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[pilferingapples]

Les Miserables Daily: 5.2.4, Details Ignored

Today in the chronological read-through of Les Miserables,we’re finishing up with Bruneseau’s adventures in 1805!  Be sure to join us for the next chapter in 2032, when we’ll meet Bishop Myriel!

The visit took place. It was a formidable campaign; a nocturnal battle against pestilence and suffocation. It was, at the same time, a voyage of discovery. One of the survivors of this expedition, an intelligent workingman, who was very young at the time, related curious details with regard to it, several years ago, which Bruneseau thought himself obliged to omit in his report to the prefect of police, as unworthy of official style. The processes of disinfection were, at that epoch, extremely rudimentary. Hardly had Bruneseau crossed the first articulations of that subterranean network, when eight laborers out of the twenty refused to go any further. The operation was complicated; the visit entailed the necessity of cleaning; hence it was necessary to cleanse and at the same time, to proceed; to note the entrances of water, to count the gratings and the vents, to lay out in detail the branches, to indicate the currents at the point where they parted, to define the respective bounds of the divers basins, to sound the small sewers grafted on the principal sewer, to measure the height under the key-stone of each drain, and the width, at the spring of the vaults as well as at the bottom, in order to determine the arrangements with regard to the level of each water-entrance, either of the bottom of the arch, or on the soil of the street. They advanced with toil. The lanterns pined away in the foul atmosphere. From time to time, a fainting sewerman was carried out. At certain points, there were precipices. The soil had given away, the pavement had crumbled, the sewer had changed into a bottomless well; they found nothing solid; a man disappeared suddenly; they had great difficulty in getting him out again. On the advice of Fourcroy, they lighted large cages filled with tow steeped in resin, from time to time, in spots which had been sufficiently disinfected. In some places, the wall was covered with misshapen fungi,--one would have said tumors; the very stone seemed diseased within this unbreathable atmosphere.

Bruneseau, in his exploration, proceeded down hill. At the point of separation of the two water-conduits of the Grand-Hurleur, he deciphered upon a projecting stone the date of 1550; this stone indicated the limits where Philibert Delorme, charged by Henri II. with visiting the subterranean drains of Paris, had halted. This stone was the mark of the sixteenth century on the sewer; Bruneseau found the handiwork of the seventeenth century once more in the Ponceau drain of the old Rue Vielle-du-Temple, vaulted between 1600 and 1650; and the handiwork of the eighteenth in the western section of the collecting canal, walled and vaulted in 1740. These two vaults, especially the less ancient, that of 1740, were more cracked and decrepit than the masonry of the belt sewer, which dated from 1412, an epoch when the brook of fresh water of Menilmontant was elevated to the dignity of the Grand Sewer of Paris, an advancement analogous to that of a peasant who should become first valet de chambre to the King; something like Gros-Jean transformed into Lebel.

Here and there, particularly beneath the Court-House, they thought they recognized the hollows of ancient dungeons, excavated in the very sewer itself. Hideous in-pace. An iron neck-collar was hanging in one of these cells. They walled them all up. Some of their finds were singular; among others, the skeleton of an ourang-outan, who had disappeared from the Jardin des Plantes in 1800, a disappearance probably connected with the famous and indisputable apparition of the devil in the Rue des Bernardins, in the last year of the eighteenth century. The poor devil had ended by drowning himself in the sewer.

Beneath this long, arched drain which terminated at the Arche-Marion, a perfectly preserved rag-picker's basket excited the admiration of all connoisseurs. Everywhere, the mire, which the sewermen came to handle with intrepidity, abounded in precious objects, jewels of gold and silver, precious stones, coins. If a giant had filtered this cesspool, he would have had the riches of centuries in his lair. At the point where the two branches of the Rue du Temple and of the Rue Sainte-Avoye separate, they picked up a singular Huguenot medal in copper, bearing on one side the pig hooded with a cardinal's hat, and on the other, a wolf with a tiara on his head.

The most surprising rencounter was at the entrance to the Grand Sewer. This entrance had formerly been closed by a grating of which nothing but the hinges remained. From one of these hinges hung a dirty and shapeless rag which, arrested there in its passage, no doubt, had floated there in the darkness and finished its process of being torn apart. Bruneseau held his lantern close to this rag and examined it. It was of very fine batiste, and in one of the corners, less frayed than the rest, they made out a heraldic coronet and embroidered above these seven letters: LAVBESP. The crown was the coronet of a Marquis, and the seven letters signified Laubespine. They recognized the fact, that what they had before their eyes was a morsel of the shroud of Marat. Marat in his youth had had amorous intrigues. This was when he was a member of the household of the Comte d'Artois, in the capacity of physician to the Stables. From these love affairs, historically proved, with a great lady, he had retained this sheet. As a waif or a souvenir. At his death, as this was the only linen of any fineness which he had in his house, they buried him in it. Some old women had shrouded him for the tomb in that swaddling-band in which the tragic Friend of the people had enjoyed voluptuousness. Bruneseau passed on. They left that rag where it hung; they did not put the finishing touch to it. Did this arise from scorn or from respect? Marat deserved both. And then, destiny was there sufficiently stamped to make them hesitate to touch it. Besides, the things of the sepulchre must be left in the spot which they select. In short, the relic was a strange one. A Marquise had slept in it; Marat had rotted in it; it had traversed the Pantheon to end with the rats of the sewer. This chamber rag, of which Watteau would formerly have joyfully sketched every fold, had ended in becoming worthy of the fixed gaze of Dante.

The whole visit to the subterranean stream of filth of Paris lasted seven years, from 1805 to 1812. As he proceeded, Bruneseau drew, directed, and completed considerable works; in 1808 he lowered the arch of the Ponceau, and, everywhere creating new lines, he pushed the sewer, in 1809, under the Rue Saint-Denis as far as the fountain of the Innocents; in 1810, under the Rue Froidmanteau and under the Salpetriere; in 1811 under the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Peres, under the Rue du Mail, under the Rue de l'Echarpe, under the Place Royale; in 1812, under the Rue de la Paix, and under the Chaussee d'Antin. At the same time, he had the whole net-work disinfected and rendered healthful. In the second year of his work, Bruneseau engaged the assistance of his son-in-law Nargaud.

It was thus that, at the beginning of the century, ancient society cleansed its double bottom, and performed the toilet of its sewer. There was that much clean, at all events.

Tortuous, cracked, unpaved, full of fissures, intersected by gullies, jolted by eccentric elbows, mounting and descending illogically, fetid, wild, fierce, submerged in obscurity, with cicatrices on its pavements and scars on its walls, terrible,--such was, retrospectively viewed, the antique sewer of Paris. Ramifications in every direction, crossings, of trenches, branches, goose-feet, stars, as in military mines, coecum, blind alleys, vaults lined with saltpetre, pestiferous pools, scabby sweats, on the walls, drops dripping from the ceilings, darkness; nothing could equal the horror of this old, waste crypt, the digestive apparatus of Babylon, a cavern, ditch, gulf pierced with streets, a titanic mole-burrow, where the mind seems to behold that enormous blind mole, the past, prowling through the shadows, in the filth which has been splendor.

This, we repeat, was the sewer of the past.

#LM 5.2.4 #The Impossible Readalong #AM I JOKING?? JOIN US IN TEN YEARS TO FIND OUT #LM Chrono #Bruneseau #queueue #long post

[ms-demeanor]

This is regarding your post involving making friends. I have had a spectacular amount of failures in meetup groups, particularly involving men from multiple meetup groups trying to take advantage of me or using me. In addition to that, the other members of the groups tend are often quite rude. Also, many meetups in my area tend to fall into one of the following categories: professional seminar, mommy & me, or the other members are double my age or older. What would you advise?

Volunteering - find something you care about and see if there is a local volunteer opportunity; you might want to look into food banks or mutual aid projects.

Crafting - this will likely be an older crew, but making friends with older people is cool honestly.

Sports - see if there's a kickball league or some other variety of low-key sport that you can sign up for.

Get super into the local music scene. Go to bar shows, go to basement shows, go to backyard shows. If you go to places where they have local music and hang out a bunch you will get to know local music people eventually, which includes both people in bands and people interested in bands.

Become a regular at your local library. Go once a week at the same time of day and you'll start to get to know people.

Become a regular at something else local. If you go to the same coffee shop three times a week for a few months and are polite to the employees you will probably eventually have friends among the people there; even if you do this by walking around the neighborhood park at the same time of day you will start getting to know the park regulars people love habits and if you can become a chill part of their daily scenery they will eventually want to investigate further.

Start your own club of some kind. Maybe start a book club for a particular genre of book that you like, or start a movie group where you meet up to see a movie together twice a month. You can post things like this on meetup websites or facebook, but you can also make fliers to put up in places that you think people you might find interesting would hang out.

Join a gym and go regularly. Sometimes a random person you see all the time in a gym can go from being a reliable on-the-spot spotter to a good friend.

Take a class locally. See if your town has a community center that offers cooking classes or computer classes or any kind of classes even things you already know. I keep making jokes about improv but improv people are great; see if you can take an impov class. See if your local music store offers music classes (I made weirdly good friends with the folks at the music store where I took vocal lessons; this was a pleasant surprise!)

When you try any of these places make friendly smalltalk with the people you encounter and express interest in them. If you are speaking to employees, make sure you're giving them lots of conversational outs because attempting to befriend people who are working can feel like you're cornering them, I'd actually say don't try to befriend the employees at a business unless you go there and they attempt to befriend you, however as someone who worked in coffee shops for ten years if someone randomly started showing up for six hours a week I would almost certainly have gotten to a friendly shoot-the-shit level with them within a month; if you go out among people who are sociable and are around them enough sometimes the sociable people go "aha! new friend sighted!" and do the hard work for you, but you do have to go to places to let yourself be found by the sociable ones.)

I do not, generally speaking, use meetup groups as a generic thing as much as I look into what groups exist locally that I am interested in. If a local game store is running a weekly Magic tournament, that's a better place to meet people in my opinion than a one-time bowling event.

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Sleepover with Drunk Nanami

Nanami crashes on your couch after a drunken meeting on a rare night out.

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY. fem! Reader, Soft Nanami, drunk Nanami, slow burn (sorta? Does nine hours count?), discussions of consent, Gojo is in it also lol.

Word count: 13.9k, Ngl this one kind of got away from me 🤭🫣. Don’t have sex with drunk people! let the tension build until that consent is sober and enthusiastic.

This was inspired by the song Get Up by Ciara, and my being very horny. I haven’t written fanfic in almost ten years, so here’s what I have for you. This was so fun to write, I really hope y’all enjoy it. I am so obsessed with this man its actually insane.

Clubs were not his preferred way to “cut loose”. He hated the claustrophobic proximity, the overpriced drinks, the flagrants displays of affection, most of all the inability to hold a conversation. Resounding bass and artificial light blaring against his skull was sure to culminate in tomorrow’s headache. Nanami couldn't be bothered to entertain the idea of joining his coworkers to dance and drink as they so often invited him. He much preferred to keep his own company, drinking at home, indulging in the occasional (and strictly, personally regulated) cigarette, and reading in the bath. Although the last two weeks he found himself working around the clock. It seemed that as soon as he crossed his own home’s threshold he was back to work in some capacity or other. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to turn his brain off completely in between shifts. He hated working, period, let alone working outside of his normal hours, but the work needed to be done, and as the days trudged forward, his work life balance compounded into a singularity designed specifically to siphon any free time he could find.

But that had ended this afternoon, completing a mission’s adjoining paperwork and being released for a three day leave in between assignments. Returning to his small office, he begins to retrieve his coat and pack his bag to depart and return home to finally relax. Already feeling his shoulders unknot themselves, Nanami allowed a blissful sigh to leave his lips. No sooner had he begun to draw in the following breath than had the rapping of angular knuckles against his door frame rung in his ears. Raising his eyes, Kento sees long time (reluctant) friend and daily annoyance, Satoru Gojo, strolling casually inside and plopping across the desk from him.

“So what time should I pick you up?” Although Kento could not see his eyes behind the famous black blindfold hiding them, the blase demeanor and entitlement dripping from his question was apparent.

Already feeling the vein in his head begin to pulse, Nanami sighed out, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come out with us tonight. You’re off the ne t few days. I’m sure even you can recover from one night out in that time. Everyone is goin, Suguru, Shoko, yours truly…even Ijichi said he would come,” Gojo allows his smile to lure in the other man, “So you have to come.”

A familiar feeling rose the skin on the back of his neck as Kento heard his familiar train of thought, Absolutely not. I’m exhausted. I have to decline. Don’t wait up for me, but before the reluctance to break his own routine won over, his shoulders softened, “Okay.”

Gojo snapped to attention, his planned seduction now moot in the face of Nanami’s quick acceptance. He hadn't said yes to going out in two months, and the last time he had joined the group, he left less than an hour in claiming a headache and calling a cab.

“For real?” Gojo couldn't help himself, he was waiting for this to be a joke.

“Yes, 9:00 you’ll pick me up. We’ll go out. I could use the break. Thank you for the invitation.”

Gojo was beside himself, feeling his lips stretch from ear to ear, he rose to his feet and began to head to the door. He had to limit the time for Nanami to come to his senses, fearing this may all be some bought of madness from the usually grumpy man.

“See you then, wear something I like.”

Idiot always had to have the last word. Nanami lowered himself into his desk chair, taken aback by his own enthusiasm, a small smile creeping across his lips. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he couldn't say he was upset by it, it had been a long time since he had tried to meet his friends like this. He wasn't social by nature, and he was grateful to have people who understood that, allowing him his space but still continuing to include him in their extroverted fun. As much as Gojo’s refusal to allow him peace took its toll, Nanami was pleased to have someone so insistent on pushing his social limits. Although he would never tell him that.

These are the circumstances that lead Nanami to drinking as much as he had, to loosening his tie eventually to the point of hanging on either shoulder, to laying his jacket along the barstool of the hightop table he and his friends occupied. Dancing, actually dancing inside of the group of people gyrating together on the club’s designated dance floor. Eyes closed, hair sticking to his forehead, Kento felt the weight of fall away and the warm embrace of intoxication take over.

