your thighs, “I have to get you ready, first timer”

“Oh my god,” you laugh more, lifting your hips to help, "That's so mean, Jay.”

He tosses your underwear without thought, hand pushing your thighs open, “Mean or dutiful? Gotta make sure I don't hurt my girl.”

Your mouth opens to argue back, but the words are lost to noise, a sharp gasp as his mouth meets your cunt with a groan. Your hand slides over the back of his head as his tongue laps through your folds before sucking on your clit.

“Ya're wet,” he mumbles against you, the vibration making your thigh twitches, “not enough”

Your eyes flutter as he gets to work, licking into you eagerly as his nose bumps your clit. Your head tips back, then forward, chest heaving with moans as you try to decide if you want to bend to the pleasure or watch him. Your hips jump, and he easily pins you down. 

He pulls back for a moment to breathe, mouth and nose covered in your slick, “doing so good,” then he dives back in. 

His tongue flicks across your clit as he pushes two thick fingers into you. The stretch is barely there, slick enough that he slides in. Your fingers curl tight in his hair.

“Jay,” you whine as he focuses his mouth on your clit to slowly stretch you out. You were, by far, no stranger to Jason's mouth and fingers. If you were honest with yourself, sometimes you thought he might enjoy it more than having sex. You were eager to find out if you were right. That is, if he ever let up. 

Your thigh presses against his jaw as the heat builds steadily with each lick of tongue, every prod of his fingers inside you. Jason knew your body better than you did, and you had a feeling you would cum before the main event. Your hips press up against the hand pinning you.

“Jason,” you gasp, foot digging into his back. Your eyes sink to stare at him, and he meets yours with a determined gleam. You shake your head, “I- I want-”

You lose your train of thought as he moves faster, a moan catching your words. Your hand starts to draw tight in his hair, thighs pressing against his head. He remains focused on his goal of getting you ready, which kind of annoys you in the moment. Sure, you want to cum, but you want him inside.

You don’t have much choice in the matter, though, and who are you to fight your own body? Your head falls back, succumbing to the build. Your back arches, thighs shaking slightly as the heat in your belly starts to boil over.

“Jay, Jason! Oh!” Your body seizes with sweet release. 

Jason groans against you, making you whimper, his fingers moving slowly inside you to draw you out before stilling. He prys your hand from his hair, and you let him, hand cramping slightly from how tight you had held on. Ever so slowly, you melt down onto the mattress as his fingers slip from you. 

He climbs over you, squeezing your hip and bending down to kiss the corner of your lips with a sticky mouth. You don't have it in you to complain. Not when he’s there above you. You want him. You need him. Your shaky hands dip to undo his jeans, tight against his erection. His head dips to your shoulder as he groans at your touch. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop you, at least not until you have his jeans tugged under his ass and your hand attempts to dip into his boxers. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, “Are you sure?”

You smack his shoulder with an echoed clap. He jolts up to look at you in surprise. You give him an irritated look, which he finds entirely unnecessary, considering he’d just made you cum.

“What was that?” he huffs.

You glare up at him, “If you don't fuck me, I’m gonna fuck you.”

A laugh, more of a cackle really, leaves Jason at your horny threat before he’s leaning down to kiss you while he finishes shucking off his jeans and boxers. His cock resting on your belly, hard and leaking. Your breath stutters, and you part from the kiss to look down at him. He kisses your forehead, the corner of your eye, before pulling back.

“I’m not gonna fuck you, baby,” he murmurs as his hand curls around his dick, giving it a tug, “I’m going to make love to you.”

You look back up at his face, settled now that his pants were off, and he was so close, “There’s a difference?”

“Trust me,” he nods as he shifts on his knees, spreading your thighs wider, “There is a difference, and I can show you after this, okay?”

“Show me?” you question softly, hands curling into the blanket under you, his lean back too far for you to touch him. 

He nods and finds one of your hands prying it from the sheet to press it on to the bed by your head, lacing your fingers as he hovers over you, “First time is for love making.”

He kisses your jaw, “soft,” your neck, “slow.”

Your eyes close as he presses kiss after kiss down to your collarbone. He sucks a soft hickey there before he nudges his cock against your entrance. Your eyes fly open with a soft gasp, but he doesn't press in, simply rubs the head of him up and down your slit. Your hips twitch up, cunt fluttering with want as he spreads your slick and his precum.

He pulls back from your neck to look at you as he notches against your entrance, “You tell me if it hurts or you need a second, okay?”

You nod, and he shakes his head, “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll tell you,” you reply and press your thighs as wide as they can go, “Just please, Jay.”

He smiles down at you, like you're the sun, like he'd wait a thousand years just to hear your voice. He dips, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Please,” he murmurs, “you don't need to say that.”

Then he presses into you, impossibly slow, watching your face the entire time. You stare back at him, hitched breaths leaving your lips as he stretches you, warm and hard, you feel every bit of him. There's never a moment of pain, despite Jason's worry, only an uncomfortable sensation of your cunt accommodating. 

He sinks down on his forearm, hand still laced with yours, as he presses in deep. Your brow twitches at an odd nudge inside you, and he stills, hips not quite against yours.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, voice strained. You hadn't thought of how your own tight heat might feel around him. You give an experiment flex around him just to watch his eyes flutter. His hips twitch, and he nudges the spot that made your brow twitch with discomfort. 

“Feels… strange,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker back open.

“Bad?” He asks, pulling back slightly. Your free hand curls over his shoulder as you shake your head.

“Not necessary,” you murmur, then you admit, “but not comfortable.”

His eyes flicker down to where he presses in again, and you fight to keep your moan, and then he stops at the odd sensation. 

He nods like he's found something, “feel it too, let me move you a little, okay?”

You nod, and his hand, not holding yours, reaches for a pillow. He nudges your hip up slightly, and you follow, holding your breath as he stays in you. With your hips higher, he looks back to you and presses in and in. Your breath catches when his hips press snug against you, pressing against your sensitive clit.

“Better?” He asks like your mind hadn't just blanked from having all of him against you and inside you. You nod with a soft noise, and he pulls back slowly and presses back in. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, new, unfamiliar, but growing in pleasure with each thrust.

“Uh-huh,” you moan out as his hand slides up your thigh, hitching it up on his hip. You moan louder at a deeper thrust.

Jason's hand squeezes yours, and he drops his head to kiss you. It grounds you, pulling you back from the sensations that make your head fuzzy. Your hand curls against the nape of his neck to keep him close as you kiss him back, sloppy and uncaring.

Your focus makes you listen, listen to the soft wet noises of him pushing into you, listen to his voice, tight with quiet moans as he breathes against your mouth.

“Doing good, baby,” he murmurs before he sucks on your bottom lip like he thought you'd disappear, “tight and warm”

Your pussy tightens at the way he talks to you, and also not, like there's some higher power that needed to know. He leaves your lips to nose at your jaw, hips stuttering.

“Don’t do that, sweetheart,” he laughs, with gasping breath.

“Wasn't trying to,” you reply, just as breathless and wanting. You tip your head, kissing his brow near your lip, wanting to show your tender love the way he does, “the way you talk is just…”

“I knew you’d like it,” he huffs against your skin, “making me read those romance books to you” 

His words are startlingly funny considering the moment, and you laugh, unintentionally tightening around him. He groans, pressing his face into your neck more. His hips thrust harder, leaving you arching at the motion and the way it rubs a nerve raw in just the right way.

“Jay!” Your hand clings to his hair, laughter gone.

His hand dips, thumb finding your already sensitive clit, rubbing against it as he repeats the harder thrust. You moan, your legs moving of their own accord, wrapping around his waist to drag him deeper. Gone was any uncomfortable sensation; all you had left was Jason and the simmering heat building with a newfound ferocity.

“It's okay,” he muttered, and you're not entirely sure he's speaking to you at first, “just a little longer. Take what you want.”

His words are the only thing that makes you realise that, as much as he's thrusting, your body is meeting in bucking hips, brought by the leverage of your legs around his waist.

“Sorry,” you moan as you arch and cling to him, still trying to meet his hips. He swallows your moans with a heavy kiss, hand caressing the skin of your thigh, hip and waist, just brushing your breasts.

“Don’t apologise,” he pants against your lips, foreheads pressing, “you're so hot” 

You laugh again, terribly breathless and needy, and Jason smiles against your lips, “My girl gets what she wants, she takes what she wants.”

“Want you,” you moan as your head falls back, body starting to tense again.

His lips move down to your chest, trailing wet as he speaks, “You have me.”

His hand presses yours into the bed, squeezing to remind you of his presence as if you couldn't feel him everywhere. And just like always, he reads your body before you do, thighs squeezing at him as you moan.

“Come on,” he moans into your skin, mouthing lower to the swell of your breasts, “I've got you, baby. Come on.”

That, along with the deep thrust and circled rub on your clit, has you toppling over in the most intense orgasm you think Jason has given you. Everything feels too much and not enough as your vision whites, the only sensation you know is Jason.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, fuzzy to your ears. His hips keep rocking his cock into your spasming cunt, dragging out your release, and then he disappears as he comes across your belly with a heaved moan, squeezing your hand like its life line.

You slowly come back to the land of the living, eyes blinking up at him in the dimming light of the evening in the apartment. He looks unfairly attractive in the sunset, but you let it slide for the way he smiles at you, panting for breath.

“Hi,” he folds back down over you despite the mess to kiss you softly.

“Hi,” you softly reply, worn out in a way you didn't know possible.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he shifts off you, gently prying your legs from his hips to lie beside you, blindly grabbing a shirt to wipe up your stomach.

“Okay?” You giggle as you roll on your side, shifting from the pressure of your thighs before settling comfortably. He copies you, lying on his side and curling his hand back in yours. 

He brings it to his lips and murmurs, "I didn't think you'd laugh so much. That bad?”

You shift again, faces close, “No, that good. It was everything a girl could wish for.”

You bring a hand up to comb through his sweaty hair and watch his eyes close, leaning into your touch. A peaceful quiet takes over as you both lounge bare on the bed, but together.

You nearly fall asleep like that before Jason shifts, picking you up bridal style. You wake right back up but don't argue, just lean your shoulder against him, “Where're we going?”

“The bathroom, “he kisses your hair, “aftercare, sweetheart. It's just as important as the sex.”

 You smile at his words, “How did I manage to get you?” 

“Being insane enough not to run from a shoot-out,” he laughs as he sets you on the counter.

“Oh, don't be mean!” You laugh with him. 

He holds his hands up in retaliation, “Alright, alright. The mean is only for when I fuck you tomorrow.”

You gap at his statement as he runs the bath, “You're planning?” 

“You asked,” he returns to gently hold your hips, smoothing you with more kisses, “and what my girl wants, she gets.”

---------------

Masterlist

Hello, Lily, it’s me James. I know that it’s been a while, but I still haven’t stopped thinking about you. I love you, I know it’s getting crazy repetitive after all these years, but I can’t help it, it’s true. I love you. I love everything about you from your hair to your clothes and especially the way you act, even when you’re yelling at me. Call me if you get this, or text or send a pigeon, anything. 