Gojo laughed over his dark sunglasses, nudging Geto’s elbow with his own before tipping his head to their large, very uncharacteristically drunk friend. They watched in shared admiration, laughing to each other, remembering fondly the stiff demeanor their friend had always carried. Since they’d known him they had seen him get drunk countless times, but drunk enough to dance? Only a handful. Drunk enough to have undone his top three buttons and reveal a growing flush down his neck and shoulders, maybe twice.

“He really needed this,” Geto praised Gojo lightly, it was him who always insisted on inviting out Nanami once again, despite the likely improbability of it happening.

Gojo smiled warmly before laughing again, this time to himself, he didn't want to reveal how easy it really was. How little he had had to push to get him out, he let the praise wash over him as he admired the usually stuffy man’s catharsis. Shoko returned then from the bar, two shots for herself and one for Ijichi who followed closely behind her, already starting to stumble himself.

That’s when Nanami saw you. Finally opening his eyes, pupils adjusting to the dim light, you appeared to him like a vision. And a vision you were, long legs wrapped in a skirt, a top lightly grazing the hemline at your waist, arms full and strong, hair styled specifically showcasing care and effort as well as routine. Engaged in conversation with a friend of yours, both laughing and allowing the atmosphere to relax you, Kento didn't realize his body had stopped dancing as he now stood dumbly in the center of the dancefloor. With soft pushes and thoughtless instinctual movement, he moved to the outskirts of the dancefloor, although still within sight of you. His breath caught in his chest, his hands ran cold, becoming clammy quickly as he watched you share a shot with your friend, head tipping back and revealing the full column of your neck to him. He felt his face flush further than the alcohol could.

Soon enough his back found the table that Shoko currently occupied, digging in her discarded coat’s pocket for her lighter, cigarette hanging loosely between her lips. Cooly placing her hand atop a few rattled glasses knocked around by his collision, she inquired as to Nanami’s dreamy state, “something got your attention?” her laugh broke through his haze just as she followed his eyeline to you.

“She’s pretty, you know her?” she was finally able to fish her lighter from the correct pocket.

Nanmi shook his head, still not able to tear his gaze away,” do you?”

“Never seen her before.” She observed the dumbstruck look in Nanami’s eyes weighing whether her input was more prescient than her desire for a smoke break, “You should try to talk to her. Who knows when we’ll get you out again. Make the most of it.”

With that she headed back towards the smoker’s patio, leaving Nanami with her words bouncing between his ears. When was the last time he had flirted with someone? When was the last time he had been on an actual date? When was the last time he had gotten to take someone home? When was the last time he had shared a bed with someone? When was the last time someone else had made him cum, not just himself between disgruntled days and nights working too much with little output? He had a break, he had come out, hadn't he? As he had gotten ready tonight he chastised his own mind for indulging in fantasies of meeting someone, But he didn't think he would find someone so ... .magnetic.

He wasn't even sure how long it had been since Shoko had gone outside, Kento snapped back to himself when he saw you set your drink down- nearly finished- and head into the throng of dancing bodies. His body moves before he can consciously decide how best to approach you; feet escorting him to the dance floor, hips following the beat and loosening the rest of him. His hands moved upward around his shoulders imitating a boxer’s stance, the alcohol clearly influencing his dancing style. Pressing forward he found himself just to your left. It was as though you had your own kinespheric bubble surrounding you, people danced near you but not on you. He felt invited in by this space, as though you had saved it just for him. He watched your body move, circling your hips and allowing your neck to follow the melody freely, your arms raising above your head as your eyes fluttered between completely closed and mostly closed. Your lips were parted beautifully, lip gloss catching the light so beautifully.

Maybe it was just chapstick, or it was lipstick, he had no idea, but just seeing the glint along your bottom lip made his mouth water for your kiss.

Would you use your tongue right away, or would he need to draw it out of you with his? Would you want him to guide you, or did you want to lead him yourself? He found his heart quickening at ever new possibility. When you finally allowed your eyes to open, they found him almost instantly. Locking eyes with you finally, Kento thought his skin was going to burst. Heart quickened, hand clammy, breath quick he searched for any reciprocation in your own eyes.

So when your eyes crinkle, following the line of your smile, so clearly directed right at him and only him, Kento can't resist but bring his hands to the sides of your hips.

The blonde man had been watching you since you got here. You noticed, Sophie noticed. As soon as you left the bar and staked your claim on an open hightop bordering the crowded but lively dance floor, she had jutted her chin toward him on the other side of the floor.

“Got one already.” she said impressed with your efficiency.

You turned to briefly meet his gaze, in just a second his gaze was so intense you could tell his eyes were honey brown and they were trained on you and only you, “oh come on. I’m sure he’s just checking everyone out.” you dismissed, still feeling the hot eyes on the back of your neck.

“He’s still looking at you,” Sophie marveled, “still looking…still…wow I don't think hes even trying to hide it.”

You knew. You could feel it, your heart raced. You had just barely looked at him but you had seen enough to see how attractive he was. A tall, broad frame, well cultivated outfit, neat, well styled hair, confidence and stability oozing from every pore. So clearly unabashedly interested. God, he was your type. Before you knew it most of your drink was drained, the nerves of being observed having made you suddenly parched. The liquid confidence settling in your system motivated you to pull Sophie to dance. You two found an open bubble in the sea of bodies and allowed yourself to release your lingering thoughts of the watcher.

That is, until you open your eyes once more, finding a pair of honey brown eyes begging for yours. It was him. He was less than two feet from you, he had sought you out. You couldn't help yourself, his interest and obvious enthusiasm brought a curl to your lips. Your smile locking him into a stare, you didn't flinch when you felt large, strong hands on your hips. It felt right, looking into his eyes the idea of not feeling him touch you felt preposterous. Your hips still followed the music, his soon joining their routine. His hands, once brazen, now stayed still and solid against your hips, moving with you, but never straying from their position. Emboldened by his sudden demure approach,wanting to reciprocate with just as much interested you turned, facing your back to him and pressing the curve of your ass against his hips, you thought you hear a soft groan exit his mouth. Once you had turned away from him, a bit of tension is relieved. You feel braver not looking him directly in the eye anymore. You grip onto one of his hands and trail it up your body, leaving the other gripping your hip harder and harder. Soon your back was fully against his chest, the music carried your pelvis, joined against his, everything else fell away as you guided his right hand across your body, side, hips, stomach and ass. His body felt so solid against yours, it was so solid against yours. He was an imposing figure, six foot or more, strong and cultivated build demonstrating both his personal strength and his own discipline. How you could have not noticed him here before was beyond you.

Nanami was hypnotized. From the moment you had looked him in the eye, he was hooked. Now that your body was flush against his, ass grinding into the front of his slacks, he couldn't think about anything else. He breathed hot against your ear as your fingers curled around his, sliding his fingers up from your hip to your stomach. It was so intimate, your leading his hand along your body, showing him exactly where you wanted his touch. You had your head cocked to the left, opening the side of your neck to him and moving your hair just under his nose, the smell of your shampoo was thrilling, he longed to run his fingers through your hair, to ruin your styling and pull. He wondered if you would let him brush it for you, wash it for you. He could learn exactly how you liked your routine, learn to style, learn to braid, anything to keep this smell close to him.

Behind his eyelids he wondered about your body, how your breasts would look, how your skin would flush through excitement or exertion, how wet you would get, how you would taste. He wondered, too, about your kiss, again thinking about how much tongue you would use, and if you would want to be in charge or him. A soft moan escaped his lips as he thought of your tongue sliding against his, directly against the shell of your ear. As if cued you spun around again, your leg slotted between his, allowing you both to move as one, grinding unashamed as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You can touch me yourself you know,” You could barely hear the music but Nanami knew exactly what you had said, “Or do you just like being told what to do.”

Your flirting sent a shock directly down his body, feeling his cock swell against the inside of his slacks, he slid his hands up the curves and folds of your back, your skin was so soft, he saw your lips part as he touched you. You were so reactive, he couldn't hear the caught breaths of the soft moans over the club’s speakers, but he watched as your eyes fluttered and your knees pulled tighter around him. One hand traveled down to the side of your leg, brushing down the side of your hip and ass to grip your thigh. The front strands of his hair had loosened and now hung freely in his face, a dark blush settled across his freckled nose and cheeks, one of your hands moved down his shoulder and onto his chest, he wished he had been more reckless and undone a few more buttons for you, he longed to have your fingers on his skin. But for now they held the collar of his shirt in their grasp, he longed for your eyes again, and as if you had read his find they met his own. He prayed you couldn't feel the way the eye contact had made his dick twitch, the blush deepening at the shame of being so crass in his attraction to you. Pulling him somehow even closer, he could feel your breath on his neck, he was panting a bit from the exertion of dance and the intense sexual tension. The song was beginning to end, and the DJ was already beginning to blend it with the introduction of the next song.

Seizing his opportunity, Nanami finally spoke his first words to you, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You nodded, smiling at him, he wanted to make you smile again and again, the warmth of your gazing making the stuffy club feel icy by comparison.

“Thank you!”, you moved a hand down his arm to join your hands together. Guiding him over to the bar. Your hand in his felt electric, you both could feel it. His large, work roughened palm against your own. They had fit together so naturally.

As you made your way over to the bar the music became less and less overwhelming, the pressing of bodies became less insistent. You turned your head to find Sophie, chatting to a few friends she had planned to run into, she caught your eye before giving you a knowing look and a thumbs up. You smiled and winked at her before turning back to the man behind you. You caught him at the end of turning his head from what looked to be a group of his own friends. All of whom were looking at the pair of you. One, particularly tall man with dark glasses was giving an encouraging thumbs up mirroring Sophie’s. You caught yourself wondering if your friends would get along, if he would get along with your friends, if you would get along with his. You didn't even know this man's name, you had barely spoken to him, and here you were ready to merge friend groups and make brunch plans. What the hell was going on tonight?

Finally reaching the bar right as two seats opened up, you both sat, giving your exhausted legs much needed refuge. The air between you two suddenly became thick, without the immediacy of movement you found yourself suddenly worried about how to engage him again in the heat you had just had.

“What do you like to drink?”, he started right as you offered a question of your own,

“So what’s your name..”

You both laughed for a second, the acknowledgement of shared nerves taking a little pressure off. His smile was reserved, seemingly unpracticed. But his eyes betrayed his warmth, you could see.

“Kento Nanami,” He answered your question first, fighting the urge to hold out his hand for a chaste and professional handshake. He lifted his eyebrows to signify it being your turn to answer, you told him your name, and his smile returned again, “That's a beautiful name.” he repeated it back to you, ensuring his pronunciation was correct, when in actuality he could have rolled your name in his mouth a thousand times and never tired of the taste.

“I’d love a gin and tonic,” You offered, answering his question, “Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Drinking, he was drinking. Suddenly he was aware of how much he had been drinking. Skin hot and red, probably sweating all over you, stinking of booze. He felt the embarrassment move throughout his body as he replayed his invitation to buy you a drink. Were you just being nice to him? Wanting to find a polite way to get away from him and return to your friend? He had been so casual, so unhindered.

God, he was an idiot

“Sorry to take you away from your friends, I understand if you want to go back.”He wanted to offer you an out, feeling himself try to straighten up and will the drunkenness out of him before he embarrassed you or himself further. But to his surprise, you cocked your head to the side, eyes narrowing to assess his change in demeanor. You could see right through him.

“Don’t get shy on me now, the nights just starting,” you offered a new, slyer smile, “isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, the bartender finally rounded the bar top to take your orders. Nanami ordered your drink as well as one of his own, you added on the desire for some ice water. Once the drinks were down set, you offered him a little cheers, tapping your glass against his before sipping. The drink was cool and refreshing, the perfect remedy for the heat rising in your neck and face.

He was so handsome, from his carved cheekbones speckled with freckles, you wondered if they were anywhere further down his collar. His bottom lip was full and plump, parted slightly as he tasted his drink, with his face profile to yours you could see a small pink circle on the side of his nose.

“Do you wear glasses?”, you asked.

Nanami’s brows twitched slightly together, “I do.”

“You have those little impressions on your nose. From the bridge of your glasses.” You answer, without him having asked how you could tell, “I bet you look handsome with your glasses on.”

Nanami cursed himself for leaving his glasses in his coat pocket across the bar. He’ll never make that mistake again. Bringing the chilled glass to his lips, attempting to cover his smile. He feels so seen by you, the way your eyes move over every inch of him, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been observed so closely. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying. You’re terrifying. You’re exhilarating. You’re still looking at him. You’re looking at him expectantly. You asked him another question and he missed it. He scrambles through the last few seconds searching for what you may have said to him, and how he possibly could have missed it.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if those were your friends over there.” You pointed over his shoulder.

Nanami turned quickly, oh god too quickly, his head spinning a bit as his equilibrium struggled to catch up. Gojo was waving at him, gesturing broadly in unintelligible charades. Nanami felt his frustration flare up at both having been distracted from you and also having to once again decipher another one of Satoru’s riddles. At the meeting of their eye line, Gojo began to move over to where the pair of you were seated, Geto and Shoko sharing the weight of a stumbling Ijichi. The head vein began pulsing again, he ought to name it after Gojo the way he sets it off. Panic set throughout his body, he didn’t want you to meet his friends— or maybe he didn’t want them to meet you. Not yet. He didn’t want to risk ruining what hadn’t yet really started. Suddenly feeling very territorial of you, he turned back, once again sending his head swimming.

“Yes. Those are my coworkers. I’m not—“

“Nanamiiiiin. We gotta take Ijichi home, he’s already thrown up twice. It’s gross.” Gojo was already halfway through his sentence before reaching the bar.

You assessed the new crowd of faces. Odd faces, all so well built and specific. Between the tall man in the darkest sunglasses you had ever seen in an already dark bar, the lithe woman with purple eyeshadow and the most perfect beauty mark, and the embodiment of tall dark and handsome— you wondered what exactly Nanami did for a living. Was there some kind of work force that employed only the hottest people you had ever seen. It took you a second to notice the younger, far drunker man with his arm slung around the black haired man with the gauges. The white haired man was still talking to Nanami, maybe arguing, but they spoke too softly for you to hear specifics. Both were cut off

“So do you want a ride home or are you good here?” Gauges asked eyes moving between you and Nanami coolly, before readjusting his hold of the nearly asleep fourth man.