I look at the message again for the fourth time since I’ve received it this morning, the message that I got on my new phone after I changed my number, a message very clearly not intended for me. I shouldn’t meddle, whoever this James is, he will surely understand sooner or later that he sent this (sweet) message to the wrong number. My phone dings.

I’m sorry, that was too forward, but it’s nothing you didn’t already know, right? Ha, well I’m making a fool of myself here, I’ll talk to you at the reunion in a few weeks alright?

Oh, I sure hope everything ends up well from him. I lean over my phone, shielding it with my body, moving side to side on my chair, avoiding all the work that’s glaring at me from my computer’s screen. My chair swivels around quickly to the other side, someone’s hand twirling it on its base, making me face them. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Lizzy asks, taking my phone away from my hands, even after I desperately clutch it in between my fingers, accidentally pressing all the buttons. The screen turns black, but Lizzy only inserts my password to turn it on. I can never escape her. I groan, “Come on, Lizzy. We’ve talked about this. Not at home and at work-” 

“You didn’t tell me your name is Lily,” she says, furrowing an eyebrow at me in question. She pushes and probes at the screen as if it’s going to give her any more answers other than the heartfelt text that was sent. I shake my head, “It’s not.” 

“It’s an endearing message, are you going to reply?” she says, handing me back my phone by the tips of her fingers, carelessly. I clutch it in my lap and quickly look at the messages before looking at her, her body leaning on her desk, arms crossed. I shake my head again and say, “no, definitely not. It’s none of my business.” 

She nods but then she bites her lip the way she always does when she’s plotting something, most of the time, that something is not tasteful. She explains, “But what if he mentions the text at this reunion and completely embarrasses himself?”

“I didn’t think of that part…” I mumbled, my heart launched itself in my throat like a rocket when I saw the message. I couldn’t remember when was the last time someone told me something even close to that. Lizzy continues, “Exactly, and he seems nice enough, just give him a call and let him know that it’s the wrong number.” 

“Maybe a text would be better,” I say, I can’t imagine what a conversation on the phone would even look like, it’ll be easier to break the news via text. Lizzy rolls her eyes at me, taking my phone away from my hands again, this time I don’t resist. She clicks a few times before asking, “Do you think he’s hot?” 

“What?” 

“He sounds like he’s hot.” 

“How would I know-” I say, the first thing I checked when I received the message was the profile picture, that didn’t have any picture present. Our boss yells out from the door to her office, and Lizzy sprints back to her desk, and I turn, fast, hitting my knees on the desk beside me as I turn to face my computer, moving the mouse, haphazardly, acting as though work was the thing on my mind. 

Hey, James. I text as soon as our boss turns around after I looked behind me to make sure that she isn’t looking. I put my phone on my desk, and clear my head of all this nonsense. There are still six more hours to this workday and one hour till lunch, I need to get all this work done. 

My phone rings, loudly, echoing through the walls of the office. I rush to mute the ring before looking to find my boss glaring at me. I look at the caller, and- oh, god, it’s James. Caller ID showing his name in full James Potter, I don’t know any other James but him. I stand up abruptly, and whisper an apology to my boss, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” 

I walk out to the office, and stand outside the glass doors, finding Lizzy looking at me, curiously. I take a breath before sliding my finger on my phone, answering the call. 

“Lily?” 

James says, his voice soft and hopeful. I scrunch up my nose, this is exactly why I didn’t want to do this on call. I clear my throat and I say, “No, actually this is…um well, you can call me Birdie, everyone does.” 

“Is this not Lily Evan’s phone?” he says, deflated. I shake my head, and my face flushes, I reply, “No-I uh I just got this number a few weeks ago, she must’ve changed her’s.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line, it stays for a few seconds and I have to check if the call wasn’t cut off. There’s a long sigh before he asks, “So you read the message that I sent?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything-” 

“It’s okay, I’m glad I found this out before the reunion or else I would’ve completely humiliated myself trying to talk to her about the text,” he whispers, his words all breathy. The disappointment must be astronomical. I try to lift the burden by saying, “It was a really sweet message, maybe try to find her number and tell her again.”

“Nahh, I don’t think she’d want to hear it again,” he says. It must not be the first time he’s told her his feelings, though I gathered that much from the message. But why would he tell her again? No, no, this is none of my business, though James rambles, “I mean, it’s been years and I’ve been asking for a sign, maybe this is my sign. Do you think this is a sign?” 

“I-uh”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t involve you in this,” he says, saving me from having to answer. I shrug, “It’s okay.” I support my weight on the brick wall next to me and look inside the office through the glass doors. Lizzy, still looking at me curiously and our boss, still glaring. Another moment passes, and I hear shuffling on the other end of the phone. He says, “I think it’s a sign.” 

“I don’t know what’s happened between the both of you, but if this isn’t the first time you’ve confessed your feelings and all the times before they weren’t reciprocated…then as much as I hate to say it…it might not be meant to be,” I say, offering the advice that he didn’t ask for. My face turns red, who am I to act all high and mighty involving relationships when I’ve never had one?

“I’ll think about it,” his voice quivers at the end, “you said your name was Birdie?” 

“Nickname- uh, yes.” 

“Well, thank you, Birdie, I don’t want to waste any more of your day. Thank you for replying,” he says, and I bite my lip and roll my shoulders, trying to ease out the tension. That wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. I stand up, straightening, tearing my body off the wall, and walking the few steps to the door of the office. I say, “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” 

*** 

“We do not need name brand cereal,” I say, convincing Lizzy to put the expensive sugary breakfast back on the shelves. She points her finger at me, threatening, “If we don’t get the name brand cereal, then we should splurge on our hair.” 

She fails to realise that throwing money at cereal is much less costly than throwing money on a bunch of hair care products. Unconsciously, I twirl the ends of my hair around my fingers and I straighten my face to stop myself from wincing. I reach out my hand and shake hers, “Deal.” 

The store’s bell rings and a noisy group starts to walk through the aisles. I push our trolley away to the other side, heading to the personal items section. Lizzy starts to pick out specific products for her tightly coiled hair while I try to find a shampoo that will suit us both. 

“Sirius, just try not to waste all our time here,” someone says a few feet away from us. There’s a group of men that are also searching for shampoos of their own. The one named serious (?) replies, “Come on mooney, one doesn’t just wake up looking this good.” 

He flips his hair while doing so, his friends roll their eyes and continue to peruse the rows of products. I turn back to Lizzy, seeing her attention drawn to the boisterous group next to us, her eyes trained on the one named Sirius? She leaves the bottle of gel on the shelf and whispers in my ear, “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” 

I look back at the group, focusing on their appearance. There’s three of them. The first, the one who was referred to as moony, is much taller than the other two and he has brown hair. The second, Sirius, who’s caught Lizzy's fancy has longer black hair and is dressed in a leather jacket. The last one is more muscular than the other two with dark curly hair and glasses perched on his nose. 

“Well you sure do try,” the last one teases, with a beautiful smile on his face. Sirius ribs him in his stomach, but it doesn’t bother him that much. Sirius flips his hair over his shoulder, overdramatically, saying, “Shut up, James. Maybe if you gave in a little more effort the ladies would like you as much as they do me.” 

James? Funny how that name has been popping up so much in the last few months. He actually does sound kind of like…Lizzy continues that thought, “How funny would it be if it were James that texted you his un-dying love?” 

“He didn’t text me-” I start but my eyes fall to the group coming closer towards us and that’s how I notice the shelves of men’s shampoo right next to me. They toss us a few smiles before standing in front of the shelves picking up the strong smelling shampoos. Lizzy’s eyes trail over Sirius’ body before she grabs my hand for us to head over to the conditioners. She says, “Come on, Birdie.” 

“Birdie? James isn’t that the same-” 

Someone taps my shoulder. I turned around to face them, Lizzy’s fingers still wrapped tightly around my wrist, my shoulder tugged towards her. Sirius is standing with a wide inquisitive grin on his face. James hides behind ‘moony’, his face burning. Sirius clears his throat before asking, “Excuse me, this might sound a bit odd, but do you happen to be the Bridie that my dear James confused his undying love to mistakenly three months ago?” 

Lizzy shoves me to the side, and peeks her face from behind me. She places both her hands on my shoulders and shakes me. Lizzy answers for me, “Yup, that’s her.” 

James perks up from behind his tall friend, and before I can question anything, Sirius is on his knees on the ground, with his palms clutched together, as if he were pleading. He starts to say, “Thank you, thank you, after years, and years, you finally got it into prongs’ head that Lily doesn’t want him. Thank you!” 

“Prongs?”

“That’s James’ lil’ nickname. Anyways, thank you for doing what none of us could. THANK YOU!” he ends with his forehead landing on his clasped hands with his hair falling from behind his shoulders. My eyes flicker to Lizzy in questioning, what is happening? ‘Moony’ steps up and lifts Sirius up from the ground and he has an apologetic look on his face. 

“I’m not really sure I did much, maybe he just had that revelation on his own,” I mumble, my ears are red, people from the store are already watching this encounter. James finally speaks up, shoving Sirius to the side, giving him a tiny glare, “I’m really sorry about him, Birdie.” 

“It’s okay,” I say, trying not to flush under his gaze. I guess Lizzy was right, James is more handsome than I imagined. Sirius bounces on his feet and he says, looking back at ‘moony’ for a second, “We have to thank them, we should go buy them drinks.” 

“Sirius, we really shouldn’t-” 

“Oh, Remy, don’t worry-” he turns back to look at us, “You pick the place obviously, whatever makes you both comfortable.” 

I look back at Lizzy, we’re still doing our shopping despite how this situation is, we couldn’t just go out with them? She has a smile on her face, and she lifts her finger, while she pulls me behind, "Excuse us for a moment.” 

“So what are you thinking?” Lizzy says, as soon as we’re out of ear-shot, hidden behind one of the aisles. I take a peak back to where we were standing and notice James giving Sirius a heated talk while Remy watches in amusement. I answer, “I don’t know…” 

“I think we should go. I know we don’t know them, but we’ll just pick our regular coffee shop, the people there know us, and it’s bright out, and I can’t imagine us staying out for long. We can finally do something spontaneous and not spend the day arguing about what to spend on. Plus, they’re really hot,” Lizzy concludes, this time her head turning back for her to take a look.

She doesn’t say it, but I know she wants to, she wants me to finally go out and do something else, something new. She wants me to date, and she thinks this will be a stepping stone, though I don’t know how this will help with that. I shrug my shoulders and mumble, “Alright.” 

She grins and we walk back to them. Remy notices first, clearing his throat loudly, alerting the other two of our presence and they both look away, straightening up. Lizzy says, “I know this great spot for coffee, you alright with coffee?” 

They all nod and we head on our way. 

***

“What do you want, gorgeous?” Sirius asks as soon as Lizzy and I sit down on the couch, giving Lizzy a sly grin. She mirrors the expression and slides her hair behind her shoulder, she replies, coyly, “A shaken espresso with oat milk.” 