The woman tapped on her phone, seemingly uninvested in what was happening, now barely holding onto their friend.

The white haired man cut in before Nanami could answer, “you hit those drinks pretty hard, Nanami. We don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” His face turned toward you and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt them.

Wow, like really felt them, he was sizing you up, it was clear. It was confusing, his inflection was teasing-almost joking, but his energy was severe.

Nanami was seething, mortified by the intrusion and Gojo’s crass assertion, “I can get myself home.”

It would have sounded more convincing if the slurring of his voice hadn’t married the words myself and home into a mess. You noticed, realizing for the first time that you were much more sober than him. His friends noticed too.

Nanami cleared his throat before speaking again, “I’m a grown man, I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojo. I’m enjoying my evening. Please take Ijichi home.”

Gojo didn’t seem convinced, turning his face back to you and finally sliding the sunglasses down his nose to reveal the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen. They nearly glowed in the dim club. This gesture caused the others of the group to stiffen up. The woman finally putting her phone down, Gauges eyeing him carefully, even Nanami drew in a tense breath.

“We quite like our friend Nanami, we wouldn’t want him getting hurt.” He spoke directly to you, between his height and your seated position he leaned over you slightly, “are you someone we can trust our friend with?”

Nanami was about to cut in but before he could you met those azure eyes with yours, “I quite like your friend too.,” you copied his inflection, “ I understand why you’d be wary of some stranger taking him home. Since you have your hands full, I’ll watch him for the night. If he decides he needs a ride home, why don’t I call you directly?”

Nanami felt his jaw drop, looking between you and Gojo carefully. He caught Geto’s eye, seeing him smile lightly. No one talked to Gojo like this. Shoko chuckled softly, impressed with your lack of fear in the face of their “strongest” friend. There was no way for you to know the risk you were taking, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

“That is, if he would like to join me back to mine?” You continued, looking away from Gojo and back to Nanami.

“I’d like that very much.” Nanami answered quickly, in any other situation he would be embarrassed at how eager he sounded, especially in front of his friends. But you wanted to take him home, you wanted to keep talking to him, he could see where you lived, maybe you would let him kiss you, or touch you again.

“Give me your phone.”

The request snapped Nanami from his fantasy. Gojo held his hand out expectantly. To his surprise you handed over your cell phone. Gojo typed quickly, “This is my phone number and where Nanami lives. If I don’t answer, stick him in a cab to this address. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s nice to meet you, Gojo.” You attempted to ease the tension created, “I promise you’ve left him in good hands and I’ll return him to you in one piece.” You smiled warmly at him, cutting through the attempts at intimidation, even offering a small wink to Nanami over his friend’s shoulder.

You didn’t back down, you understood why anyone would be concerned about leaving their drunk friend with a stranger. It was a testament to how much he cared, he seemed completely sober himself. Playing DD, you assumed, was not a role he took lightly. You respected his protectiveness, you had done nearly the same on many occasions. If this is what Nanami’s friends were like, you would definitely fit in. You glanced down at where Gojo had written in the notes app of your phone. A string of numbers— his cell, and an address, Nanami’s, and below that another line, just for you.

Be nice to him, he’s more sensitive than he looks :)

Yeah, you would get along with this one. You smiled up at him and Nanami both before the dark haired man slung the full weight of the now completely passed out bespectacled man on his back in an attempt at a piggy back, and smiled to you warmly,

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kento. Have a nice night.” Before turning and leading the group toward the exit. Gojo handed off Nanami’s jacket before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning around to follow.

With no more company, the two of you were once again alone. Nanami struggled to collect his thoughts before you soothed him, “Your friends are nice. They seem to really care about you. How long have you all worked together?”

“We all went to high school together.”

“And you’re still friends? That impressive, I barely keep up with friends from that long ago.”

“We’re, sort of, stuck with each other.” Nanami started, caught in the trap of having to figure out some way to explain his job without, actually, explaining his job. Thankfully, you cut that conversational thread and moved forward.

“I hope I wasn't too forward. You don't have to come back to mine. I felt like we were just getting to talking and I didn’t want to cut it short yet. But please don’t feel obligated.” You wanted to assure him that he could proceed however he wanted to. Despite how hopelessly attracted to this man you were, you recognized your responsibility as the more sober party to remain respectful.

“No I want to!” He blurted, not thinking about his volume, quickly standing.

You laughed, “I didn’t mean now! If you want to stay and have another drink, or dance more, that's good too.”

His resolve was starting to crack, it had been nearly an hour since he first saw you enter the club. He wanted desperately to be alone with you, suddenly the club was too hot and too crowded and too loud. Everything was overwhelming, and the only thing he wanted to overwhelm him was you.

Still standing he stepped in toward you a sudden surge of confidence lowering his voice and causing his head to dip down to meet you at eye level, “I would, very much like to join you back at your place.”

His voice was dripping with want, the eroticism behind his words lidding his eyes and sending chills down the side of your neck. You let out a small shaky breath before standing up, chest nearly colliding with his, sending him back up to his full height.

“Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. Stay here.”

You nearly ran to find Sophie and your mutual friends at a table of their own. Leaving Nanami to settle his tab and wait patiently at the bar for your return. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear the music. When you finally found her, you pulled her close to speak directly into her ear.

“I’m taking blondie back to mine. You all good here?”

She gave you a taunting oooh before smiling, “you really do work fast. Next time lets see if you can last two full hours before taking someone home.”

You rolled your eyes before giving her a tight hug and grabbing your jacket, “love you, text me when you get home.”

Waving to your other friends you turned on your heels and saw Nanami still standing at the bar patiently at the bar patiently. He hadn't pulled out his phone to pass the time, he simply waited, just as you had told him. God, if he could follow benign instructions like this so well, you can only imagine how well he would do with something more salacious. You had to relax, you knew nothing would happen tonight. He would come over and crash, and that was enough for now.

Nanami counted to six in his head over and over, trying to measure his breaths as though if he increased his oxygen intake he wouldn't be drunk anymore. The sides of his vision were fuzzy and dreamlike, ears hot, tongue a bit dry, all his physical indicators of intoxication were present. He paid his tab, the only things on it were your and his brief shared drink. Realizing that since Gojo( maybe Geto?) had purchased the earlier rounds, he actually had no way of knowing how much he had had tonight. What had he gotten himself into? His attempts to sober up proved inefficient because just as quickly as you had left, you were standing in front of him once more wearing your jacket and sliding your purse over your shoulder. You still looked so beautiful,

“Ready?”

He nodded, “Ready.”

And now he sat in the back of a cab, behind the driver, you on the other side. Had he remembered to open the door for you? Had you two waited outside for the cab to pull up long? A window had been cracked allowing fresh, night air to brush past his face. Your thumb ran over the back of his hand. You were holding his hand. He looked down to confirm that your fingers were interlocked with his resting on the middle seat between the two of you. They looked good like that, his long fingers laced with yours. How long had you been holding hands? Eyes wandering he saw the skin of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up, he wanted to feel your leg against his, the space between you in the backseat suddenly feeling cavernous.

“You’re so far away.” he mutters, not really intending to say so out loud.

Without saying anything you giggled and scooted closer to him, moving your joined hands into your lap and your leg right against his. You tipped your head up to look at him, he wanted desperately to kiss you. Just as he began to lean into your lips you stopped him with your fingers.

“Not yet.” was all you offered him as conciliation.

He nodded, lips still restrained by your fingertips. The faint smell of the lime you had squeezed into your drink still lingering. Even just having his lips on your fingertips sent his body into a frenzy. But he was a patient man. Drunk or not, he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Still, he allowed himself to indulge a little, he kissed your finger tips before pulling back with a sigh, nodding silently.

The rest of the drive was quick, or at least it felt quick. You lived in an apartment building and when the cab pulled up outside, you handed over a few bills before sliding out of the door closest to you. Nanami began to move toward his before it opened suddenly. You had opened his door for him and were now offering your hand to help him out. He stared up at you entranced, he felt romanced by you. It dawned on him that he had truly let himself be “picked up”. Taking your hand he exited the car and tried to think if he had ever had this happen before. Women approached him sure, men too, but whenever he allowed himself to spend the night with someone they had always come back to his place. It allowed him a sense of control, and thus comfort in a vulnerable situation. Vulnerability did not come naturally to him, not now anyway. He wasn't prudish or uncomfortable with casual sex, but he liked to remain the organizer of them. Much like everything in his life he liked it to remain under his control. But tonight, you had steered him right to your door and he was so willing, it dawned on him only once that maybe he could have gotten himself in a dangerous situation. He barely knew anything about you, he knew your name, and now where you lived, but the rest of you was a mystery to him. And yet here he was, following you down the hallway to your apartment door truly not caring what could be on the other side as long as it meant more time with you.

You hesitated at the front door, holding your keys in one hand, aimed at the lock.

“I want you to know I’ll call your friend whenever you like. If you decide you want to leave, you just say so and It won't be a problem. You won't hurt my feelings and it doesn’t have to be awkward.” It felt redundant at his point, but you couldn't shake the discomfort of having taken him home in this state. He had nodded off briefly in the cab, holding your hand tightly, before coming too and staring at you with wide eyes. You nearly backed off then and redirected the driver to the address his friend-- neigh, Bodyguard-- had written down. But then he had wanted you to come closer, and tried to kiss you. You knew he wasn't thinking clearly, but still he sought you out.

Gnawing the inside of your lip you looked up at him nervously, waiting for his response. Nanami looked down at you, his already drooping eyes still warm toward you, “I really like you. I think you’re beautiful. I bet you're a great decorator, can I please see what you’ve done to your apartment?”

His response made you laugh again. He Hadn't really answered you, but it was clear what he wanted. You weren't sure if he was intending to be funny, but nonetheless, the anxiety you had just felt slipped away once again and you turned the lock, leading him inside. You liked your apartment, it wasn't the nicest place available. But it was a two bedroom you could afford by yourself, with a good sized kitchen and small personal patio. Frankly, you were lucky to have even found it. You were a good decorator, and you were proud of the job you had done with the interior. A large, well managed and organized bookshelf along one wall with a recliner and side table, art along the walls you had collected since first moving away from home. A medium sized brown couch that was perfect for movie nights with Sophie or an afternoon nap. You had made a home here, and you were thankful for the chance to show it off.

“Wow…” Nanami’s voice sounded nice inside of your home.

“You like it?” you began to shed your jacket, hanging it on a tree rack by the door and clicking on a few lights. You offered to take his coat.

“It’s beautiful, so warm.” Nanami began to slip his jacket down his shoulder, suddenly realizing he didn't actually remember putting it on, “you did all of this yourself?”

You barely heard his question, distracted by the way his shirt stretched over the muscles of his back, “Uh.. yeah. I moved in about three years ago. So it's been a process but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.”

You turned to hang his coat next to yours, even they looked cute together. He removed his shoes carefully, still stumbling a bit before he took a few steps into your apartment’s main room.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” you gestured to the couch

He sat gracelessly, cushion sinking more under him than he expected. His couch at home was pretty stiff, yours was soft and pliant under his weight. He steadied himself again, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

“I dont usually drink like this, I drink.. Just not so….like this?” He attempted to save some face in the wake of his stumble.

You stood by the edge of the couch before moving into the kitchen area.

“Are you hungry? I could make us something before bed.” You offered, more needing an escape from the building sexual tension than feeling any actual hunger.

“Oh I couldn’t put you out like that…” He started, feeling his limbs get heavy with comfort as the softness of your couch lulled him to lay down. It wouldn't hurt to just lay down a little, right?

“It's no trouble, really! We may feel better in the morning if we eat something now.” you called from behind him. Your voice seemed further away somehow as he pressed his cheek against the soft suede beneath him.

The couch smelled so good, like incense and home cooked food. He wondered if you had a pet he hadn't yet seen, or if you wanted one. Were you a dog person? Or did you prefer cats? Maybe you were one of those people into reptiles, he could learn to love one if you wanted him to. In this state he would do anything you asked him. Which was precisely why he wasn't getting the one thing he wanted from you, he buried his frustrated expression further into the couch. A small groan exiting his lips. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, rousing him back to attention.

“Kento, honey? You still with me?” your voice was so sweet saying his name, he wanted to hear it again. Once he looked up at you he saw you had a glass of water in your hand offering it to him, “Are you good to sleep in these clothes or should I look for something for you to wear?”

He was still in his dress clothes, not his work dress clothes, but not exactly lounge wear. His button up was stiff and pants had been well tailored, hell, he was still wearing his belt, “thank you.” he accepted the water, and by proxy your offer.

He was left alone in your living room. Slurping down the cool water he tried once against to regain his composure. Had he fallen asleep again just now? You seemed to have abandoned the idea of eating so he must have drifted off. This job really had run him ragged.

“They still may not be the right size, but they’ll work for the night I think.” You returned from the side room, presumably your bedroom, with a pair of black sweatpants, “They used to be my brother’s, but they've got some paint stains from when I redid the bathroom. Sorry I don't really have anything else.”

He accepted them graciously, setting the water down on a coaster before standing, “Thank you, this is all very nice of you. Letting me stay the night like this, I'm really not usually like this…”he started to repeat himself.

“It's really no trouble, it's been a long time since I let a man as handsome as you sleep on my couch.”

The couch. So he wouldn't be joining you in bed tonight. Part of him had hoped that even though he wouldn't be sleeping with you tonight, he could at least sleep in your bed, “The couch, huh?” His half awake state allowed the thought to slip out half formed.

“Mhm, the couch. You two seem to have really hit it off. I'm certain the drool puddle wasn't there when I left.” You pointed to a small wet spot on the cushion where his face had been.

Once again the embarrassment of his current state shot through his body like electricity, so he had fallen asleep again. He hung his head cringing at himself, “Oh jesus…I cant believe this.. I’m--”

You cut him off, “You really don't need to be sorry. I like having you here. And tomorrow morning maybe we can have coffee and talk some more. I hope you don't think I was just inviting you over to fuck you.”

His breath caught, “No, I- well.. I thought you--”

“I, of course, want to fuck you. And I don't really see any point in hiding it anymore now that you’re here. But it’s just not going to happen tonight. And I don't think I'll get a wink of sleep next to you when all I can think about is that. Does that make sense?”You were tired, you didn't want to be coy and demure anymore. You wanted to be frank and upfront about how you felt and what you wanted. Nanami nodded understandingly, although still a little surprised at your confession. You continued, “So, you’ll sleep here. I’ll sleep in my bed. I usually wake up at 8, the door to my bedroom is unlocked. If you need anything during the night, please don't hesitate to wake me up. The bathroom is the door behind you, you can change in there.”

Nanami was awestruck by your instructional tone, it sent his mind in a thousand directions; thinking of you telling him house work that needed to be done on the weekend, to you telling him exactly how to please you. He wanted you so badly, pants growing tighter, breath getting heavier. You stepped forward, nearly right up against his chest.

“I hope you're not too disappointed that I won't take advantage of you tonight.” Your voice soft.

“I respect your self control.” His eyes were locked on your lips, so plump and soft looking.

“I’m going to bed,”You leaned in closer, so close he could smell your perfume again, still as hypnotic as it was in the club, “Goodnight, Kento.”

You pressed your lips against his cheek. His body shuddered as your lips lingered there before you pulled away back on flat feet. Trying desperately to regulate his racing heart, Nanmi looked at you desperately.

“Goodnight.”

You turned back to the side room hitting a wall switch to extinguish the kitchen light before closing your bedroom door and leaving him in your dimly lit living room. He could still feel your lips burning on his cheek, he stood for a few seconds not wanting any other sensations that could potentially dull this one. Finally, he shed his pants, folding them haphazardly and setting them on your recliner. He sweatpants you had given him fit okay, the drawstring was broken so they hung pretty loose around his hips, showing just the elastic of his briefs. He undid the rest of his shirt buttons and folded it to stack atop his pants. He hoped you wouldn't mind, but he never slept with a shirt on. Honestly, he didn't usually sleep with pants on either, he already ran hot but sleeping was an entirely different story. Sleeping fully clothed almost always culminated in him waking up in a pool of sweat as though he had just broken a fever. Laying on his back on the couch he pulled a throw blanket over him, mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow.

In your room you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You had returned to your room like every night, put on an old t shirt and shorts as you always did, washed your face and brushed your hair as though it was any old night, turned on your white noise and gotten into bed as if there wasn't the most attractive and charming man you had ever met settling in to sleep on your couch at this very moment. The nights events played and replayed in your mind on a loop, the intensity of his gaze across the floor, the way he had materialized right in front of you, the feeling of his body pressed up behind yours, his hands on your back back, his hand in yours, him asking to kiss you in the cab, him snoring softly on your couch, the way he had looked at you as he said goodnight. You had never felt so pulled toward another person before. It was far from a perfect night, on a perfect night you’d be fucking each other blind until the sun came up at this very moment. On a perfect night you wouldn't have even been in that club, you would already be his, spending romantic evenings reading and cooking. You wondered if he liked to read, what his favorite meals were, if he wanted pets, if he would want to move in here or if he’d ask you to move in with him. You recognized the street name of his address, he lived in a far nicer part of the city than you did. You wondered what his place looked like, if he had decorated it personally or if he had help. God, you haven't even asked if he had a girlfriend. You checked for a ring while you were dancing, but you got so caught up that the idea of a girlfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind. You rolled onto your side trying to relieve some anxiety, he didn't have a girlfriend. You met his friends, they were intense, sure. And sure, one of them had lightly threatened you, but it didn't seem like the threat was rooted in a fear of infidelity. It seemed like the threat came purely from a safety standpoint.

Were you being irresponsible? Was it smart of you to have brought him here so easily? You rarely brought hook ups here, almost always opting to follow them home and politely excuse yourself in the morning. You found yourself bending so many of your usual rules for him, giving your information to his friends, leaving the club so quickly, bringing him to your apartment. Nanami was so big and looked so strong, it probably wouldn't take a lot for him to overpower you. You had practically offered yourself to him on a silver plate. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to be afraid of him. You couldn't say that you knew him well enough to know he was safe, but you just…trusted him. And you felt that he trusted you too.

Your lips still tingled from kissing him. It was just a goodnight kiss, a simple gesture intended to convey continued interest but the end of the conversation around sex. You could call it chaste, even. And yet here you were, lips feeling electrified from a mere two second kiss on the cheek. Whatever product he uses in his hair smelled incredible, like honey or tobacco or sandalwood. Something organic and masculine. The soft sound of surprise he had let out when you touched the back of his sleeping neck resounded in your ears. His voice was so pretty, your mind attempted to conjure what he could sound like when he climaxed. If he would let out a low, husky groan, or if he would whine and beg you for more. You felt your pussy dampen at what your imagination offered you. Thoughts of him were consuming you, seconds moving by glacially as you begged for sleep to take over and bring the beautiful, sober light of day through your bedroom window. When it finally did your dreams were abstract but they were blue and honey and blonde.

Nanami could already feel his head pulsing before he opened his eyes. Oh God. When he finally did manage to pry his eyes open, he found himself not looking at his bedroom wall. He wasn't in his bedroom at all. He wasn't in his bed. Where the fuck was he? He sat up slowly, head pounding and back aching. He took in his new surroundings: he was on a couch, there were his clothes folded on the chair, he remembered taking them off, he looked to the coffee table and saw a glass of water mostly untouched with two small painkillers next to it. It must have been left there by you. YOU! This was your apartment, he had slept on your couch in your apartment! Memories of the previous night came screaming back against his aching head. The club, the shots, meeting you, dancing, you taking him home, you taking care of him-- oh god he was so drunk. Had he really fallen asleep twice? He was mortified. He didn't know if he could face seeing you. He remembered Gojo’s threats and his cheeks burned both in embarrassment and rage, where does he get off acting like some kind of guardian over him. Then again, if he was that drunk then maybe he needed it…maybe just not that one. He stood up on shaky, sore legs, even these pants weren't his. He needed to leave before he embarrassed you or himself any further. This was a mistake, he can't believe he let himself get so carried away, you must have thought he was some drunken fool who cant take care of himself. Maybe he was a drunken fool who couldnt take care of himself.

He unfolded his pants and wracked his brain for whether you had told him which door was your bathroom so he could change back into his own clothes. Just as he was trying to remember which door you had said led to the bathroom, you emerged from the side room yawning.

“Good morning!” You stretched a bit as you walked into the kitchen, “I hope you weren't planning on running off before I got out here. I set the coffee to make enough for two and if you don't drink part of it, I'll be buzzing for the rest of the day.”

The lilt of your laugh brought it all back. He knew exactly how he let himself get carried away. You were magnificent, even more beautiful in the morning light, hair undone, legs exposed under your sleep shorts, what appeared to be a well loved sweatshirt hanging off your shoulders. You took his breath away, he couldn't believe you were actually real. Not some dream his drunken state had conjured to torment him.

You were so grateful to have your back turned on him, it was stupid of you to assume he would have slept in that button up, and you hadn't given him a shirt to wear, despite having an extensive collection of oversized t-shirts that would certainly have covered him. But seeing him shirtless in your living room just for the duration of your walk from bedroom to coffee maker was enough to nearly make you falter right then and there. He was so, fucking, built. How does one even get a body like that, did he live at the gym? He hadn't really explained what it was he did for work, was he a trainer? You weren't really a big gym person, but you could be convinced to start going if it meant watching him huff and puff and sweat.

“Good morning. I don't know where to begin…”, His voice was the same as the previous night, low and smooth, but this morning it was more reserved, more even and controlled, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out last night. I really can't believe my own behavior. I’m truly sorry.”

You turned to face him, you were expecting some kind of hangover induced remorse, but he sounded genuinely apologetic, as though he had imposed himself upon you rather than having been invited as a guest.

He continued, “I know it doesn't mean much, but I don’t go out very often. I had had a rough few weeks at work and my friends wanted to help me loosen up a bit. Apparently I did a little too good of a job with that part. I'm so sorry to have put you out, I hope your night wasn’t ruined by having to take care of me. I'm grateful to you, I'm just so…”

“How do you take it?” you cut him off before allowing him to apologize to you once again, turning back around to the two cups of coffee you had poured.

“Excuse me?”

“Your coffee,” you opened the fridge to see if you even had any milk to offer him.

“I--”

“I have sugar, or honey if you prefer, and then I don't have any cream but i do have oat milk. I usually take mine with one sugar. How do you take yours?”

Nanami was beside himself, mid flagellation, completely shut down and now once again having to ask something of you, “One sugar is perfect.”

You dropped about a teaspoon of sugar into each mug, giving them both a quick stir before setting the spoon in the sink and walking over to the couch to meet him. Getting close you saw that his freckles did extend down onto his shoulders. Small scatterings of cinnamon dusted on fair, even skin. You handed him one mug, your favorite mug actually, it was dark blue and hand thrown. You had bought it at an art fair when you first moved to town, you’d tell him that story eventually.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. I’m glad I met you last night. And I’m glad you stayed over. And I'm especially glad you're still here now.” You took a seat on your usual spot on the couch, to the right of him. He was still standing, body facing the kitchen but face watching you intently, now holding his mug but not drinking. You patted the spot next to you on the couch. He sat down, silence fell between the two of you as you sipped your coffee again. He followed suit, the steaming drink already starting to soothe his hangover. He couldn't help the soft moan the escaped him, drinking down the relief of caffeine.

“Taste okay?” you checked in.

“Its perfect. Thank you.” he felt himself loosen up, his brain choosing to be kinder and remind himself of the parts of last night that had gone well. Making you laugh, making you smile, dancing with you, the smell of your hair, your lips on his cheek. You were sat facing him, back against the arm of the couch, legs curled in front of you, he sat up right with his feet planted on the ground, allowing his poster to relax a bit and lean against the back of your couch.

You took his relaxation as an opportunity to take him in. So this was what he was like in the morning: shyer, a bit stiffer, still so fucking handsome. His brown eyes were still a bit droopy with sleep (and likely a bit of light sensitivity), a light impression of the hem of your couch cushion had imprinted itself on his cheek, his hairstyle had fallen and his blonde strands now hung loosely in front of his face. And he still hasn't put a shirt on. His torso was like something in a museum. Strong, broad shoulders sat atop full, muscle built pectorals. The hair there was light and looked soft, it became darker and coarser leading down his toned stomach. You longed to run your tongue over every inch of him, but chose instead to sip your coffee and gawk somewhat openly. Finally the silence became too much and you spoke up again,

“When do I need to have you back to your bodyguard?” you teased sliding your knee to bump against his.

“My-- oh, Gojo, don’t worry about him. He’s likely forgotten all about it.” Nanami tried to cover up the hopefulness in his voice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be today?”

It was a Friday, it was plausible you would have to go into a job today, but he didn't know what you did for work so it was equally plausible that you, like him, were off. To his delight you shook your head, smiling coyly over the rim of your coffee cup, leaning back against the throw pillows he had arranged to rest his head last night. Feeling more confident now that he had shaken off the initial mortification, Nanami scooted closer to you on the couch, setting his mug down on your coffee table. He moved one hand to gently take your mug and place it on the coffee table beside his. He then put his hands at the top of your knees and pulled you closer to him, so you were nearly sitting in his lap.

“So I have a question.” He kept his hands on your legs as he spoke.

“Mm?” you were too stunned to form any actual words.

“Last night, you said something to me. Something about wanting to wait until this morning to fuck me,” he shocked himself at his boldness, “how do you feel about that now?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly all encompassing as his hands touched your skin, this was the most you had touched since the dance floor. His fingertips felt like they were burning you, but the way a hot bath burns your skin just before it becomes relaxing.

This was it, you met his eyes, flicking down briefly to his lips, then back up,“I am still, very interested. What about you.”

Nanami moved one hand over your shoulder, to the back of your neck, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your lips and he spoke, “I can't believe you made me wait all night.”

He pushed his lips to yours, finally feeling the kiss you both had waited so desperately for. His lips were so soft, the coffee you prepared lingering on both of you. His hand on your neck rose to tangle in your hair and yours reached out to find his neck, his shoulder, his hair-- fucking ANYTHING. He leaned over you slightly, catching a momentary moan and sliding his tongue between your lips, he found himself moaning, feeling your tongue slide against his. Your hands were on his back now, feeling the muscles flex and retract at every turn of his head or readjustment of his hands. The hand not on your head how found your waist, sliding up and down your form savoring every roll and bump and divot his fingers could find. Finally, fucking finally he could touch you, his lips slotted against yours over and over, allowing your tongues adjust and readjust, it was messy and desperate and so passionate, Nanami kissed you like he would never kiss you or anyone else every again. Like a man who knew he could die tomorrow and never again know the warmth of a kiss this intense. You pulled away briefly for air and before his hungry lips could pull you back down you started to remove your top. He met your hands half way and finished the motion for you, you hadn't put a bra on since waking up, opting instead for the thick sweatshirt instead. Your chest was now as exposed as his was. As desperate as he was to have your lips on his again, he took a moment to admire you. Your breasts were full, and round enough to fit perfectly in his grip, nipples hardened already in your exhilaration, still so reactive for him. He wondered if you were wet already, and if so- how wet were you. He couldn't wait to find out. He was staring, lost in his thoughts of how best to appreciate everything you were giving him. So much care, so much trust, your beautiful body. He wanted to know how best to show you what it meant to him.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Since you shed your top he was staring at you. You didn't mind it at first, but it was starting to make you self conscious. You weren't insecure about your body, but the intensity of his gaze, how you could nearly hear his mind racing, made you desperate to know what he thought. Finally he broke his gaze away from your chest, raising up one hand to hold your right breast firmly, he looked deep into your eyes moving to kiss you again, softer and more intimately but still just as passionate as before.

“So beautiful…” he said in between kisses, “Even better than I imagined. You’re so beautiful.”

You moaned against his lips as he massaged your chest. He redirected his kisses down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and right to the breast held in his hand. He kissed around the nipple before finally taking it into his mouth. A haughty moan was pulled from you as he sucked hard, eyes flicking up to watch you arch under his mouth. He moved to the otherside, and your hand took refuge in the short hair at the back of his neck. The cropped undercut left little to grip, so your nails dug lightly into his scalp. He moaned around your nipple, eyes rolling back slightly, and hips jutting into the couch involuntarily.