I shove her playfully as soon as Sirius is out of view and her cheeks flush a light pink that I rarely see. James juts his bottom lip out and asks, “What about you Birdie? And Remus?” 

“It’s okay I don’t mind anything,” I reply shrugging my shoulders, avoiding looking directly into his beautiful brown eyes. Remy? No- Remus says, “You really don’t mind anything?” 

I’m about to repeat the same statement as before when Lizzy nudges me with a look. I flush and say, “My favorite is actually a caramel latte please, if you don’t mind.” 

“Your wish is my command,” James jokes with a pretty smile before turning to Remus, “The usual?” 

Remus nods, and he sits down on the chair beside the couch we’re on. Lizzy’s too busy staring at Sirius’ back to notice Remus wanting to say something. I turn to the brunette and he starts, “I hope you’re not feeling too uncomfortable, Sirius always means well even if he doesn’t always get the social cues.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, what’s wrong with a little bit of spontaneity?" a reply with a grimace at the last part, I can’t remember the last time I did something without extensive planning, Lizzy squeezes my thigh under the table in comfort. I thank her with a smile. My eyes glance over to where James and Sirius are getting drinks, and I mumble, “I’m not sure James wants to do this though.” 

“Oh-I I think he does, he’s mentioned you a few times, I think it’s a surprise-” he stutters before Lizzy turns to him quickly as soon as she sees the two men walking over hands filled with drinks. She asks, “Is Sirius dating anyone?” 

“No-” 

“Perfect,” she says, before leaning forward on the table, forcing her chest out. I chuckle under my breath at my friend’s antics, and even Remus’ lips quirk upwards. Sirius sets down Lizzy’s drink in front of her with a wink and she wraps her lips around the straw and sets her eyes on him. I look away, Lizzy sure is bold. 

James looks away from the ongoing interaction and clears his throat. He sets down Remus’ drink from his left hand and my own with his right, then he grabs his cup that was suffocating between his bicep and forearm. I try not to look at the condensation dripping on his muscles from the cold drink. The only difference between Lizzy and I is that I keep the thoughts in my head. 

James sits opposite to me and Sirius next to him. I sip my drink quietly enjoying the sugar flavor on my tongue. I look to my left and notice the espresso shot that Remus is drinking, I ask, “You don’t drink it with any sugar or cream?” 

Remus gulps down the sip he was taking and sets the small paper cup down with a small clunk. He shakes his head and explains, “I like coffee, I don’t need anything to drown the taste.” 

I nod my head and feel the awkwardness to seep in, what was there to talk about? I barely know a thing about these people, and as I face the right and find Lizzy still making eyes at Sirius, I feel the urge to say anything. As seamlessly as possible I try to open my phone, and scroll the chat between James and I, trying to find a clue on what to say, looking up every few seconds to make sure that I’m not offending anyone- yes, okay this is good. 

“You mentioned that you had a high school reunion or something like that?” 

“Ah yes, it was uh- a few weeks ago,” James answers, connecting the dots since he mentioned it to me around a month ago. That pulls Sirius’ attention and he slams his hand on his friends shoulder, a strong hand that doesn’t move James in the slightest, must be all the muscles. Sirius says, “It was exactly seventy two days ago, I will remember that historical day for all my life.” 

“Why exactly is it historical again?” Lizzy asks, and just as Sirius beams, James sags. Sirius leans back in his chair and tangles his fingers on the table in front of him. He explains, boistrously, “The day that James finally proved that he moved on from Lily.” 

“An ex girlfriend?” Lizzy asks, I musn’t have filled her in on all the details. Sirius repeats all the information that I already know to Lizzy with every explanation and facial expression flirtatious. It’s a special talent to make a simple conversation flirtatious. I feel someone’s eyes on me and I find James, watching me. I flush and look away again while he inconspiciously grabs his cup and starts to suck on the straw. 

I stare out of the window and think, what is the goal here again? Obviously, Lizzy and Sirius have it figured out, but what am I doing here? I’m definelty not going to ask James out, he seems embaressed by the whole ordeal actually. I know I would be if the roles were reversed. 

“Hey, Biride, can you go get me a cookie?” Lizzy interupts my thoughts and bats her eyelashes at me. I purse my lips, suspiciously but nod anyways. After I stand, Sirius looks to James and says, “Hey, mate, can you go get me a cookie too?” 

Sirius also bats his eyelashes at James. It only makes me look at Lizzy with more suspicioun. When did they plan this? James doesn’t give his friend a response, he instead stands and tilts his head to ask me, “Come with me?” 

I nod my head and scoot between the table and couch and behind Remus’ chair. We walk the two feet together, but not before I shot Lizzy a look, she instead gives me two excited thumbs up. My face heats up and I hear James saying, “Two cookies please.”

He hands his card over to Charles the cachier, and I stumble over my words, “Oh, you don’t have to-” 

“Come on, Birdie, let your handsome date pay for your things,” Charles interupts, and I glare at him and ignore the way he eyes James, not that I’ve been any better. James says, “I forgot you were a regular here.” 

I nod my head and internally beg Charles to stop talking but he starts to- oh, god- threaten James, “I see Birdie here every few days, if you so much as even look at her the wrong way, I will have your head. I might not look it, but I can swing a nice punch.” 

“It’s not-” 

“I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry,” James says, and Charlies smiles, genuinly and wishes him a nice day while giving him his receipt, reverting back to his customer service voice. We move aside away from the line waiting at the cachier and stand to the side to receive our order. I lift my hands up to my face and press the back of my fingers to my cheeks trying to cool down the heat. 

“I’m sorry about him,” I say, giving Charles a glare while he takes the order of the next customer. James chuckles deep with his chest, and says, “It’s okay, I’m sorry about this whole thing too.” 

“It’s okay,” I mirror his words, and he leans on the ceramic table. His arms bulging under his weight, I move my eyes back to his face quickly, hoping that he didn’t catch me oogling his arms for the millionth time in the last hour. He asks, “when you called me, you were at work,  right?” 

I nod my head and remember the stern talking to that my boss gave me after I hung up the phone. I’m not in the mood to talk about my own job, so I turn the question around, “What do you do?”  

“I’m a hockey player,” James replies, and my mouth forms an ‘O’ in understanding. I say before I can stop myself, “Well, that explains it.” 

“Explains what?” James asks, innocently but with his lips turned upwards. Oh my god, what am I supposed to say? That explains your amazing muscular body, I can’t- I swear I see his pecs flex under his shirt. I ramble, “I- I mean, you’re just- I don’t know, well, you know, you seem-” 

“I’m just messing with you,” James laughs, and I cover my face with my hands. This couldn’t be going any worse. My face must be burning. James leans down, and through my fingers I can see him. I pull my hands away from my face, and he grins, oh, he’s going to kill me, instinctivly, I look away, my eyes falling on my friend who is pulling out all her moves right before my eyes; the lip bite, the hair toss, the works. 

I also notice that Sirius’ hand is itching to grab her’s over the table. They seem to be really hitting it off. To the other end of the table, there is Remus sitting, phone face down, and espresso cup empty, looking anywhere but at the sight in front of him. I say, “we should go save Remus.” 

“You’re very kind, but he’s used to it by now,” James says, and I frown slightly. Does Sirius do this sort of thing a lot? I wouldn’t want Lizzy to get too invested and have her heart broken. James adds, “Don’t worry about your friend, Sirius acts all flirtatious but he has a good heart.” 

I nod my head and look away from the table. Marjorie slides two plates over to us, gliding over the ceramic counter, each with a cookie on top of them. James grabs both before I can act, and we start walking towards the table. Just two feet away, still out of earshot because of the chatter in the cafe. He stops and says, “Birdie.” 

I hum, and turn to face him, I notice the tight grip he has on the small circular plates. He stares at his shoes and then looks me in the eye. I press my lips together and he starts, “Excuse me if I’m being too-uh forward, but are you seeing anyone right now?” 

I accidentally slightly bite my lip in surprise. I let out a small pained noise, and James takes a step forward qujickly apologizeing, “I’m sorry I asked, it’s none of my business-” 

I wave him off and take a moment to let the sting in my mouth quiet down. I explain, “Sorry, I just bit my tongue,” James laughs and I can’t help but chuckle too as the pain simmers down, “no, I’m not seeing anyone, right now.” 

He smiles and nods his head, sheepishly. We take another step towards the table when he adds, “You wouldn’t mind if I called you sometime?” 

I shake my head, and say, “Not at all,” his smile widens, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. I look at the wooden boards, feeling my own grin on my face. Lizzy notices, of course and her eye brows quirk up with a knowing expression. We sit back down on the table, and it’s only an hour before we have to leave to go on with our own days. 

I try not to think about James calling, most men say they will, but don’t, or say they will and actually call many days or even a week later. Still, I can’t help but make sure that my phone is on the maximum volume, making sure I don’t miss the phone when it does ring. On our way home Lizzy says, “It’s sort of like fate, isn’t it? A sign?” 

I shrug my shoulders, the words simillar to what I heard from James three months ago. I try not to get my hopes up, but I have a good feeling about all this. Lizzy gave Sirius her number too. Later in the day, just an hour after the sun went down, my phone rings, Lizzy laughs when I jump to where it is. Caller ID says, James Potter.

He called so quickly, this has got to be a good sign, right? I take in a deep breath and let it ring for an extra second before I pick it up, “Hello?” 

“Hey, Birdie.” 

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading! If you think this didn’t completely suck, feel free to check out my other masterlists. You can also support the blog or buy me a coffee here.

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The humidity was too high? He was annoyed. The Colts didn’t win a game? He was sulking. The universe didn’t align to his every whim and need? He was pissed and he was going to make it everyone else’s problem.

And tonight, this was your issue, because you were scheduled to work the closing shift with Steve.

Great.

Robin says something to him that you don’t hear before slipping out of the booth, scurrying over to where you’re hanging your belongings up on the coatrack and hurriedly whispers, “He was up all night trying to find Dustin again, got no sleep. Rare form today.”

“I don’t understand how you’re friends with him,” you whisper back, letting your purse fall to the ground. “He’s an asshole, Rob.”

She makes a face, tilting her hand back and forth in the air as if to say, well…

“Steve’s a good guy when you get to know him,” she settles on saying. “Anyway, I have to run or I’ll miss my date. Have fun, be nice, and don’t kill each other, alright?”

“No promises,” you mutter, and Robin laughs as she skips out the door.

Steve is, if possible, even more irate when you slip into the booth, avoiding eye contact and gunning for the chair, hoping to keep conversation to the minimum for the next six hours.

He, on the other hand, has no such desire.

“Do you not know how to show up to work on time?” he huffs out. “Seriously, a couple of minutes is one thing, but half an hour—”

“And spend more time with your sparkling personality than I have to?” you snap without looking at him. “I think not. Besides, it’s not as though I suddenly have control over what the hell the military is doing.”

“It’s called planning,” he snarks.

You breathe in, once, sharply, and bite your tongue.