You marvel at his reaction, letting out a small chuckle before moving your nails across his hair again, “You like that?”

He nods wordlessly, mouth still full of you. He knew he was kissing hard enough to bruise, he didn't care. The taste of your skin, the feeling of your body under his, of your fingers in your hair had him feeling drunker than last night. He couldn't get enough of you, he was truly insatiable. He began to move to return to the first side of your chest when you pulled him back up to your mouth, kissing him hard.

“‘Need you.” you pleaded against him

“Need you too, so fucking bad.” He agreed, leaning back upright, and bringing you with him.

You pulled off and stood up quickly, your boobs bouncing as you moved, he would have been embarrassed of the sizable tent growing in the borrowed sweatpants, if he had had any remaining brain power to think about anything other than fucking you. But he didn’t. He stood up and followed you into your bedroom. You had a queen bed, a small wardrobe, a vanity table that appeared to double as a work desk and maybe moonlighted as a craft station. He couldn’t wait to find out what clothes went in what drawers, maybe eventually you would let him keep some of his work clothes here so he could spend the night on weekdays. You turned to face him before reaching the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down once again to kiss you. His hands fell to your exposed waist, the skin so soft and supple, they teased along the topline of your shorts, lingering to be told the next move. Without him having to ask, you nodded against his lips, and his hands dipped underneath the waist band, finding not underwear but only skin. His hands gripped into the meat of your ass, pulling moans from both of you. Your own hands had slipped down his stomach and began to remove the second hand pants from him as well. Finding the tangled up positioning complicated, you both pulled away briefly to remove the last of your clothing before you led him in climbing on the bed. He followed suit, ogling openly at how your body curved and folded and stretched with every motion. You were nearly serpentine the way your hips shifted climbing onto your bed. His cock was so hard between his legs, pre cum dripping onto your comforter as he followed your crawl. As you turned onto your back, he was right behind you, moving himself between your legs to meet your lips once more. A hand started on the back of one of your thighs, causing you to shiver deliciously.

“You're so sensitive.” He praised, sliding a finger feather light from your ass to the back of your knee.

You mewled unabashedly, proving his point. Finger trailing back down, his hands now gripped both of your thighs, he was on his knees before you, parting your legs further to finally, FINALLY look right at your glistening wet pussy. He nearly fainted at the sight. Lower lips parted to reveal the most beautiful, most delicious looking pussy he had ever seen. He couldn't stop himself, he leaned right down and planted a kiss directly onto it. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation, the taste, the smell, the feel of your pussy lips against his mouth, soft pubic hair brushing his nose and he gave a long lick from bottom to top.

“Thank you,” he was so grateful to you. For last night, for taking care of him, for being here this morning, for being here at all, he couldn't believe he had found you like this, and he planned to make the most of his chance.

Never in your life had you been thanked by someone eating your pussy. But here was Kento Nanami devouring you like he hadn't eaten in weeks and whimpering gratitudes into your wetness. You hadn't had time to even realize his intentions before he pushed his tongue between your lips, and once he had your brain had short circuited, causing you to assume the initial “thank you” had been all in your head. It wasn't until it was a mantra he clung to while increasing his ferocity that you realized he really was thanking you. Your hands flew to his hair again, this time pushing back the longer strands in the front that had gathered in his face. You pulled hard when he first sucked your clit into his mouth, the moan he let out sent vibrations up your body and added to the pleasure he was already giving you. Your legs were over his shoulders, your hands in his hair, his mouth was taking you apart one lap at a time, one of his hands found your breasts again, there was so much sensation it was like he knew precisely how to make you unravel before him.

Nanami didn't even realize he was rutting his hips into your mattress, his body desperately seeking friction to his painfully hard cock. He didnt think he had been this hard in years, he couldnt think at-fucking-all. The only thing on his mind was how good you tasted, how pretty you sounded above him, he wanted to hear you say his name, he wanted to make you say his name. He brought his free hand up and slid two of his fingers up and down your folds, getting them thoroughly wet before stopping them just in front of your already clenching hole.

“Do you want these?” his voice is even lower than before, mouth pornographically drenched in you.

You nodded helplessly, just looking at him between your legs threatening to make you cum. He gave a rough squeeze to the breast he held, “No.” he corrected, “ask me.���

You knew what game he wanted to play now, you knew he could tell how much wetter you had just gotten at his darker tone and rougher grip, the tiny showcase of his strength already sending your mind reeling to know how rough he could really get with you. But not right now, now you needed him, any of him, inside of you more than you needed air. So you’ll play along.

“Please, oh fuck please Kento, please put your fingers inside me, i need it. I need it so bad, please.”

More than pleased with your efforts, he slides his fingers into you, they go in so easily, youre so fucking wet. He resumes his meal, already itching to taste you again, now using his fingers to draw even more wetness out of you and onto his tongue. He curls his fingers slightly upward and your moans raise in pitch. He’s hit it, if he keeps this up you’ll cum in no time. You're panting, your moaning, you’re nearly screaming and Kento continues to thrust his long fingers into you, hitting your g spot with inhuman accuracy. You can feel it, you’re nearly there.

“K-Kento i’m..oh fuck i..I’m cumming of fuck I--”, a half scream-half moan rips through your lungs robbing you of the end of your sentence as he pulls your orgasm out of you. You're shaking, you’re pulling his hair, you’re repeating his name over and over until it's completely garbled in your mouth. He takes everything you give him, holding your hips down firmly so you stay connected to his mouth, not letting up with his fingers until he's satisfied you’re through the totality of your first climax. He continues lazy licks as you come down from your high, slowly easing out his fingers and sucking those clean as well.

From your spot on your back you look down at him still panting and dazed from cumming harder than you thought possible with another person. You and your trusty vibrator had made some good memories, but you never expected someone could make you cum like that on the first try. He knew it too, he could see it on your face as he savored the remnants of your cum on his fingers. You moved your hands to his shoulders, weakly pulling, urging him to come up to you. He followed your lead and moved his body over you. You could finally see how fucking hard he was. And how fucking big he was. Just by looking you had to assume he was seven or eight inches long, and he was thick, thicker towards the head than at the base, two pretty veins wrapped around him, the tip was so pink it was nearly red, sticky with precum and still weeping. It curved upward, wanting to rest against his lower abdomen, and the darker blond hair there that grew at the base of him. He clearly kept it groomed, it not being too long or unkempt, but you were grateful it was there. The monstrous thing would probably only look more intimidating without it.

He could see that you were doing the same mental calculations he had seen in every partner he had ever had, and he tucked away the immature arrogant pride and chose to instead kiss the side of your mouth, along your jaw, and up to the shell of your ear,

“It’ll fit, you're already so wet for me, and if it doesn't fit all in one go, that's okay. We can work our way up to it. Trust me.” He kissed your neck soothingly, and that was all you needed. You could already feel yourself dampening again, you wanted so desperately to please him, had just made you cum so hard, you had to at least try to settle the score. Finding his lips once again, you pulled him into another desperate kiss, this time trailing your hand down and wrapping your hand around his cock. Using his already collected precum to coat his shaft, you moved your hand up and down a few times, trying to find the right rhythm before his hand gripped your wrist sternly, forcing you to look him in the eye,

“I nearly came already just from eating your pussy, if you touch me like that I’ll cum right now and I have to be inside of you at least once before then.” he moves your hand away from him and above your head. You keep it there, although direction is ungiven, and he seems pleased by this. He moves to his knees between your legs, Wrapping your legs around his waist, he grips his desperate cock and slides it against your pussy, collecting as much arousal as he can. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows how big he is, he knows if he bottoms out without enough prep it won’t feel good for you the way it would for him, he wants you to feel good. He wants you to make that sound again. That pretty scream of his name and pure pleasure. You watch him as he becomes laser focused on the point where you'll be connected in mere moments, you feel honored, in a way to see him like this. He’s being so attentive, so thoughtful and he's making you feel so good. Your hand reaches up and touches the side of his face, and he leans into your palm, nuzzling into it.

“I trust you, Kento. Please, baby, fill me up, I need you so bad, please fuck me.”

He presses a kiss to the heel of your hand, the light breaks in your voice making cock twitch in his own hand, he can’t wait any longer, he begins easing himself inside. He tries, he really tries to go as slow as he can, but hes so fucked out and desperate he cant control his movements as well as he usually would. Feeling him push inside of you, you’ve never been so full in your life, he stretches you so nicely, a slight burn but the combination of foreplay and your first orgasm soothe any pain or anxiety you may have had. His eyes are closed, his brows are furrowed, lips parted and still wet. He looks so beautiful like this. You think he's finally gotten all the way in as he stops his movements, you couldn't be more wrong, his hands lift your hips up slightly, more aligned with his pelvis and he slides back out an inch, before pushing the rest of his length inside of you. You feel him against your cervix, you feel him along every inch inside of you.

Looking down at you, he finally opens his eyes, you look so beautiful filled with him. Mouth dropped open, a warm flush settling over your chest and neck, one hand gripping his arm tightly, the other buried in the blanket beneath you. He wants to keep you like this forever, he attempts to push even deeper, seeing how far you can really take him. Gasping your back arches away from his grasp, but he pulls you back to him.

“Just like this, take it all. Look at you, such a good girl for me. Taking every inch.” His praise coaxes you to relax again. He's so deep inside of you, it feels amazing, “You think I can move now, baby?”

You nod desperately. He starts a slow thrust, opening you up little by little. He's hitting every spot inside of you, you don't know how but you can already feel another orgasm building from just the first few thrusts.

“How do you expect me to fuck you properly, when she wont let me go.” he teases above you, sliding his fingers in a V shape along your innermost fold, right where you’ve gripped around him so tightly.

“‘Mm sorry.” you gasp out barely registering the conversation.

“Oh fuck,” he sputters, finally able to pull completely out before diving back in.

Youre finally warmed up enough for him to fuck completely. He pulls on your legs to place over his shoulder as he deepens his thrusts. Your moans are syncing with his, his movements are starting to become jerky again, trying to control himself as much as possible, Kento brings a thumb to circle your clit making you see stars behind your eyelids, when you open your eyes the only thing you can see his him, gripping onto you leg firmly, staring intently at how well you’re taking him, watching himself move in and out of you. He feels you start to grow tighter around him before you can even start to whimper out,

“Fuck, fuck, kento I---aughhh.” you came around him with no warning,the feeling of you pussy spasming and tightening around him is nearly enough for him to lose his own. He releases a deep moan.

“Where can I cum, please baby, fuck where do you want me to cum, i’m so fucking close.” he can feel the sweat dripping down his face, he’s so dangerously close to blowing it inside of you. He wants to so badly, but he needs to hear you want him to.

“Inside, please, inside me, i need you to fill me up, please fuck.”

Music to his fucking ears, he carried on with his thrusts as you continue begging him to cum inside of you. Your wicked tongue is so dangerous, anything you asked of him in this moment he would do, as long as it meant he could stay like this forever. His thrusts grow shorter, faster, more frantic, he’s truly rutting against you, so deseperate for release the only word on his lips is a repetition of “fuck” and your name. It sounds so good coming from him, like he was born to say it. Finally, he lets out a long strangled cry, coming from low in his belly. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as his release covers your inner walls. He thrusts a few more times, emptying himself completely before stilling his movements, still locked inside of you.

Heavy pants fill the room, cutting through the thickened air. Nanami collapses over you, resting his head on your chest, the sound of your heart quickening underneath him cutting a smile into his face. You brush the front of his hair off his head once more, cycling your fingers through the sweat-dampened strands. Contented, satisfied sighs escaped both of you, neither of you spoke, neither of you wanted to, not wanting anything to break up this bliss of this moment.

Morning light dripped through your window curtains, golden rays illuminating his features, the freckles on his cheeks, the soft wrinkles by his eyes, a small scar cut into the arch of one eyebrow. He really was beautiful, you wondered how many people had gotten to see him like this. A man of his stature, his strength, completely unguarded. One of his large hands found yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your fingers, so sweet, so intimate. You really could fall in love with him. Finally, he looked up to face you, eyes catching the light and turning gold, he winced lightly, still feeling the sensitivity of his hangover. You flattened your palm in the path of the sun’s beam, offering his tender eyes solace in the shade. The gesture is short lived as he moves up to press his lips against yours again, his still buried cock shifting and igniting your inner nerves once again. Feeling you begin to tremble, Nanami wills himself to pull out and move onto his back next to you, one large arm wrapping around you, desperate to not be parted from you for even a second. You rest your forehead against the side of his neck snuggling up to his side. His smell fills your nose, the lingering cologne that you first smelled on the club’s crowded floor, mixed with something so uniquely and naturally him. You felt his lips press onto your forehead, arms pulling you tighter to his side.

Kento was the first to break the silence, “would you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

Your lips curve warmly already imagining how handsome he’ll look like in a nice restaurant, candlelight flicking over his face, maybe he’ll even wear his glasses.

“I’d love that.”

Author’s notes:

Okay thank you guys! I hope you enjoyed!I know I did, I know I said it earlie but I haven’t written in forever so I would love to hear some feedback! Don’t be scared, I know I can take it!

it’s up on Ao3 too.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk oneshot #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fem reader #pwp fics #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #jjk gojo #satosugu #but like in the background #geto is alive because I said so #ijichi kiyotaka #smut #nanami smut #kento nanami

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Akaza, Kyojuro, Nakime and Giyuu.

Warnings: language, stalking, yandere tendencies, dirty jokes and mention to sex, mention to drugs, sugar daddy dynamics, attempted murder, sapphic love (temporary one-sided), mention to violence, psychological trauma, mention to murder, death, loss of parents.

Plot: Haunted by nightmares regarding your parents’s death, you wake up early in the morning to attend some classes at University. Your feelings for Muzan are controversial and you find yourself yearning for him after a romantic and unexpected reunion. Back at University, you catch up with some of your friends and, while Muzan claimes to have given you so personal space, you soon find out he could not keep his promise. While the Slayers are attending a meeting, the Moons are watching you and your date night with Muzan will definitely be memorable.

part one| part two| part three| part four| part five| part six| part seven

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FRIENDS.