But Steve isn’t content to simply drop it, the way he’s never been content to drop it. And honestly, you don’t pretend to understand the intricacies of his life; You understand that he looks out for a bunch of kids, that one of them is in a coma, that another one is going off the deep end and taking all of his grief out on Steve. And at one point in time, that would’ve been more than enough for you to give him your deepest sympathies, to extend a level of grace only given to the most extreme of cases.

Except—

Then you’d met Steve, and he’d taken one look at you, wrinkled his nose, and asked Robin, “Did we really need to hire someone else?”

Your relationship hadn’t been anything better than adversarial ever since.

“—could take your job a little more seriously,” he continues to rant. “It’s not exactly like we’re flush with cash around here, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of people looking for jobs—”

The chair you’re sitting in scrapes against the floor as you stand abruptly, whirling around to find Steve standing entirely too close.

You see red, demanding, “God, what will it take for you to just shut up?”

Steve grins. “You could suck my dick.”

There’s a moment where the two of you are left standing there, chest to chest, nose to nose, and you can see the dare in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. The fact that he doesn’t actually mean it, but he wants to push your buttons, to get you to react more than you ever have before.

He doesn’t have any intentions on you calling his bluff, and you’re determined to not lose this game.

“Fine,” you say sweetly. You move past him, snagging his wrist as you do. “But not in here. I don’t think Robin would be too happy if she found out.”

For the first time tonight, Steve doesn’t have a response. He doesn’t even fight you as you drag him along to a nearby closet, yanking the door open, shoving him in, and slamming it shut behind you. The room is plunged into darkness and you feel your way over to him, your fingers grazing the soft material of his sweatshirt. 

His hands find your waist, skimming up your sides until his palms are pressed into your cheeks, his breath hot on your lips, but before he can get any bright ideas, you say, “I said I’d suck your dick, not make out with you.”

You can practically feel his frown as he shifts his hands back, tangling them with your hair. 

“Fine,” he says shortly. “Then do it.”

That’s all the warning you get before you’re pushed to your knees.

You don’t waste any time reaching for his belt, undoing it with shaky hands as he continues to run his fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots the smallest amount when you pull his jeans and boxers down just enough to take him in hand.

A gasp gets caught in your throat when, even half hard, your thumb and pointer finger barely meet.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Find something you like?”

“Fuck you.”

His fingers tighten in your hair. “Do you ever shut up? God.”

And as his thumb traces a path down your jaw, stopping just as it reaches your lips, you spit out, “Make me.”

His grip on your chin tightens as his thumb dips between your teeth, pressing down on your tongue and drawing your mouth open. Spit pools as you give him a few rough pumps, the tip of his cock jutting against your chin. He drops his other hand, then, placing it over yours as he taps the tip against your lips.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, pulling his thumb back and guiding himself in.

The heady taste of precome spreads across your tastebuds as he sinks into your mouth, his cock sliding over your tongue as you take him deeper. He lets out a low grunt, and for a moment, you wish that you’d had the foresight to turn the light on so you could see the face he’s making as he hits the back of your throat.

You gag and he lets out a quiet whimper as you pull back, instinctively looking up and wishing that he could see you as well. But even just hearing the sounds he’s making — you can imagine the wrecked look on his face, the flush spreading across his cheeks, and it’s enough to have arousal coursing through your own body.

(Because even though he acts like he has the power in this situation, you both know well enough that you’re the one wielding the proverbial blade.)

He guides you back down, muttering a curse when you take him just a little bit deeper, swallowing down your gag reflex as your hand twists around the base of his cock. 

And for all of the hell you gave him over everything, you find that you don’t quite mind letting him set the pace. There’s something intoxicating about the precome spilling onto your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, smiling when he moans, and all at once, he grips you by the roots of your hair and thrusts in.

“You can take it,” he grunts. “Fucking know you can. Always mouthing off, always getting in my business — well you’re all quiet now, yeah?”

Despite yourself, you nod, your hands sliding down to hold his thighs as he fucks your face, tears welling int he corners of your eyes. It should be humiliating to let yourself be used like this, to let your asshole coworker treat your body like an object for his own pleasure, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when all of this is turning you on as well.

One tear slips down your cheek, and then two, and in a move that’ll no doubt have you reeling for weeks, his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness gathered there, even as he continues to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

“Just like that,” he says, voice dropping. “You like this, don’t you?”

You hum around his cock, wrapping your arm around his leg to pull him in even closer, to take him even deeper. He swears loudly when the tip of your nose brushes against his bush, and you only manage to hold him there for a few seconds before you’re forced to release, dizzy as you gasp for air.

You sit there, panting, and before Steve can even move, you pull him back closer, desperate to take him even deeper — to take him all the way — to have the exhilarating feeling of choking on his cock pull you further into the depravity you’ve found yourself in. He makes a noise of surprise when you repeat the motion, your nose pressing into his pelvis as he mutters fuck fuck fuck, and you whine when he pulls you off.

“You wanna choke on it that bad, huh?” he asks, condescending and sweet at the same time. “Wanna cry some more for me?”

“Fuck you,” you say, already reaching for his cock again.

But he doesn’t let you.

One hand grips your hair even tighter as he tilts your head back while the other slaps the tip of his cock against your lips, saying, “Open up for me. Gonna see what that bratty mouth of yours can do, yeah? Gonna make me feel good?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, though, before he bullies his way in, setting a brutal pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. More tears spill down your cheeks at the pressure, but there’s no part of you that can deny how good it feels either. To be used without care, to have someone’s aggression taken out on you. Your clit throbs at the thought of doing something more, of seeing what else he can do when he’s as pent up as he has been for months.

He laughs when you gag. “Who knew that all I had to do to get you to be a little nicer to me was use your mouth?”

You pinch his thigh in retaliation — you’ve been perfectly nice, thank you very much — and in response, he presses even further down your throat.

“Gonna let me come in your mouth?” His voice comes out a little more ragged, a little more choppy as his hips stutter.

You nod (as much as you can, anyway, with his thick length prying your jaw apart) and he makes a contented sound, smoothing your hair away from your face in a way that’s entirely at odds with how roughly he’s using your mouth.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Thought so.”

His hand curls into your hair as he presses his front against your face, your nose grinding into it. You squeeze your eyes closed as the head of his cock nears the back of your throat, and then you feel it — the way he fills your mouth and throat, his come flooding it as he finishes deep within you. He pulls back and the last few spurts land on your tongue, mix with the rest already dripping down your throat, and your tongue presses against the underside of his length as you swallow.

You sit there for a moment, the only sound being made is that of your panting, before he pulls you up suddenly, fingers digging into your forearms, his lips crashing into yours. A startled noise escapes you as he presses you back into the wall, hands scrabbling for stability, and in the next moment, he finds the pull chain and the small closet is finally filled with light as he pulls back, his eyes dancing across your face.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, as though he has a reason to be out of breath. “Fuck.”

You open your mouth to retort, to say something, but he only pulls you back in for another kiss, his nose crushing painfully into your cheek and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip.

You let him in.

Steve, it seems, has no issue in tasting his own come in your mouth, eager and willing to explore every corner as you sink further into his hold, your own arms coming around to wrap around his neck. You feel him smile against you, and you can’t stop your own giggles from spilling out when he runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth.

And finally, finally, you pull away, chest heaving as you search his face, his brown eyes gazing at you with something more than thinly veiled annoyance for the first time, and a decision is made before you can think it through.

“If you need some stress relief again,” you say, grinning. “Let me know. Might be able to help.”

He huffs out a laugh, dropping his head against your shoulder.

“And next time I’m having a bad day…” You pry his arms from you and slip past him, cracking open the door just the tiniest amount. You glance over your shoulder to find him staring at you in open surprise. “I know who to call.”

Your eyes immediately drop to the little cardboard box of screws that had apparently slipped from your arm, scattering across the concrete. Before you can bend down, he's already crouched, gathering them one by one.

"Oh my God, thank you," you mutter, already embarrassed. "Today's just... one of those days."

He stands, holding the box out to you. "Trust me, I have a lot of those."

Before you can answer, the tiny voice from your shopping cart pipes up.

"Mama forgot apples."

You look over at your daughter, whose legs are happily swinging from the front of the cart as if the world isn't actively trying to kick your ass.

"We're not at the grocery store, bug."

"I know."

"So..."

"I still wanted apples."

The man snorts, trying to hide it behind his hand, and you can't help smiling despite yourself. He glances at the collection of fittings in your cart before looking back at you.

"So... you remodeling your house or planning on flooding it?"

You hold up the wrinkled list. "My kitchen sink won't stop leaking."

He nods once. "And you got sent here with that list?"

"My landlord told me it'd be an 'easy fix.'"

His face immediately says everything. "Oh..."

"What?"

He scratches the back of his neck. "I mean... no offense to your landlord, but he's either lazy or doesn't know what he's talking about."

You laugh, genuinely this time. "Could be both."

"Probably both."

He steps beside your cart and gently picks up one of the connectors you'd grabbed. "You don't actually need this one."

"No?"

"Nope."

He swaps it for another. "And this thread tape is garbage."

"It is?"

"It's the cheapest stuff they make."

"I picked it because it was the cheapest stuff they make."

He smiles. "Fair enough."

For the next ten minutes, he walks beside you through the aisle, explaining everything in terms that actually make sense instead of sounding like a repair manual. He never talks down to you, never makes you feel stupid, just casually points things out with an easy patience that surprises you.

Your daughter has apparently decided he's the most fascinating person she's ever seen.

She leans over the cart. "Mister."

He looks over. "Yeah?"

"I like your hair."

He instinctively reaches up to touch it. "Thanks."

"You look like a lion."

You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

He pauses for a second before grinning. "I've been called worse."

She nods thoughtfully. "I have a unicorn."

"That's awesome."

"It's pink."

"My favorite color."

Her eyes widen. "No way."

"Way."

She gasps dramatically and immediately begins digging through the pile of toys she'd somehow accumulated in the shopping cart.

You rub your forehead. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"She adopts people."

He glances down at the little girl now proudly presenting him with a stuffed dinosaur that has clearly seen better days. "I'm being recruited?"

"I'm afraid so."

He accepts the dinosaur with complete seriousness. "An honor."

Your daughter beams. Mission accomplished.

After another few minutes, he places the final item into your cart. "There."

You stare at the contents. "So... this should actually fix it?"

"Should."

You hesitate, then smile sheepishly. "You don't happen to know how to install it too, right?"

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you immediately regret them.

"Oh my God, forget I said that."

He laughs. "No, actually..." He rubs the back of his neck. "I do."

"You do?"

"Spent enough years fixing my uncle's trailer. Not licensed or anything, but I know what I'm doing."

You study him for another second. "And what's the catch?"

"The catch?"

"Nobody just offers to fix a complete stranger's sink."

His eyebrows lift. "I wasn't exactly offering."

"No?"

"I was kind of waiting to see if you'd ask."

You laugh. "So now that I have?"

He pretends to think. "Hmm..."

Your daughter kicks her feet again. "Mama makes yummy grilled cheese."