"Geez, what's happened to you? Are you sick?" Akaza inquired, glancing at you briefly while filling his mug with some coffee.

Maybe you should have put your make-up on, before showing up in the kitchen. Apparently, the shower you had taken had not helped you look better. However, you did not take it personally. You expected to look devasted. The moment you had stepped into the bathroom and switched the lights on, you had grimaced at your reflection in the mirror. You knew it would have happened: it was the same old story, after all.

"I have barely slept, but I am fine. – you said, grabbing your lavender blue mug from the counter – Thanks for asking" you added shortly, joining him on the kitchen island and choosing a croissant from the silvery tray in front of you. You wondered who always went to buy the delicious pastries so early in the morning.

Maybe it was Kokushibo. He was literally a night owl. You had heard him leaving in the middle of the night since you had moved there. Then again, it had been only three days since you had settled down in that house, it could have been a mere coincidence.

Akaza hummed, taking a small sip from his yellowish mug "Muzan's kept you awake all night long, huh?" he teased you, his eyes lazily glancing outside the window, watching the sky turn purple and how some reddish stripes enlightened the still sleeping city below.

You blushed, opting for the basic pastry filled with cherry jam "I don't know what you're talking about, Akaza" you whispered, grasping the coffee pot to pour yourself the right amount of caffeine you needed to make your brain properly function.

You wondered how long it would have taken for you to finally relax and get comfortable with the radical change in your life. Stressful events made the nightmares come back and, while you were used to it, you thought you had somehow found your balance. There was no way in Hell your heart would have forgotten about that tragic night ten years ago, but during the past years you had held on your mental stability to accept that fact that there was nothing you could have done to save your parents.

They had died before your eyes. You tried to bury their screams of agony in the back of your mind and you succeded in it. Despite that, when the nightmares came back, it was hard to pretend you had come to terms with your trauma. The small scar on your right knee was a constant reminder of what had happened.

A soft nudge on your ribs made you flick your gaze up to your interlocutor and, judging by the concerned look on his face, you realized you had dazed off for way too long.

Wonderful, now he probably thought you were crazy.

"Did Douma give you one of his magical pills?" Akaza questioned you, cocking his head to the side, as he attentively inspected your face in search for a proof that you were high.

You rolled your eyes at him and chugged down your coffee, before settling the now empty mug back on the counter "No, he didn't. But, if the pills can chase nightmares away, I'll make sure to ask him to give me some of them" you bluntly replied, eyes downcast not meet his bright, golden ones.

You did not really mean what you had said. You were upset and sarcasm was your defensive coping mechanism. You did not want to startle Akaza and, to be honest, you did not think anything could really leave him bitter, considering who he worked for and what Muzan had probably asked him to do for him.

Now, however, things were kind of getting awkaward between you two and you did not waste any more precious time in making your getaway from the crime scene to ease the tension off.

"I have some classes to attend. See you later" you mumbled, grabbing your croissant and quickly jumping on your feet with a distraught expression plastered on your face. Akaza, obviously, did not fail to notice it and, although you had already turned your back at him to leave the room, he called you out and forced you to halt.

"Y/N, wait a second. – the bodyguard said, hastily wiping his mouth with a napkin and hopping down from his stool too – Do you want to talk about it? I am not a psychologist, but someone told me I am a good listener" he softly stated, an ounce of nostalgia permeating his words. He took you off guard.

While you thought Muzan's flunkies probably tolerated your presence around not to lose their job, there was something in Akaza's words that did not quite match with the idea you had of him and his formal, detached duty of giving assistance to his boss's girlfriend. There was empathy in his voice, there was genuine interest. Despite that, you had never really talked much about your nightmares. There were only a few selected people who knew something about them and, back then, you had been kind of forced to tell them about your problem. The awful amount of times you had waken your friends up with your screams, during your sleepovers, had caused them to get worried and you had no other choice but let them in.

You turned towards Akaza, a tired smile curling your lips "I don't doubt it, but I am the I-fly-solo type of person. I can deal with it. – you said, flicking your gaze up on the black and white clock hung on the wall – I really got to go now. See you later, Akaza!" you added shortly, whipping your head back to corridor and jogging towards your bedroom.

On your way to your sumptuous room, you chewed on the delicious pastry, slowing down your pace as you passed by Muzan's bedroom.

Muzan... Fuck.

A few thoughts popped in your mind as the coffee started taking over you. First and foremost, your legs hurt. Badly. Secondly, you were subconsciously infatuated by him. Thirdly, he was a criminal. Your soon-to-be-husband was a bloody criminal about to rule your Country.

Although he had scared you to death, you still could not quite see past his façade. You could have never forgotten his murderous eyes, when he ran to the parking lot. You could not forget his words, when he had made you understand not to cross lines when he was around. Did he really care about you? Were just a pretty face and a nice body he claimed not to neglect his duties as your boyfriend?

It was overwhelming and the idea of facing him after what had happened yesterday made you wish to evoke the famous black hole to dive in and never come back from.

Pinching the bridge of your nose in distress, you took the last bite of your croissant and proceeded in your march to your bedroom. A certain someone, however, had other plans. You squealed out in surprise, when you felt the door creaking open and a hand wrapping around your wrist. Before you could even protest, Muzan had tugged you in.

He spun you around, your back flattened against the now closed door as he planted his hands on each side of your head, basically caging you between his body and the mahogany surface behind you.

Every single time your eyes met you felt like drowning into a sea of blood, but it was addictive. Therefore, you flicked your gaze up, your droopy eyes meeting his shimmering red ones. You had not realised you were that close. You could count the different shades of red in his irises and you could spot the droplets of water in his dark eyelashes, a clear sign he had just taken his shower.

A shower. Well, shit.

You had no time to elaborate that he was half-naked, his lips locked with yours in a tender kiss almost immediately and he stole your breath from your lungs with expertise. It did not last long, though. It was fleeting, yet strangely gentle. Nothing like the fervent kisses he had blessed you with until now. Yet, you loved it, and when your mouths parted you found yourself yearning for more.

Asking for it, or pulling him down for another one was out of discussion, though.

He grinned down at you, his fingers running through his locks as he scrutinized your face in amusement. Was it really that easy getting you flustered?

"What was that?" you breathed out, fidgeting with your necklace again.

"Hello to you too, love. – he mused, smirking – I thought you were still upset about what had happened yesterday. Giving you a good morning kiss sounded like a good way to make it up to you" he replied casually, taking a step back to let you have some personal space back.

You blushed, chewing on your lower lip not to embarrass yourself further in front of him. Keeping up with his mood swings was exhausting. In moments like these, when sounded spontaneous and romantic, you felt on cloud nine. You wondered if he really meant what he had said, but you had to protect your haert from breaking down.

Guys like him broke hearts easily and you were not going to let him have the privilege to destroy yours.

"Uhm, well... Thank you – you stammered, rubbing the back of your neck in distress – How are you?" you asked him, watching him ambling towards a drawer and pulling out a pair of black boxers from it.

It was right when he he turned back towards you that you finally got a good view of his pectorals and abs. He resembled a god. His chiseled muscles, his V line and even that... What was that? A scar? How did you fail to see it yesterday? It seemed deep, a neat cut scarring his perfect body from the top of his right shoulder and stopping almost in the middle of his chest.

How did he got it? What had happened to him? You really wanted to ask him about it, but you did not want to break the spell he had casted on you two. Moments like that felt real, you enjoyed them.

"Are you staying for the show? – he abruptly snapped you out of your stream of consciousness – I don't mind, really. But, if I'm not mistaken, you have some classes to attend today. Nakime is probably already waiting for you in the car" he stated, a smug smile crossing his lips.

Nakime? Was she the one he had assigned you for the lift at the Campus? Gosh, after what had happened between you two, you would have rather died than been locked in a car with her.

You rolled your eyes at him "Cocky much?" you chimed.

"Very cocky".

You waved your hand at him, twirling around to reach the door and exit his bedroom "See you tonight, Muzzie" you teased him, only to heard him snort at the new nickname you had come up with for him.

"You too, Muzzie's cumbag" he retorted, right when you had got a hold of the doorknob. You shivered, breath hitching in your throat in shock.

Muzzie's what?

"You take that back" you bluntly said, turning around and folding your arms against your chest.

Muzan winked at you "I don't think I will. – he stated, shrugging – After all, it's true. How many times have I spilled my cum into your cunt? Three, right? How long will it take for me to get you pregnant?" he taunted you, watching the way your irritation grew with every word coming from his mouth.

No. No, you were not going to make a scene about it. You were going to play his own game and beat him on it. Giyuu, your best friend, had always praised your ability to corner people with your quick replies.

"Oh, I beg to differ, Muzzie. In order to get me pregnant, you'd need a dick. – you crooned, biting on your lower lip softly – And, if you keep on pissing me off, I'm going to chop it off and throw it at the alligators in Florida. Wouldn't it be crazy? You'd have to ask Kokushibo, or Douma for an heir then. I think the latter wouldn't mind getting me pregnant, you know? See you tonight!" you piped out, winking at an amazed, abashed Muzan staring at you in pure admiration.

When you disappeared behind the door, he grinned, dropping his towel down to the floor to get dressed "I think she's the right one, after all" he murmured at himself.

He wondered if you two were so different as he thought you were.

♚

You were glad Muzan had allowed you to attend your classes without his dogs watching every step you took. Nakime had driven you to the Campus and you had agreed in meeting her later in the morning, after lunch. You expected the car drive to be awkward, but the woman beside you was almost as silent as Kokushibo and you spent your time texting your friends for your usual lunch break together.

Walking out of your last class for the morning, you made your way to the atrium and, when your eyes locked with a piar of ocean blue orbs, you sprinted towards your saturnine friend and involved him into a tight hug. It was good seeing a familiar face. It was good being the only person in the world Giyuu allowed to be hugged by. You were proud of that privilege and today you were enjoying it too much.

"Hi" you mumbled, burying your face onto the crook of his neck.

Giyuu hummed and ran his fingers through your hair gently, allowing you to get your daily dose of cuddles from the non-affective man.

"Hi, snowflake" he said, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

Snowflake. Although some of your close friends knew about the small tatoo on your left wrist, only Giyuu knew about the true meaning behind it. Your parents had given you this nickname because the day you took your first footsteps without their help it was snowing outside.

You giggled, both for the nickname and the loving gesture "Aww, someone is getting a squishy-heart here. – you whispered, craning your neck to take a look at his face – I've missed you" you said, taking a step back from him.

Giyuu sighed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans "I am sorry. I should have called you, but I was out of town. Family problems, you could say" he ranted, staring at his feet.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. – you reassured him, your grip on your briefcase tightening – I do not want to sound rude, but I am pretty hungry. Let's go to grab something to eat and you can fill me up with the news in front of some good ramen" you suggested, a small smile gracing your glossy lips.

Giyuu was about to reply something, when a boisterous voice startled both of you and some other people passing by. You knew exactly who it was without even turning around to see him. He knew how to make you acknowledge his presence, without you noticing him.

"Y/N, it's good to see you!" Kyojuro beamed from behind you, orange and red hues glimmering under the sunlight seeping from the glass rooftop of the building.

You turned around, a hand still settled over your chest as you recovered from the fright he had given you "Kyojuro... It's good to see you too! We were about to go out for lunch, do you perhaps want to join us? It's been a while since we have spent some quality time together" you asked him, only to receive an unexpected reply from your gluttonous friend.

"Thank you for your invitation! But nor me, neither Giyuu can join you! We've got to go in five minutes!" he exclaimed, folding his arms against his toned chest.

You pouted, your eyes darting on your best friend you simply nodded his head apologetically. Were they serious? What was more important than chatching up with a friend?

"Guys, come on, where are you going? Can I come with you then?" you blurted out, frowning in contempt.

"No!" they fretted as one, eyes widened and a nervous smile crossing their faces. How were they supposed to tell you about the secret meeting of the Slayers? It was out of discussion. What were the supposed to say, when their boss was going to plot another plan to kill your future husband?

Ah, yes! Sorry, Y/N, did we mention that you are about to get widowed?

They knew about you, about Muzan. What they did not know was that you had a deal with him.

You narrowed your eyes at them and jabbed your finger at the two men staring at you awkwardly "Assassins are a better company than you two. Bye, bottom-dwellers" you piped out, before marching to the opposite direction they were about to take.

They blinked at you, trying their best not to flinch at your unintentional allusion, watching you take your phone out of the pocket of your ripped jeans and calling someone. Kyojuro stared at you intently, his eyes boring holes on your back for a few seconds, before he finally spoke out.

"She's hot when she's mad!" he declared without any hesitation.

Giyuu choked, his eyes trailed on his friend in surprise and a slight sting of irritation. Did Kyojuro like you? He should have not felt jealousy welling up in his chest. You were not Giyuu's girlfriend, you had always just been friends with him. Now, however, he was asking himself if he had made a mistake in burying his love for you.

"Do you like Y/N?" he inquired, his fists clenching and unclenching down his sides as he awaited for his comrade to reply something.

"I think I do!" Kyojuro frankly admitted, patting on Giyuu's shoulder and encouraging him to take their leave. A hole started to form into the Wave's chest, his eyes dusted with a dredful feeling of defeat. However, as they exited the University, Giyuu tensed. He felt someone watching them, he felt more than a set of eyes focusing on them, studying each and every move they made.

And you felt the same. You felt someone watching you as you ate your meal alone on a bench, as you went to the toilet, to the library to do some researches and, when you grabbed a book from a shelf, you realized that effectively you had been watched this whole time.

Maybe Muzan had not kept his promise. How could he let his innocent girl strolling down the Campus without his bodyguard following her, if she was hanging out with the Slayers?

You sucked in a breath, the book you had grabbed slipping from your fingers and colliding with the floor with a dull thud, as your wary eyes locked with a lilac one through the empty spot on the shelf.

It was the first time you got to see her eyes and you were surprised to note that she probably could not see from her right eye: a black eye patch covered it, giving her a even deadlier look than what you had been imagining during your convivence at the Kibutsuji manor. What was she doing there?