He looks at her. "She does?"

She nods emphatically. "And tomato soup."

You cover your face. "Honey..."

She points at him. "He can come over."

He immediately raises both hands. "For the record, I support stranger danger."

"He doesn't look dangerous."

"I appreciate that very much."

She studies him another second. "You got nice eyes."

His ears actually turn pink. "Thank you."

Then she sticks out one tiny hand. "I'm Rosie."

He shakes it with complete sincerity. "I'm Eddie."

She smiles like she's known him forever.

You don't know what possesses you to trust him. Maybe it's the way he talks to your daughter like she's a real person instead of a nuisance. Maybe it's because he's spent the last fifteen minutes helping you without expecting anything in return.

Or maybe it's because, for the first time in what feels like years, someone looked at you and didn't see a burden. He just saw you. 

"So..." you say carefully. "If you're sure..."

He shrugs. "I'll fix your sink."

"And if it turns out to be a bigger problem?"

"Then I'll tell you honestly."

"And if you can't fix it?"

"We'll order pizza and pretend we never touched it."

A laugh slips out before you can stop it. "That's a terrible plan."

"It's worked for me before."

Rosie is already nodding enthusiastically. "I like pizza."

He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I think she's on my side."

You smile. "I think she’s usually on the opposite of mine."

Neither of you could've known then that the sink would be fixed in under twenty minutes. Or that he'd stay another three hours because Rosie insisted on showing him every stuffed animal she owned.

Or that he'd come back the next weekend because she'd proudly announced she wanted to show him her coloring book.

Or that months later she'd accidentally call him "Dad," clap both hands over her mouth in horror, and burst into tears because she thought she'd hurt his feelings.

And years after that, if anyone ever asked Eddie Munson when he met the love of his life, he'd grin and tell them it happened in the plumbing aisle because a stubborn little girl needed apples and her exhausted mother didn't know the difference between a pipe coupling and a garden hose.

2 years later…

By the time you pull into the driveway, your shoulders are aching from wrestling grocery bags in and out of the trunk, and your patience has been thoroughly tested by the woman in front of you at the checkout who insisted on writing a check in the year 1998.

You manage to hook three bags over one arm, another two over the other, and nudge the front door closed behind you with your hip.

The house is quiet for approximately three seconds, then you hear it: a tiny burst of giggling. Then another. Then Eddie's voice, dramatically lowered into what can only be described as a very serious royal accent.

"I'm terribly sorry, Your Majesty, but Sir Teddy Bear has informed me that the strawberry scones have been stolen by dragons."

Rosie's gasp is so loud you hear it from the foyer. "No!"

"I'm afraid so."

"The pink dragons or the green ones?"

"The pink ones."

She sighs dramatically. "They're always doing that."

You quietly set the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before peeking around the corner into the living room, and your heart almost physically stops.

The coffee table has been pushed against the wall, a floral blanket spread neatly across the rug with every stuffed animal Rosie owns arranged in a perfect little circle. Tiny plastic teacups are balanced precariously in front of each guest, alongside mismatched toy plates covered in invisible desserts.

And sitting right in the middle of it all...is Eddie. 

He's cross-legged on the floor, his long curls pulled into two horribly uneven pigtails secured with glittery pink scrunchies. Rosie has somehow convinced him to wear a feather boa, an oversized plastic pearl necklace, and a paper crown that's hanging halfway off his head.

He still has a black band tee and jeans on, of course. The tiara somehow makes it look even cooler.

Rosie notices you first. "Mama!"

She jumps up and nearly spills an imaginary cup of tea all over herself before sprinting toward you, wrapping herself around your legs.

"Eddie's having tea with us."

"I can see that."

She beams proudly. "He knows all the rules."

You glance over at him as he lifts the tiny plastic teacup with absolute dignity. "I've been informed that my pinky needs to stay out."

Rosie immediately corrects him. "It stays up."

"My apologies."

He raises it another inch. "Better?"

She nods approvingly. "Much."

You can't stop smiling. "What exactly am I looking at here?"

Rosie grabs your hand and starts dragging you toward the blanket. "We're princesses."

Eddie quietly adds, "I'm Princess Sparkles."

You bite your lip so hard it almost hurts. "Princess Sparkles?"

He nods solemnly. "I wasn't given a choice."

Rosie immediately spins around. "You picked that one."

He freezes. "...I was given a choice."

She points a tiny accusing finger at him. "You said it was the coolest one."

"It was."

"You said sparkles make everything better."

"They do."

"So you wanted it."

He looks over at you with complete resignation. "I have no defense."

Rosie climbs right back onto the blanket before patting the empty spot beside her. "Mama, sit."

You carefully lower yourself onto the floor, smoothing your jeans beneath you. Immediately, Rosie starts pouring from an empty plastic teapot into your equally empty cup.

"This one's raspberry."

You take a sip with complete seriousness. "Oh my goodness."

She smiles. "It's yummy."

"It's delicious."

Eddie clears his throat. "If I may..."

Rosie nods graciously. "You may."

He lifts his cup. "I detect notes of raspberry with... perhaps a hint of gasoline."

Rosie frowns. "No."

"No?"

"No gasoline."

"My mistake."

She leans over and whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear. "It's strawberries."

He nods in understanding. "Ah. An excellent vintage."

She looks unbelievably proud of herself.

The tea party continues for another twenty minutes, complete with imaginary cookies, a lengthy debate between Bunny and Mr. Dinosaur over proper table manners, and Rosie insisting everyone sing happy birthday to a stuffed giraffe whose birthday appears to have been invented on the spot.

Eventually, she crawls into Eddie's lap without thinking, settling there like it's the most natural place in the world. He absentmindedly smooths a hand over her hair while continuing an entirely serious conversation with the stuffed giraffe.

"And how old are you turning today?"

Rosie answers for it. "Six."

"Oh wow."

"But not really."

"Oh."

"It's pretend."

"Right."

"You're bad at pretending."

"I'm learning."

She reaches up and gently fixes one of his crooked pigtails. "There."

He smiles. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Your chest aches. Not because of anything dramatic. Not because of all the nights you sat awake wondering if Rosie would grow up wondering why she wasn't enough for someone to stay. It aches because she no longer wonders.

She has Eddie. The man currently accepting fake tea from a five-year-old with the same reverence most people reserve for expensive wine. The man wearing a plastic tiara without a single complaint. The man who never once made her feel like she wasn't his.

He catches your eye from across the blanket, so you smile at him softly. He smiles back.

Then Rosie reaches up and shoves another glittery necklace over his curls. "There."

He looks down. "What does this one make me?"

She grins so wide her cheeks puff out. "My daddy."

Silence settles over the room for just a heartbeat. Eddie doesn't hesitate; he just looks up at her with the gentlest expression you've ever seen and presses a kiss against the top of her head.

"My favorite title I've ever had."

Rosie simply nods like that was the obvious answer all along before returning to her tea.

By the time Rosie is tucked into bed, complete with three stuffed animals, one bedtime story, a glass of water she absolutely won't drink, and a solemn promise that you'll check for monsters under the bed even though she's well aware monsters don't exist, the house has settled into that quiet only late evenings seem capable of producing.

The dishwasher hums softly in the kitchen. The television is on low volume, neither of you really paying attention to whatever old movie is playing.

You've long since changed into one of Eddie's old shirts, sleeves swallowing your hands, and he's stretched out on the couch with his legs kicked over the coffee table, one arm lazily draped around your shoulders while the other balances a bottle of beer against his knee.

You're tucked comfortably against his side, your own beer untouched for the last fifteen minutes because somehow you've become completely distracted tracing absentminded circles against his forearm.

Neither of you says much; you never really have to. Comfortable silence had become one of your favorite languages together. After almost two years, it isn't awkward anymore; it's simply home.

Eddie presses a kiss against your temple before taking another sip of his beer. "Can I ask you something?"

You tilt your head up. "When have you ever waited for permission?"

He grins. "Fair."

He looks back toward the television for another moment before his expression softens. "You don't have to answer."

Your fingers stop moving.

"But..." He shrugs. "I realized the other day I don't actually know what happened."

You don't have to ask; you know exactly what he means.

He keeps his voice careful. "Rosie's dad."

For a second, all you do is stare at the condensation rolling down your bottle. It's funny. People assume single mothers talk about it all the time. In reality...you spend most of your life trying not to.

After a quiet moment, you let out a slow breath. "I was married."

You feel Eddie's arm tighten ever so slightly around your shoulders, but he doesn't interrupt.

"We got married young."

You smile faintly, though there's no humor in it. "I thought that was what you were supposed to do."

He stays quiet.

"So we got married, got an apartment together, talked about vacations we'd never actually take because money was always tight."

You laugh softly. "We used to argue over whose turn it was to buy toilet paper."

Eddie smiles. "The truly romantic stuff."

"The glamorous side of marriage."

Your smile fades. "When I found out I was pregnant... I was terrified."

You look down at your hands. "I remember sitting in the bathroom, staring at the test, thinking there had to be a mistake."

"And then?"

"And then I got excited."

Your voice comes out almost embarrassingly quiet. "I started making lists. I looked at baby names. I started clipping little nursery ideas out of magazines. I remember standing in the grocery store crying because I walked past baby socks."

A tiny laugh escapes you. "They were so little."

Eddie reaches over and quietly intertwines his fingers with yours, and you squeeze them.

"I couldn't wait to tell him."

You stare at the floor.

"He didn't cry. He didn't smile. He just looked at me."

The silence stretches.

"I remember asking him if he was okay. He just stood and told me he'd be back later."

You swallow. "He wasn't."

You blink a couple times before continuing. "He started coming home less. He worked late. He stopped touching me. Hell, he stopped looking at me."

Your voice remains remarkably calm. "I found lipstick on one of his shirts."

Eddie's jaw clenches.

"I asked him about it." You laugh quietly. "He told me I was hormonal."

"A month later, he asked for a divorce."

Eddie finally looks down at you. You don't look angry anymore; you just look tired.

"He actually used the words..." You smile bitterly. "'I think we've grown into different people.'"

He says nothing.

"So I signed." Your thumb rubs absentmindedly over the bottle label. "A week later he moved in with someone else."

"A girl barely old enough to drink." You let out another humorless little laugh. "My mother called it trading in for a younger model."

You look toward the ceiling. "I think she was trying to make me laugh."

"Did it?"

"A little."

Your eyes drift toward the hallway leading to Rosie's room.

"He never came to appointments. He wasn't there when she was born. He didn't call. He didn't write. He never met her."

Eddie's entire face has gone still. "He knows about her?"

You nod once. "He just... didn't want her."

The words hang in the room. Simple, matter-of-fact. Far crueler because of it.

You shrug one shoulder. "It took me a long time not to think there was something wrong with me."

Your voice cracks for the first time. "Then I worried there was something wrong with her."

Eddie turns immediately. "There isn't."

"I know that now."

"But at three in the morning with a newborn who won't stop crying and bills stacked on the counter..."

You smile through watery eyes. "You start asking yourself questions you know aren't true."

Without saying a word, Eddie reaches over and gently takes your beer from your hand before setting both bottles on the coffee table. Then he wraps both arms around you, like he's trying to hold every broken piece anyone else ever left behind.

You bury your face into his shirt, and he presses his cheek against your hair. After a minute, he quietly says, "Can I tell you something?"

You nod.

"The first day I met Rosie..."

You smile despite yourself. "The hardware store?"

"The hardware store."

He chuckles softly. "When she held out that stuffed dinosaur and told me his name was Mr. Pickles..."

You laugh through your sniffle. "It was Mr. Sprinkles."

"Oh." He grins. "See? I wasn't listening."

"You absolutely were."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was busy because this tiny little person had just informed me that dinosaurs eat grilled cheese."

"They do."

"They absolutely do." He kisses your forehead. "I remember thinking..."

"...that if I ever got lucky enough to have a kid someday..." His voice lowers. "I hoped they'd look at me the way she did."

You close your eyes.

"And then I kept coming over." Another kiss against your temple. "And somewhere along the way..."

He shrugs against you. "...I stopped imagining some hypothetical kid."

"It was just Rosie."

You feel your throat tighten and he smiles into your hair. "I don't know the first thing about biology. I don't care whose eyes she has. I don't care whose nose she has. I don't care who signed what paper or what his last name was."

He gently tips your chin up until you're looking at him. "I've been hers since she handed me that beat-up stuffed dinosaur."

You can't stop the tears anymore, and he wipes one away with his thumb.

"And for the record..." His voice is impossibly soft. "The biggest idiot in Indiana walked away from you."

He gives you that crooked little grin that still makes your heart flutter after all this time. "Worked out pretty great for me, though."

You laugh, sniffling. "Yeah?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He starts counting on his fingers. "I got the prettiest girl I've ever met."

You roll your eyes. "Mm-hmm."

"I got a kid who thinks dinosaurs eat grilled cheese."

"They do."

"They absolutely do."

"And..." He leans over to steal a quick kiss. "I got invited to tea parties."

"A real privilege."

"The highest honor."

You smile into another kiss. Then he rests his forehead against yours and murmurs so quietly you're not sure he even meant to say it out loud.

"I didn't step up because someone else stepped out." His thumb brushes your cheek. "I stepped up because I fell in love with you."

"And somewhere along the way..." His smile softens into something almost impossibly gentle. "...I fell in love with her too."

You don't answer; you just lean into him until he's practically swallowing you whole with one of his hugs.

The familiar rumble of Eddie's van pulls into the driveway just as Rosie finishes painting approximately half of your thumbnail and almost all of your finger.

She leans back with a look of absolute pride. "There."

You hold your hand up to admire the aggressively uneven layer of bright pink polish coating your nail and cuticle alike. "It's beautiful, bug."

"I know."

She nods very matter-of-factly before dipping the tiny brush back into the bottle with all the confidence of a seasoned professional and absolutely none of the precision. The front door creaks open a second later.

"I'm home!" Eddie calls.

Rosie's head whips toward the foyer so quickly she nearly launches the polish across the living room. "Daddy!"

She abandons your half-finished manicure entirely and hops off the couch, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she sprints toward him. You hear him laugh before you even see him.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there."

You round the corner just in time to see Rosie wrap herself around one of his legs. Eddie looks exactly like he always does after work at the shop.

His curls are tied back in a loose bun that's already halfway fallen out; there's grease smeared across his cheekbone and forearms, his old band shirt is stained with oil, and his jeans look like they've survived some kind of explosion underneath a car.

He crouches down anyway. "Hi, sweetheart."

She immediately wrinkles her nose. "You're dirty."

He looks down at himself. "...Little bit."

"A lot bit."

"Maybe a lot bit."

She reaches up and pokes a streak of grease on his arm with one tiny finger. "Ew."

He gasps dramatically. "Excuse me? This is artisan-grade mechanic seasoning."

"It looks yucky."

"It probably is."

He scoops her up anyway, careful to keep his hands away from her clothes as much as possible before carrying her over to where you're standing. His tired eyes immediately soften the second they land on you.

"Hi, pretty girl."

You smile. "Hi yourself."

He leans down, stopping just short of kissing you. "I'm gross."

"I noticed."

"You sure?"

You grab the front of his shirt and kiss him anyway, grease and all. When you pull away, he looks almost offended. "I literally smell like motor oil."

"And?"

"And you kissed me."

"I happen to like motor oil."

He grins. "Liar."

Rosie wedges herself between the two of you. "You both smell funny."

You snort. "Thanks, Rosie."

"You're welcome."

Eddie presses a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'm gonna go shower before I contaminate the entire house."

She watches him head toward the hallway before suddenly remembering something incredibly important. "Wait!"

He turns. "Yeah?"

"I'm painting nails."

His eyebrows lift. "Are you now?"

She proudly holds up the tiny bottle. "And after Mommy's..."

She points directly at him. "...I'm doing yours."

He looks at you, and you very helpfully shrug. "I don't make the rules."

He presses a hand dramatically to his chest. "I've been selected?"

"You have."

He smiles at Rosie. "You got black?"

She blinks. "What?"

"Black nail polish."

She looks down into the little plastic basket of colors before digging through every bottle with increasing concern. "No..."

He sighs dramatically. "Of course."

She brightens. "I have sparkles."

He looks at you, and you bite your lip. He already knows he's doomed. "Well..."

He says carefully. "...dealer's choice."

Rosie gasps like she's just been entrusted with the nuclear launch codes. "Really?"

"Mhm."

She nods once with complete seriousness. "I know exactly what to do."

You exchange a look with Eddie. He mouths, Help. You smile sweetly. Absolutely not.

Twenty minutes later, he's freshly showered, hair still damp around his shoulders, wearing an old pair of gray sweatpants and one of your favorite oversized Sabbath shirts. He sits obediently on the living room floor while Rosie carefully arranges her entire nail polish collection around him. You curl up on the couch behind them, pretending to read while secretly watching everything.

Rosie picks up one bottle, sets it down. Another, sets it down. Then…she finds it. The brightest, loudest, most offensively glitter-infested neon purple imaginable. You physically have to cover your mouth.

Eddie eyes it suspiciously. "...That's the one?"

She nods enthusiastically. "It's princess purple."

"Oh."

"And sparkles."

"I see."

"And hearts."

"I can... also see that."

"And glitter."

"I definitely see that."

She beams. "It's pretty."

He looks at her, then at the bottle, then back at her. Without another word, he extends both hands. "Do your worst."

Rosie giggles so hard she almost falls over. For the next half hour, she paints with absolute artistic freedom. The polish ends up on his fingers, his knuckles. One suspicious streak somehow appears halfway up his thumb.

She pauses every few minutes to inspect her work before adding another layer. When she's finally done, she grabs both of his hands and holds them up proudly. "There."

Eddie examines them with complete sincerity. "...Rosie."

She waits expectantly. 

"I think these are the coolest nails I've ever had."

Her entire face lights up. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." He wiggles his fingers dramatically. "I've never looked more fabulous."

She immediately launches herself into his lap for a hug. He catches her without hesitation, wrapping one arm around her while being careful not to smudge his fresh manicure. You watch them from the couch, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

Rosie pulls back just enough to admire his nails again. "I made you pretty."

He gently tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "You always do, sweetheart."

She yawns a huge, sleepy little yawn, the kind that scrunches up her whole face. Eddie notices instantly.

"You getting tired?"

She shakes her head, then yawns again. "No."

"Mhm."

"I'm not." Another yawn.

He smiles knowingly. "Sure."

She curls herself against his chest anyway. Within maybe three minutes, she's completely asleep. Eddie looks over at you, careful not to move too much.

His hands are still decorated in violently purple glitter polish. His stepdaughter is slightly drooling on his shirt. His hair is still damp. He looks happier than you've ever seen another human being.

You quietly reach over and lace your fingers with his. He glances down, then back at you.

"So..." You whisper. "You gonna keep the nails for work tomorrow?"

He looks at his hands, looks at Rosie, looks back at you, and smiles. "Absolutely."

"You know the guys are gonna make fun of you."

He shrugs. "They can."

You raise an eyebrow. "They won't bother you?"

He looks down at the little girl asleep against his chest and gently kisses the top of her head.

"I'd let this kid paint my entire face green if it made her smile."

He glances back at his sparkly purple fingertips. "As far as I'm concerned..."

He wiggles them proudly. "...these are the coolest damn mechanic hands in Hawkins."

The house has long since gone quiet.

The dishes are done, the lights downstairs are off, and somewhere outside, rain taps softly against the bedroom window. The fan hums overhead, filling the room with the kind of gentle white noise that always seems to lull everyone to sleep.

Rosie had insisted on one extra story tonight. Then one extra hug. Then one extra glass of water. Then one extra kiss for Mr. Sprinkles. Then another for herself. If you give a mouse a cookie, or whatever they say. 

By the time you'd finally pulled her bedroom door closed, she'd already been halfway asleep.

Now you're curled beneath the blankets with your head resting on Eddie's chest, absentmindedly tracing lazy circles against his side while he combs his fingers through your hair. Neither of you is talking anymore, the exhaustion of the day settling comfortably over both of you.

His lips brush the top of your head. "You asleep?"

"Almost."

"Liar."

"Mhm."

"You drooled on my shirt."

"I absolutely did not."

"You absolutely did."

You smile into his chest. "I think you're making things up."

"I would never."

"You literally convinced Rosie last week there were raccoons that delivered pizza."

"There could be."

"There aren't."

"You don't know that."

You laugh quietly, the sound muffled against him. "I love you."

He doesn't even pause. "I love you more."

"You can't prove that."

"I can."

"How?"

"I made you grilled cheese with the crusts cut off yesterday."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You didn't have to."

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. You don't know how much time passes before a tiny knock sounds against the bedroom door. Three little taps, then another.

Then the knob slowly turns. The door opens only wide enough for a small face to peek through. Rosie's eyes are watery; her little bottom lip trembles when she spots the two of you.

"Mama?"

Your heart immediately softens. You sit up before she's even finished speaking. "What is it, bug?"

She clutches Mr. Sprinkles tighter against her chest. "I had a bad dream." Her voice is so quiet you almost don't hear it.

You hold your hand out. "C'mere."

She doesn't hesitate. Bare feet shuffle across the hardwood before she climbs onto the bed, crawling right between the two of you without so much as asking permission, as though she'd done it a hundred times before.

Maybe she has. You immediately pull the blankets over her little shoulders while Eddie scoots closer from the other side, making sure she's tucked safely between you.

Rosie simply curls into your side, one hand reaching across until it finds Eddie's sleeve. She hangs onto it tightly. You smooth her hair back from her forehead.

"Wanna tell us about it?" 

She shakes her head. "It was scary."

"I know."

"There was a loud noise."

You gently rub circles against her back. "But you're here now."

She nods once, then another sniffle. "You guys are here."

"We are."

"And we're not going anywhere."