"Nakime! What the Hell are you doing here?" you quipped, kneeling down to pick up the heavy tome laying at your feet. Did she just decide to stalk you on her own accord, or was it just another order from Muzan? You really needed to have a chit-chat with him later.

The brunette circled the bookshelf, until she was standing right in front of you "Protecting you, miss L/N. Isn't it obvious?" she stated casually, cocking her head to the side at your apparent frivolous question.

You sighed and were about to retort something, when you heard the keeper clearing her throat to draw your attention. Whipping your head towards her, you saw the woman gesturing for you to lower your voices and you bowed your head at her apologetically.

Nakime, on the other hand, had an irk mark popping on her forehead and, in your peripheral, you saw her reaching for something underneath her thigh. Flashes of the first time you met played before your eyes, as you remembered what she always brought with her. You gawked in shock, suddenly shoving her against the bookshelf, your hand blocking her wrist down in the desperate attempt to save the old woman for being slashed by the feral brunette.

"Nakime, Jesus, what are you doing?! She's not the enemy!" you hissed, eyes round as she easily overpowered you and flipped your position over.

You gasped as your back hit the shelves behind you and she held your hands up above your head "Y/N-sama, this woman disrespected you. You do not need to apologize to anyone. Muzan-sama said no one should ever make you bend the knee" she asserted, making your lips part in disbelief.

Why was he so overprotective of you? You were not even a real couple. Additionally, it was in your nature being polite.

"Well, I am the soon to be First Lady and, if I'm not mistaken, my opinion matters! I don't want you to hurt anyone, alright?" you fired back, earning an apologetic look by her. She blushed, her grip on your wrists loosened, as she hesitantly flicked her gaze down at your bodies. You had not even realized your proximity, until you followed her gaze and your breath hitched in your throat.

"Uhm... N-Nakime?" you whispered, earning a bashful glance from her. Why did you always end up in awakward situations with her?

"Yes, miss L/N?".

"Could you please let me go?" you quietly asked her.

The brunette took a step back, eyes downcast as she nodded her head at you "I'm sorry! I apologize. – she muttered, clenching her fists down her sides – Can I ask you something personal, miss?" she added then, scanning the area around you as if to make sure you were safe from prying eyes.

You massaged your wrists, a small smile tugging the angles of your lips upwards slightly "Of course, Nakime. – you chimed, leaning against the bookshelf to collect yourself – And, please, just call me Y/N. There's so need to call me by my surname and apologize profusely" you stated, watching her straightening her back and blushing even more at your words.

"This is going to be hard for me, but I'll do my best. – she stammered, flicking her gaze up to meet your bright eyes – Are you, by any chance, bisexual? Because I would very much like to entertain you, when Muzan-sama cannot do it" she said, making you clamp your mouth shut in embarrassment and palming your forehead in discomfort.

Nakime was going to be the death of you. Did her blushes mean that she fancied you?

You were about to answer her question, when your phone buzzed once, twice, thrice and you were forced to check your phone. As you had imagined, the texts were all from your demanding lover.

MUZAN: I've just made a bank transfer on your bank account. I hope 10.000$ are enough.

MUZAN: I have asked Akaza to leave a box on your bed. I want you to wear what's inside for tonight.

MUZAN: Also, I hope you are down for something different. Perhaps painful, even I apologize ahead of time... But I feel experimental today.

Muzan Kibutsuji was impossible to deal with. You huffed and slumped down to the floor, resting your forehead on top of your knees "Nakime, if you wish to shower me in affection, it would be a good time to hug me right now" you bewailed, batting your eyes close to prepare yourself for what was yet to come.

And as you were about to live an extrasensorial experience with Mr. Kibutsuji, a group of people were polishing their swords as they waited for their Master to grace them with his presence.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there!

Once again, I would love to express my gratitude to my faithful audience for the support you are showing me both on here and Wattpad. You are amazing! If you have noticed, I’m probably going to make Y/N bisexual. I’m still debating, though!Also, I thought I was going to post my Kyojuro one-shot earlier, but I didn’t like it lmao. Have a little patience!

I hope you have enjoyed the chapter and I take the chance to announce that I have decided to open requests for Headcanons… So, submit them!

X O X O

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhasslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf

#muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer #muzan kibutsuji #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan smut #douma #kny au #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x you #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #nakime #nakime x reader #akaza #akaza x reader #kokushibo

[grey-pastels]

Names

Fandom: Six of Crows

pairing: platonic! Kaz brekker x reader

summary: reader is set on finding out what kaz' name is.

_________________________________________

It was ten bells and the night was just getting started. This might have been a quiet time in any place but not here,not in ketterdam,not in the barrell.

I was currently leading Jesper back to the crow club after having to basically pry the cards from his hands. I had found him in one of the gambling dens,as usual. And he was losing,as usual. Normally I would've just sat next to him,letting him do his thing. But tonight I wasn't in the mood for it. I really didn't want to deal with the speech Kaz would have about him losing all the money again. He would most certainly still hold one but I was just hoping it wouldn't take 10 minutes this time. As we entered the crow club I spotted him sitting in a dark corner,his corner. He glared at us, his usual unamused glare or maybe it was just how his face was stuck by now. When Jesper spotted him he immediately looked away and made a beeline for the bar. I did not. I walked towards him and sat down. I was waiting for him to speak,but of course he didn't. He was waiting for something. Maybe an apology or maybe a simple explanation. I would not give him that,not today. If he wanted it he could ask for it nicely and I might just comply.

"Fancy seeing you here,kazper" I said mockingly.

He was staring at me. He hated it. Ever since I joined the dregs, approximately 3 years ago I had started bothering him with these nicknames. To me it just seemed improbable for someone to name their kid Kaz. I have met jespers and even inejs before. Not many but they existed. So I have made it my goal to get his name. Not for the reason others might want it. I didn't want leverage on him or his past. I just wanted him,to know him. He was a walking mystery to everyone, but not to me. I have tried many names over the years. My personal favourites include kazzie, kazper and kazpian. He didn't show a hint of emotion other than annoyance when I said them so I presumed they weren't right.

He stood up and walked up the stairs. He walked rather fast despite his limp so I had a relatively hard time keeping up. He didn't say anything yet but that didn't stop me. I followed him to his room.  When I closed the door of his office he stood alarmingly close to me. Something Kaz never does. He seemed irritated,by me.

"Why are you so set on knowing my name?"

"Well for starters,kazstration. you know mine. You know me and I know you would never admit to it but i am the closest thing to a friend you have. I am aware inej and jesper are there too but it's different with us. Inej is your faith and jesper your- well actually I am not sure what he is to you"

" You are my crow, an investment. You all are. Not more nor less"

"I don't believe that"

He leaned his head to the side in disbelief. He always hated how stubborn and blunt I can be. I would never change it. It was one of my many talents to help annoy people, annoy him especially. When we first became acquaintances he had said " if you keep that up you won't survive long in the barrel and even shorter in the dregs" I simply smiled at him and continued with my day. Three years later I was still alive and he still disagreed with my ways.

"You are my family,kaz" he almost laughed at that. And  I realised what I had said. It wasnt the fact that I called him my brother, I meant that and I wasn't ashamed of it. But it was the first time I had called him kaz in years. I am not sure why I had done it but it felt right. I needed him to see I was serious and it wasn't another joke.

He kept quiet after that. I didn't expect him to say it back. I didn't need him to. I slightly pressed my palm against his shoulder,shoving him gently out of my way. I could hear his breath hitch for a second but he calmed himself rather fast. I was aware of his aversion to touch and I did my best to avoid physical contact. But now I just needed space and I didn't have the nerve to communicate it. Why would I need to speak my thoughts when he never does? I turned around and opened the door to leave. Before I fully shut it again I spoke up again. "You won't get rid of me, not of my energy either. And one day your gonna have to admit it. Speak the truth. Say that you like me around and perhaps admit it to her aswell,she isn't as patient as me with you and i dont blame her" I didn't need to speak her name, he knew. He always did. " I will see you tomorrow, Kazimir" he made a noise. I shut the door and I was sure I had it. I had his name. I had him.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kazzle dazzle #kaz rietveld #six of crows #soc #shadow and bone #crooked kingdom #kaz #kaz brekker oneshot #oneshot #platonic reader #fanfic #fanfiction #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #wylan hendriks #inej ghafa #nina zenik #matthias helvar #kit young #freddy carter

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

first day as the envoy of Yan, and i have a brilliant, amazing, fool-proof plan to assassinate the warmongering tyrant of Qin. I've got the head of a famous general inside a box, a poison dagger hidden inside a map and my backup is ruthless murderer who killed a man at age 13. mark my words, this day will go down in history!

update: my backup got cold feet and became catatonic with fear the moment we set foot in the palace. i quickly spun a story about him being a country bumpkin who was suffering culture shock but now the guards are suspicious and i have to approach the throne room alone--well, mostly alone. Oh, General-Inside-A-Box, we're really in it now.

update: the Warmonger laughed at my joke! i am going to get a good evaluation for regicide, which is normal to want and possible to achieve.

update: it's time to present the map. my palms are sweaty, knees weak and this scroll feels so heavy. i regret eating so much of my niang's dalu mian beforehand because someone didn't put enough salt inside this box and the general (heaven rest his brave soul) is starting to smell and to be honest it's making me a little nauseous. the fear rises in my gullet, strong and acrid, threatening to choke me, but i force it down and put on a brave front, like a swan on a tranquil lake, kicking like mad underneath. this is my one opportunity and i cannot let it slip away. Yan too small to meet the might of this tyrant in open battle. for the sake of my people and all that i love, i must prevail.

update: i missed.

update: i am now chasing the Warmonger around the throne room. he cant unsheathe his Hugely Impractical Ceremonial Sword and none of his ministers are permitted to carry weapons so they just stand on the sidelines yelling advice. eventually the court physician comes to his senses and throws his medicine bag at me, giving the Warmonger an opening to finally get his sword out and cut me down. i throw my knife at him (also missed) as a final act of defiance but frankly speaking, there's not much face left to salvage here. when i enter the afterlife, the general is laughing so hard his head almost falls off again. i am never going to live this down.

update: I go down in history as a hero and one of the Five Great Assassins. really makes you wonder about the other four.

update: oh my god! my best friend is here too! what a sight for sore eyes, i can't wait to catch up and play some tunes with him!

notes under the cut:

The story takes place in 228 BC, the King of Qin is in the middle of a brutal war of conquest. In the span of just ten years (In 230--221 BC) he will unify china and become the first Emperor (the terracotta warriors belong to him). He will go down in history as both a cruel tyrant and brilliant statesman, to call him influential is to say the Yangtze river is "just a big puddle."

Jing ke -- (the assassin) originally hails from the state of Wei, which was conquered by Qin, afterwards he became a retainer of Yan and joined the plot to seek revenge. I simplified the story a lot for the sake of narrative clarity.

General Huan Yi -- former general of Qin who lost favour with the King. In an absolute bro move, he agreed to commit suicide and let his head be used as a "gift" for the assassination attempt. I couldn't find any sources on how severed heads were preserved during this time, but drying + curing with salt seemed pretty reasonable so i went with that.

yes, i did just combine the Second Century Warlord with Eminem to create an unholy abomination that is the deepest of deep cuts. 娘 Niáng -- [Mum] considered archaic 打卤面 Dǎ lǔ miàn--braised noodles

Jing Ke's buddy Gao Jianli (who is a famous musician) ALSO tries to kill King Qin to avenge his friend's death. He was recognised and blinded before his first attempt, but was allowed to stay. During this time, he ingratiated himself with the king and hid weights inside his instrument, biding his time until he could get close enough to take a swing (spoiler: he also missed).

#jing ke #qin shi huang #history meme #ancient china #chinese history #fuck ups make it into the annals of history jot that down #jing ke livetweets his botched assassination attempt posthumerously. uh. deathtweets ig. #my writing

[havecourage-darling]

What You Meant To Me // Eddie Munson

I saw this on @creativepromptsforwriting and IMMEDIATELY thought of Eddie.

Prompt: Person A is a famous celebrity who is being stalked by someone. Their team doesn’t want to make it obvious that they hired a bodyguard, but to explain why Person B would be with Person A all the time, they act like they are Person A’s new lover.

exes to strangers to bodyguard to ???? || Masterlist || AO3

tags: Mayfield! Adopted Female Reader, angsty bitches, running from Big Feelings™, Rockstar! Eddie, Post S4, ten years later, canon compliant, light smut at the end, implied sexual content, bodyguard reader  

///

“YOU’VE got to be shitting me,” Eddie said, eyes going to Robin. “Buckley-”’

“It’s out of my hands Munson,” she said, crossing her arms, “besides, this isn’t a joke. This is the fourth time these people have tried something.”

Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s just a couple of fans! This is ridiculous. The guys aren’t getting some person following them around.”

“The guys didn’t come back to their home and find a girl naked in their bed-”

“-that’s a gross simplification-”

“She had a knife, Eddie,” Robin snapped, her voice shaking. Eddie glanced up at his friend and manager. She glanced around the room to the rest of his publicity team. “Can you guys give us a moment?”

Eddie watched Robin’s hand tremble just slightly as the rest of the interns, managers, and coordinators filed out the room – Mike shot him a sympathetic look before closing the door behind him.

“I am assigning you a bodyguard for around the clock watch until the end of the tour,” she started, explaining the process and how it’ll be from now on.

Groaning, Eddie let his head loll to the side and watched as Robin continued, ignoring him like the professional she was.

He had to give it to her – she wasn’t wrong per say. He was starting to get major mental instability vibes from these two. It was always the same couple – a man and a woman who sent him unnerving amounts of fan mail about how God had sent them a message that he was meant to join them in a throuple. All he had wanted to do was play guitar for a living, now he had clinically insane people breaking into his apartment and taking fucking naps in his hotel room.

There was a small part of him, a very small part, that was a little relieved. It was extremely unsettling to have people be so obsessed with any morsel of information that they could find about you. Eddie had fought hard to have a peaceful life and he didn’t relish in feeling the need to look over his shoulder every two seconds again.