She wiggles a little closer until she's practically glued to both of you at once. Eddie quietly reaches over and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"You know what's nice about bad dreams?"

She looks up at him with sleepy, curious eyes. "What?"

"They end."

She thinks about that. "They do?"

"They always do."

"And then you wake up."

She nods slowly. "I woke up."

"You did."

"And then I came here."

"You did."

"And now you're with us."

Rosie looks down at Mr. Sprinkles before whispering, "He got scared too."

Eddie leans over to inspect the stuffed dinosaur with complete seriousness. "He seems pretty brave to me."

"He was pretending."

"Oh."

"He didn't want me to be scared."

Eddie smiles softly. "I think he did a pretty good job."

Rosie considers that before giving the dinosaur a little kiss on the nose. After another quiet minute, she yawns. One of those enormous little yawns that seems far too big for someone so tiny.

You can't help smiling. "Tired?"

She immediately shakes her head, then yawns again. "No."

"Mhm."

"No."

She curls up even smaller anyway, one hand still tangled in your pajama sleeve now, the other resting against Eddie's arm.

You feel Eddie's hand find yours over the blankets, his fingers lacing through yours without a word. Rosie's eyes are already drifting closed. Just before she falls asleep, she mumbles something so quietly you almost miss it.

"I'm happy."

You glance across at Eddie, and he's already looking at her.

"What made you think of that, sweetheart?" he asks softly.

Her eyes never open. "I like when we're all together."

Your throat tightens instantly.

She nestles deeper beneath the blankets. "I like my home."

A few seconds later, she's asleep; completely, peacefully asleep.

You and Eddie don't move; you don't dare. He looks over at you in the darkness, and there's something in his expression that says everything words can't.

You reach over the little lump of blankets between you and rest your hand against his cheek. He turns just enough to press a kiss into your palm.

this shit actually made me ugly cry from pure content

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The reception hall glowed warmly beneath dozens of hanging lights, their golden reflections catching against wine glasses, polished silverware, and the scattered candles decorating each table.

Somewhere across the room, music and laughter blended together from the crowded dance floor while guests lingered over half-finished drinks and slices of wedding cake.

Eddie’s girlfriend had been invited to one of her close friend’s weddings in Indianapolis, and when the invitation included a plus one, asking Eddie had been an easy decision. It also gave her the perfect excuse to pick out his outfit for the occasion herself, knowing full well that no matter what she chose, he was going to look ridiculously attractive in it.

Seated beside his girlfriend at one of the round tables near the edge of the room, Eddie looked entirely out of place, yet extremely delicious at the same time. His black button-down was rolled to his forearms, exposing the tattoos winding beneath the fabric, while the top few buttons sat undone just enough to reveal the chain at his neck and the faint dusting of chest hair beneath. His hair was slightly messy in a way that somehow only made him look better, dark curls falling around his face as though he’d already run his hands through them a dozen times throughout the night. His beard was neatly trimmed, several silver rings glinting beneath the reception lights whenever he lifted his drink, and every time she caught a hint of his cologne, it was distracting enough to make her lose her train of thought.

One arm rested lazily across the back of her chair, his attention drifting between the dance floor and the story she was currently telling him, a small smile lingering at the corner of his mouth as he listened. He leaned in slightly when she paused, his fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of her neck as his thumb brushed slow, absent circles against her skin.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” he said, his voice raised just enough to carry over the music and conversation filling the reception hall. His eyes flicked over her face briefly before he tilted his head. “You gonna be alright while I’m gone?”

She laughed softly, unable to help herself.

“Yes, baby,” she assured him with an affectionate smile, reaching up to gently pat his chest. “I’ll be fine.”

He grinned, slow and easy, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second longer than necessary as though he couldn’t quite help himself.

“Alright,” he said, straightening from his chair and dragging a hand briefly through his beard. A moment later, he disappeared into the crowd, his broad frame weaving easily between tables and guests until she eventually lost sight of him. Bringing her glass to her lips, she frowned when she realized it was empty.

“Boo,” she muttered to herself. With a small sigh, she stood from her chair and made her way toward the venue’s bar, weaving through clusters of guests while pulling out her phone. Despite the pleasant buzz of alcohol lingering in her system, she managed to text Eddie one-handed without issue, letting him know she’d gone to the bar and to meet her there when he was done.

She set her empty glass on the bar and ordered another drink, something light and fruity enough that it barely tasted like alcohol. While she waited, she leaned forward onto her elbows, absently scrolling through her phone. A sudden squeeze to her shoulders made her jump.

“Jesus fuck, you scared me,” she laughed, instantly turning around and pulling Dana into a hug. Beaming back, Dana wrapped her arms around her in return. “I know, I know. I’ve been trying to make the rounds and talk to everybody, but Zach has been up my ass all night like we don’t have the rest of our lives together.”

She snorted, pulling back from the hug. Before she could respond, Dana’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you something.”

Immediately suspicious, she raised an eyebrow.

“Guess who I saw here,” Dana said. “Apparently Zach invited him.”

“Who?”

“Ryan.”

Her eyes widened in return. Before moving to Hawkins and meeting Eddie, she had dated Ryan back in high school — tall, skinny, black hair. They’d stayed together for about a year after graduation before eventually ending things on mutual terms, however he had been one of her more serious boyfriends before Eddie. Her face instantly scrunched. “Oh God.”

“I know,” Dana said dramatically. “The second I saw him, I said the exact same thing to Zach.”

That earned a laugh.

“But anyway,” Dana continued, her gaze drifting across the room before landing back on her with a grin, “I also saw the absolute piece of candy you brought with you.”

Dana raised her eyebrows before wiggling fingers with hers. “I just know that man treats you right.”

A giggle escaped her before she could stop it. “Oh, he does.”

Dana cackled and squeezed her hand one last time. “You better invite me to that wedding whenever it happens,” she said, pointing at her playfully. “I fully intend on being there.”

Laughing, she promised she’d keep that in mind.

“Good,” Dana replied with a satisfied nod before leaning in to kiss her cheeks. She took a step backward, already looking toward another cluster of guests across the room. “I should probably get back to making my rounds before Zach decides he misses me.”

With one final wave, Dana disappeared back into the crowd of guests.

Still smiling to herself, she turned back toward the bar and reached for the freshly made drink waiting for her. As her fingers curled around the glass, movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Her eyes lifted instinctively, and she found herself looking directly at Ryan, who had quietly walked over and taken a spot beside her at the bar.

His face was thinner now, his dark hair cut much shorter than she remembered, and the lanky frame he’d had in high school had filled out over the years. Time had softened some of his sharper features while adding others, faint lines appearing at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. For a second, she was struck by how familiar and unfamiliar he looked all at once.

“Hey, stranger,” he said, giving her a small smile. His voice hadn’t changed much. “Long time.”

She nodded slightly, offering him a polite one in return that came across a little more reserved than warm.

“Yup,” she replied, popping the ‘p’ as she lifted her drink toward her lips.

It wasn’t that they had ended on bad terms. Quite the opposite, actually. Their breakup had been mutual, and by the time it happened, they’d both known it was the right decision. Even so, standing at a wedding making small talk with an ex-boyfriend wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on spending her evening. There was nothing necessarily wrong with Ryan being there, but she couldn’t deny that the situation felt a little awkward, and she found herself wishing she could fast-forward through it entirely.

“You look good,” he said after a moment, the compliment delivered with an easy sincerity that caught her slightly off guard. There wasn’t anything flirtatious behind it. No lingering looks, no awkward undertones. It felt more like an observation than anything else, the kind of thing someone says when they’re genuinely happy to see another person doing well.

His gaze briefly flicked over her before returning to his own drink. “How’ve you been?”

She swallowed her sip before lowering the glass. “Great,” she answered honestly. “What about you?”

His fingers tapped lightly against his whiskey glass as he glanced out toward the dance floor, watching a few guests drift past before his attention settled back on her.

“Same old, mostly,” he said. “I moved back to Indy last year. Been teaching guitar lessons at a music shop downtown.”

She nodded politely, genuinely glad to hear he seemed to be doing well. As he took another sip of his drink, his gaze shifted past her for a moment, lingering somewhere in the crowd.

“I saw you came with somebody,” he said casually. “He looks a little intimidating.”

That earned a laugh from her. Honestly, she could see why someone who didn’t know Eddie might think that. Between the muscles, the beard, and the permanent resting expression that made him look like he was seconds away from starting a fight, he definitely gave off that impression.

“No,” she said with an amused shake of her head. “He’s a sweetheart.”

As the words left her mouth, her eyes instinctively drifted across the reception hall — they immediately found Eddie.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, one shoulder leaned casually against a nearby pillar. Even from across the reception hall, she could tell he had been watching her for at least a few moments already.

His arms were folded loosely across his chest, rings catching the warm glow of the overhead lights whenever his fingers shifted against his bicep. There was nothing outwardly hostile about his expression, but there was a clear curiosity there, his head tilted slightly as he watched the interaction unfold from a distance. The moment their eyes met, he held her gaze. A second later, one of his eyebrows lifted in a silent question, and despite herself, she felt warmth creep into her cheeks.

Oblivious to the fact that Eddie had been watching the entire exchange from across the room, Ryan let out a small chuckle before lifting his whiskey glass again.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he said with a shrug.

As the conversation continued, movement across the reception hall caught her attention once more. Eddie had pushed himself away from the pillar and was making his way through the crowd toward them. There was nothing rushed about his pace. Still, she knew him well enough to recognize the quiet determination behind it.

Guests drifted between them as he walked, forcing him to weave around tables and clusters of people, yet his attention remained fixed in her direction the entire time. His hands hung loosely at his sides, fingers flexing every now and then as he approached, making absolutely no attempt to disguise where he was headed.

The flutter in her chest only worsened when Eddie finally stepped up beside her.

“There he is,” she said, unable to stop the redness flooding her face as she glanced away from him and back toward Ryan. “Ryan, this is Eddie, my boyfriend.”

She gestured between them. “Eddie, this is Ryan. We knew each other back in high school.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ryan said with an easy smile, extending his hand. Eddie took it without hesitation.

“Eddie Munson,” he replied, his voice carrying that familiar roughness that always seemed to linger beneath the surface. The handshake was firm, his grip lingering for only a moment before he let go. When he stepped back, one arm settled naturally around her waist.

“How do you know the bride and groom?” he asked, though the look in his eyes suggested he was already well aware of exactly who Ryan was.

“Zach and I went to college together,” Ryan answered, taking another sip of his whiskey. His posture remained relaxed, his tone laid back, though she didn’t miss the brief glance he cast toward Eddie’s arm where it rested around her waist. Eddie’s hand shifted slightly against her side.

“How nice,” he replied, his thumb moving in slow, absent circles against her hip. His voice sounded light enough, conversational even, but there was a familiar glint in his eye she recognized almost instantly. “So you two go way back?”

The question made her turn her head toward him, her eyes narrowed slightly.

Most people would’ve missed it completely — Ryan probably would too — but she knew Eddie far too well. Beneath the natural smile and casual tone was the version of him that occasionally surfaced whenever he got a little too amused with himself. The same man who was endlessly kind and loyal also had the ability to become an absolute menace when the mood struck him.

Judging by the look on his face, that mood had definitely struck him.

“Yeah, we dated in high school.” The admission left Ryan’s mouth easily, carrying none of the significance it might have years ago. Still, she felt Eddie’s reaction. His hand paused briefly against her waist before resuming its slow movement, and when she glanced up at him, she caught the slight shift in his expression as he looked between her and Ryan.

“Did you now?” Eddie asked, his tone remaining frustratingly pleasant. “Well, that’s a fun little detail.”

She closed her eyes for half a second — there he was.

“So fun,” she interjected before either of them could continue down that road. Turning back toward Ryan, she offered him a polite smile and a quick nod. “It was nice seeing you again.”

Then she placed her free hand against Eddie’s chest and looked up at him pointedly. “Let’s go back to the table, yeah?”

His grin widened at her attempt to steer him away from the conversation, and although he allowed her to guide him without any real resistance, she could tell he was enjoying this far more than he should have been.

“What?” he asked, sounding entirely too innocent for someone who knew exactly what he was doing. “We just got here.” Leaning down slightly, he lowered his voice so only she could hear him.

“I thought we were having a nice little chat with Ryan-from-high-school.” His thumb continued brushing absent patterns against her side, and she could practically feel how amused he was with himself. “Shouldn’t I get to know the guy who came before me?”

She knew he was joking. There wasn’t any real hostility behind it, but there was just enough truth mixed into the teasing to make her want to disappear into the floor. If anything, the alcohol had made him a little more fearless, a little more likely to say whatever popped into his head without filtering it first.

Normally, she would’ve laughed. But something about hearing him make a joke out of it while standing there in the middle of the reception hall unexpectedly got under her skin. The entire situation was awkward enough already without him turning it into a bit.

“Okay, don’t be a dick,” she snapped before she could stop herself, the words coming out sharper than she’d intended.

The moment the words left her mouth, the amusement disappeared from Eddie’s face. Not completely, but enough.

She caught the shift in him, the way his expression faltered for a fraction of a second as though the comment had genuinely caught him off guard. Before he had a chance to respond, however, she was already turning back toward Ryan.

“Sorry, again,” she said quickly before excusing herself.

Without waiting for either man to say much else, she picked up her drink and started back toward their table, moving through the crowd of wedding guests. She could hear Eddie following behind her a few seconds later, but she didn’t slow down, her cheeks still warm as she replayed the exchange in her head.

By the time he reached their table, she was already seated, placing her glass on the table in front of her. Eddie slid into the chair beside her without saying anything right away. The usual confidence he’d carried at the bar had noticeably faded, replaced by something far more cautious as he settled into his seat.

For a few moments, he simply watched her. The slight furrow between her brows, the way she wouldn’t quite look at him, the lingering tension in her shoulders. Finally, he leaned a little closer.

“Hey,” he said quietly, nudging her knee beneath the table with his own. When she glanced over, his expression had softened considerably. “I was joking.”

There wasn’t a trace of teasing left in his voice now. “Didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him quickly, but Eddie shook his head.

Before she could protest, he reached down and hooked a hand around the seat of her chair, dragging it closer to his in one smooth motion. The legs scraped softly against the floor as the gap between them disappeared. “No,” he said gently. “It’s not.”

Turning toward her, he leaned in until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She turned her head toward him then, her eyes meeting his. The look he gave her made something soften in her chest despite herself. Him and those stupid big brown eyes — he knew exactly what he was doing when he looked at her like that. Without breaking eye contact, Eddie dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss against her bare shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby,” she assured him again, reaching up to brush her fingers lightly through the hair near his temple.

And she meant it. The more she sat with it, the more she realized it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Eddie had gotten a little cocky, she’d gotten a little irritated, and now they were already making up five minutes later. Besides, it was admittedly difficult to stay annoyed when he was looking at her like that.

“I just hope you know I don’t spend time thinking about any ‘guy before you,’” she said, deliberately quoting his earlier words. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Honestly,” she continued, shaking her head, “it’s like you forget how obsessed I am with you.” Her gaze flicked meaningfully over him, from the rolled sleeves to the open collar of his shirt. “Be serious.”

The reaction was immediate. The playful edge he’d been carrying since the bar seemed to falter as he looked at her, and despite herself, she felt a small sense of satisfaction. For all of Eddie’s confidence and occasional cockiness, she had always possessed the ability to completely derail it whenever she wanted to. A few words, a certain look, and suddenly all of that bravado disappeared, his attention narrowing entirely onto her.

Eddie blinked at her, visibly caught off guard by the comment. For a moment, he just stared.

Then he straightened slightly and dragged a hand through his beard, his gaze dropping away from hers as he released a slow breath through his nose. The sight alone nearly made her smile.

As the silence settled between them, the music throughout the reception hall changed. The upbeat song playing over the speakers faded out, replaced by something slower, bluesier. The low guitar immediately caught Eddie’s attention, and she watched the shift happen in real time as his gaze drifted toward the dance floor.

Without saying anything, he pushed himself out of his chair. When she looked up at him, he was already standing beside her with one hand extended.

Her eyes dropped for a moment to his hand before lifting back to his face. The warm lighting overhead seemed unfairly flattering, catching against the dark curls falling around his face, the silver rings on his fingers, and the open collar of the shirt she’d picked out for him. The sight of him standing there, broad shoulders relaxed, chest rising and falling steadily as he looked down at her, made it difficult to remember why she’d been annoyed in the first place.

“C’mon, angel,” he murmured, his voice low and warm enough to send a shiver down her spine. He gave his hand a small encouraging wiggle. “Dance with me.”

She paused for a moment, running her tongue slowly over her teeth as she looked up at him. Then she slipped her hand into his, and the second she did, Eddie’s fingers closed around hers securely, his thumb brushing against her skin. Something about the simple gesture felt oddly intimate after everything that had happened over the last few minutes.

Without letting go, he guided her toward the dance floor, weaving them through clusters of guests and around occupied tables. The music grew louder the closer they got, the slow bluesy melody settling comfortably around them as other couples swayed beneath the hanging lights. Rather than moving toward the crowded center, Eddie led her off to the side where there was a little more room.

Only once they stopped did he finally turn toward her. Their joined hands remained between them for all of two seconds before he used them to gently pull her closer, closing the distance until barely any space remained. His eyes settled on hers, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her stomach flutter, his attention completely fixed on her. Her arms lifted to loosely wrap around his neck while Eddie rested his hands on her sides.

The warmth of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of her dress as one of his hands drifted to the small of her back, drawing her a little closer. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers, his breath brushing softly across her lips.

“You really are obsessed with me, huh?” he teased.

Her eyes rolled playfully. “Duh.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His hand slipped lower in one smooth motion, fingers curling over the curve of her ass as he pressed her firmly against him. Burying his face against her neck, he nuzzled into her skin, the scrape of his beard making her laugh softly. “Good.”

“Good?” She snorted. His other hand joined the first, squeezing firmly enough to make her jump slightly. The reaction made him smirk.

Lifting his head from her neck, he looked down at her, eyes warm with amusement as he kept her tucked against him. She studied him for a moment before reaching up to give his beard a gentle tug.

“You know,” she said casually, as though she were commenting on the weather, “if you wanted to drag me into that bathroom right now, I probably wouldn’t stop you.”

His eyes darkened at once, his eyes shifting briefly toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms before returning to hers.

“Sure about that?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting. There was no teasing in his voice now. “Because I’m not gonna be gentle with you if you get me in there.”

“I think I know exactly what I’m getting myself into,” she replied surely, smoothing the fabric of his shirt over his chest.

Without hesitation, Eddie caught her wrist and guided her toward the hallway, his pace noticeably quicker now as he navigated through the crowd. The music faded behind them with each step until they finally slipped out of the reception hall.

The moment the bathroom door shut behind them, the playful tension that had been building all evening seemed to snap.

Eddie crowded into her space immediately, backing her against the door as he looked down at her. For a second neither of them spoke, and Eddie reached behind her to lock the door without breaking eye contact. They simply stared at each other, breaths uneven, the noise of the wedding reduced to a distant hum beyond the walls.

Then his hands slid to her thighs and he lifted her effortlessly against him, drawing a surprised laugh from her as her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Only after a moment did he carry her across the small bathroom, setting her onto the edge of the sink. The second he stepped between her knees, his hands moved to the fabric of her dress, shoving it higher along her thighs while she reached for him in return. The second she managed work open the button of his slacks, Eddie took over with a low sound of impatience, shoving them down just enough to release himself.

“Happy now?” she teased breathlessly.

“Not even close.” The answer barely left him before his hands slid beneath the backs of her knees. He adjusted her legs, drawing a surprised laugh from her as he hiked them at his sides. A second later, her back met the mirror, the cool glass a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him.

“Jesus, Eddie–”

“Thought you said you knew what you were getting into.”

The smugness in his voice lasted all of two seconds before it dissolved into a groan, his forehead briefly dropping against hers. She tangled her fingers into his hair and pulled him down into a kiss, cutting off whatever smart comment he had planned next. He kissed her back, one hand tightening against her leg as the other braced against the counter beside her. He wasted no time setting a relentless pace, his thrusts deep and unforgiving against the bathroom sink.

“I do,” she mumbled against his lips, “and I’m loving it.”

He laughed low in his throat, pressing messy kisses along her jawline.

“You feel so good around me, baby,” he panted. His grip dug into the soft flesh of her thigh as a poorly-restrained moan left her mouth. Every movement sent sparks racing up her spine whenever she tried to pull him closer. Between ragged breaths and muffled moans, she could feel his teeth scraping against her neck, his beard scratching against her skin as his hips snapped forward again and again.

“You are unbelievable,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” His teeth brushed her skin as he grinned. “You seem pretty into it.”

Reaching up, Eddie grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilting her head back just enough for him to catch her lips again, his kiss messy and desperate as he chased his release with ruthless precision. 

“Come.” The word left him in a growl against her lips, and she whimpered in response. When she finally clenched around him with a broken moan, he followed immediately, burying himself deep as he spilled inside her with a shuddering groan. 

For several seconds, neither of them moved, their breaths uneven as he held her against the mirror, his forehead resting against hers. Then, slowly, he leaned back enough to meet her eyes, his expression shifting into a familiar smug grin as he brushed his thumb brushed lightly across her lower lip.

“Damn. We should go to weddings more often,” he remarked, looking entirely too pleased with himself. She snorted, and the sound pulled a smile from him. He leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, stepping back to adjust himself and his slacks before reaching for her hands.

“C’mere.” Carefully helping her down from the sink, Eddie smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and adjusted the fabric back into place. He gave her a quick once-over before his attention returned to her face, his hands coming to rest lightly on her sides.

“Beautiful as ever,” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. She smiled and reached up to smooth a wrinkle from the front of his shirt, her palm brushing briefly across his chest.