A sharp thwack to his head had him stumbling out his thoughts. “Ouch! Robin!” He hissed, rubbing his ear.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Honestly, no,” Eddie admitted. “All I heard was you’re getting an undercover bodyguard and she’ll pretend to be your girlfriend so you’re not stabbed to death in some ritual. This person is going to have to be following after me every second of the day – that’s…you know how I feel about new people in our circle.”

Robin sighed, shooting him a knowing look. “I know you all value your privacy and it’s my job to help protect that. But we still have two months left on this leg of the tour. They keep fucking finding you and we have no idea how. The security the label keeps sending is baffled at how they’re doing it – we don’t need a professional, we need an expert.”

“Robin-”

“I didn’t help carry you out of that hellhole and keep you from bleeding out on Harrington’s seats for you to get stabbed on me now,” Robin said softly, her eyes betraying her anxiety. Eddie sighed. Jesus Christ, she’d pulled out the big guns. “International dates go on sale at the end of this month – you four are just going to get more popular at this rate. The rest of this leg is officially sold out; this is what happens when you’re good, Munson – you’re famous now. Everything is changing. We need to take precautions.”

The pain in his temple took another jab at him. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along and be part of a happy couple or whatever.”

Robin grinned and he sighed. “Great. I’ve already called a company and they’re sending their best employee over tomorrow. We’ll meet her at nine, sharp. Do not be late.”

“Tomorrow?” Eddie sputtered. Wasn’t the point of this meeting to get his approval?

She shot him a look as she stood and walked to the door. “I’m sorry, did you think you were in charge here? You signed a losing deal the day you agreed to let me be your manager Munson. Suck it up, Buttercup. You got yourself a bodyguard.”

///

You hated being left in the dark.

The whole nature of your job – your profession – was to know everything at every moment. You were hypervigilant; a side effect of being a pseudo monster hunter for a good chunk of your childhood.

So, when Hopper called you up for a special assignment, you found it odd that he’d refused to give you any details. There was no file, no briefing, no notes for you to have any idea on what this assignment was about. He said they needed an experienced female agent, that it was very under wraps, and they were currently in Atlanta for the next two days - which what a coincidence, there you were. You’d been closing out the paperwork on your previous assignment – the youngest daughter of a senator – when he’d called.

Not one to shy away from a challenge, but not liking the secrecy, you had asked Hopper to assign it to someone else. You had a few years of experience on Johnson but you’d trained her yourself – she wouldn’t let anyone down.

“It has to be you, Mayfield,” Hopper said, voice tinny like it always was when he called from Hawkins. “Do it for me.”

Hopper never called in favors. Never. So, you were both interested and mildly disgruntled as you rode up a fancy glass elevator into a massive building. It was clear they – whoever they were – had money and needed discretion. But that wasn’t new to you.

By the sight of the rented office, your guess was either musician or a writer.

You had barely put a foot out the elevator when a blur of dark blonde hair slammed into you. It was only the familiar sound of someone screaming your name that kept you from body slamming her into the floor next to you.

“Robin?” You asked incredulously. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you in-”

“Years? Three to be exact,” she said, squeezing you once more before stepping back and shooting you a knowing look. “Once you get running, you really don’t stop do you?”

You rolled your eyes at the jab. You had a standing weekly phone call with Robin and Harrington, the three of you adamant on not losing touch despite the fact that two of you travelled so often. Wait, the reason Robin hadn’t been around to meet up was because she’d become…

Straightening, you barely controlled the scowl on your face. “I’m going to kill Hopper.”

Completely unbothered, Robin linked her arm through yours. “If we told you – you wouldn’t have come. I don’t know why you two avoid each other like the plague but it needs to be you. We need someone we can trust. Please, just hear us out?”

“Robin,” you groaned.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious.”

At that, you perked up. She was right, she didn’t know – no one knew – what had happened between you two but she had always been respectful of the boundaries you’d set. No matter how stupid. So, if she was asking, it was important.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out,” you promised, rolling your eyes when she grinned like she’d already won.

Who were you kidding? You’d do anything for Robin – for any of them. It was part of the trauma bond at this point. Without giving you a chance to change your mind, Robin led you down a hall and into a massive conference room.

You squinted at the brightness, the entire room looked like it was made from glass, the view of downtown Atlanta impressive and beautiful. As your eyes adjusted, you knew that no amount of preparation or notes would’ve prepared you for the sight of Eddie Munson.

It’d been ten years and your heart still jumped up at his presence.

His dark gaze was on yours immediately and it brought you back to the last time you’d seen him. He’d been cleared of all charges and given the green light to go home. You’d walked in on him while he was adjusting to walking again, torso littered with bandages. You’d gone to tell him you were leaving and you’d never forget the look in his eyes-

“Mayfield!”

You found yourself in the middle of a group hug, one led by Gareth – someone you’d actually seen in the past few years. Jeff was at your side while Liam and Mike were squishing themselves in the best they could.

“Hey boys,” you said, not able to keep your laugh down. “It’s been a long time.”

“I saw you two months ago,” Mike said and you watched Eddie’s eyes narrow at that.

Jeff snorted. “It’s been a good handful of years for me. Last I saw of you, you were kicking someone’s ass on Hollywood Boulevard.”

“In my defense-”

“- they started it,” Jeff and Liam chorused.

You grinned, happy to be around people who you knew so well. People that knew you – before…before it all went to shit. They all herded you over to the table, sitting you down next to Robin.

Eddie, across the table nodded. “Mayfield.”

“Munson,” you said, just as detached.

“This is going to be fun,” Gareth whispered.

Eddie shot him a withering glare and you decided to be the only adult in the room and ignored them all.

“This is our plan,” Robin said, sliding you the thick file.

With a grimace, you pulled a pair of glasses from your small purse and shot Jeff a pointed look when he giggled.

“Didn’t know you wore glasses,” Robin said, her own teasing smile growing.

“I usually wear contacts but today was supposed to be my day off,” you said, pointedly, and shrugged. “I only need them at night or when I’m tired. I – well, Harrington and I had one too many concussions it seems.”

Robin and Mike nodded, sympathetic and understanding. Eddie, however, stilled.  

“So, what do you think? I put together the plan after the most recent incident.

“Who’s seen this?” You asked.

Robin glanced at the band and Mike. “Everyone in this room.”

“That’s it?”

She nodded. “I don’t know how they keep getting to them – obviously Eddie’s is the more dire but, I’m keeping my cards close.”

Distracted by the most recent bout of disturbing fan mail, you nodded. The words ‘FAKE GIRLFRIEND, UNDERCOVER’ blared at you. Grip tightening on the file, you frowned. You couldn’t be his girlfriend – it wasn’t…surely at this point it wasn’t ethical. You both hadn’t been around each other since you packed up, wrapped your little sister in metaphorical bubble wrap, and got the hell out of Hawkins. You were about to tell Robin that you couldn’t do it, that your subordinate would be more than capable – when you saw Eddie’s statement.

Officer F. Jacobs: What happened after that?

E. Munson: Nothing happened, I ran out of there and called the fucking cops. This is so violating; she was in my house man! She touched my shit. I don’t know if anything is missing or if he did anything to my stuff – this is the third time I’ve found them. I just want to be left alone.

Your chest tightened at the crime scene photos, clearly of Eddie’s apartment with the front doorknob unscrewed from its hinge. You’d clearly taken too long to respond because Robin had launched into a pitch on how they really needed your help.

“It pays really well!” She added on, her brows jumping up when you shot her a look. “Mayfield, please-”

Eddie straightened. “She clearly doesn’t want to do it, Robin, just let her-”

Fucking shit, you cursed. You might’ve left Hawkins behind but your loyalty to this group ran deep and you knew that Hopper knew that.

“I’ll do it,” you said, interrupting the growing fight between Robin and Eddie. Silence fell, everyone’s eyes swinging around to you. “I’ll need to fly back to Headquarters – whatever. I can do it I just need a few hours to get everything in order. I need a schedule of every single stop you have from here until the end of the tour.”

“That file is your copy, the only copy, and it has all the information you’ll need,” Robin said, looking delighted.

“Uh, wait-” Eddie sputtered but you all ignored him.

“The proposal here indicates that you want our office to completely overhaul your security protocol?” You asked, blinking down at the text in your hands. “Are you sure? What about the record label?”

Robin’s eyes flashed. “They’re clearly incompetent and if we’re going to be spending money, I want to spend it on people I trust.”

“They’re willing to foot the bill? For an overhaul? And my tailing him for two months?”

Nodding, Robin crossed her arms. “Corroded Coffin has had a very sudden and very quick rise to popularity. Six songs from their second album are on the top one hundred charts. It’s only going to grow from there. We’ve officially sold out the remainder of this tour and will likely sell out the international one. Anyone we have on staff now is trustworthy because they’ve grown with us. The security the label keeps sending are idiots and I don’t trust them.”

You sighed, trying to work out who was on roster back in Los Angeles. “Well, we don’t specify in full team security, I’ll tell you that. We’re a small company and we work internationally – there’s only about five I can call from California on hand now. Everyone else is on assignment. Shit, half of us are scattered around western Europe. Actually, make that four because I need to assign someone to the jobs I now can’t take. I do…know people who can lend a helping hand though. People you can trust,” you assured her.

Hares Security was not the biggest company but in the past ten years you’d been able to cultivate a loyal list of clients. Hopper started the private security firm a few years after the…earthquake. He hadn’t wanted to return to public service and being a cop was all he knew. He’d offered you a job straight out of college and had been grooming you to take over as head of the company for when he’d go into retirement.

You knew he needed someone he could trust to keep everything afloat since he’d started bouncing between Hawkins, California, and Rhode Island – where Will was a master’s student at the Rhode Island School of Design.

Jesus, this was an entire overhaul of their system. Not that they had a good one in place to start with. From the looks of it, the security team that had been assigned to them were all inexperienced and practically useless. Some had mall experience. Who the hell hired these people?

“Okay, I’ll sound the alarm and we’ll have people incoming in the next twenty-four hours. I need to talk to Hopper though and let him know what I’ve got in mind. Is this the hotel you’re all staying at?” You asked, brows rising at the fancy hotel downtown.

Robin’s head bobbed. “They’ve got some recording to do this afternoon but we’ll be there by eight for an early night. We have an morning flight to New York City.”

“Alright,” you said, standing and tucking the file under your arm. You reached out to ruffle Mike’s hair – smiling when he grumbled. “I’m going to make some calls, fly back home and gather the arsenal. I’ll see you all in New York.”

Pointedly ignoring Eddie’s stare, you pressed a quick kiss to Robin’s head and walked out the room.

The doors to the elevator had barely closed when you pulled out your StarTAC and aggressively punched in Hopper’s number.

“Hey kiddo.”

You scowled, hoping he could hear it. “This was low. Even for you.”

“I see you’ve found out the details of your new assignment.”

“How do you know I’ve even taken it? What if I’m reassigning it to Johnson?”

“Because it’s you. You never do things half-assed.”

Fucking fuck, you hated how well Hopper knew you sometimes. “This is wildly unprofessional.”

“So is my favoritism to you but you never complain about that.”

You sputtered and growled when his tinny laugh echoed through your phone. “Asshole.”

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell happened with Munson but they need your help. Help I know only you can give. If you really want out, let me know and I’ll fly down there myself.”

Jesus, this really was bad if Hopper himself was willing to sub in.

“I can do it,” you said, mildly insulted, “I’m a professional unlike some people.”

“Right,” he said, tone amused.

Rolling your eyes, you cradled the phone between your shoulder and stalked out the lobby. “This is going to be a major lift, Hop, I’m going to need all hands-on deck and outsource some general security. People we can trust and maybe some military experience for some of the larger concerts. This is…gonna be a lot.”

“Fly out whoever you need to. Buckley and the suit at the label assured me that there’s no limit. You know where to find me if you need me.”

Rubbing the headache blooming at your temples, you shut your phone and sighed. You could do this. You could protect and be Eddie’s security detail. You were a goddamn professional.

///

“I can’t believe you got Henderson to fly out for cyber security,” Robin said, watching from the lighting control stage as Gareth let Dustin mess around on the drums.

You bit back a smile when you saw Jeff wrap him up in a headlock. Immature children, all of them. “They all owe me favors until the day I kick it,” you said, turning to her, “including you.”

“Hey!”

“Besides, NASA’s headquarters is in D.C., that’s a short train ride. Dustin’s the best at this stuff, whatever he comes up with has been Suzie approved and between the two of them any holes you have in any virtual world will be covered.”

Footsteps alerted you to someone approaching. “Mayfield?” A familiar voice called out. You turned to see Johnson approaching you, clipboard in hand.

“Everything set?”

“Yes. Julian’s team should be here shortly and we’ll help them familiarize themselves with the venue,” she said, handing over the clipboard.

Glancing down at your checklist, you were pleased to see that the small team you’d assembled had already covered a lot of ground. Yang had even sent someone ahead to the Texas venue to scout out any major possible issues.

“Good job Johnson,” you said, watching as she stood up a little straighter, “you’ve got all the angles covered. I’m placing you in charge of anything I can’t get ahold of while I’m on personal security. You’ve got my number, call me if anything comes up.”

“Sure boss,” she said, jetting off towards the loading dock.

You could practically feel Robin’s grin. “Just say it,” you sighed.

“I knew you were practically the head of the company, it’s just so different to see it in action. You’re someone’s boss,” Robin said.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to her. “You’re the manager of one of the biggest bands at the moment, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Uh no, you have like – a gun,” she whispered, “you’re like a karate master or something. I still trip over their mic wires sometimes.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a black belt in Judo, not Karate and I distinctly remember all three of us in blue sailor uniforms serving ice cream at Starcourt. Once you’ve been humbled that profoundly, there’s no coming back.”

“That’s true,” Robin snorted, bumping her shoulder with yours. “So, you ready for the next two months?”

“Nope, but I’m here anyway.”

“And that’s why I love you the most,” Robin said, ducking when you reached out to whack her.

///

No amount of warning or prepping could’ve prepared you for being alone with Eddie for the first time, in a decade.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, eyes apologetic. “I didn’t know if you’d accept and there were no rooms left available at the hotel. I was going to try to move us to downtown but our flight is after the show – it’s only a few hours-”

Stopping her increasingly frantic stumbling, you’d grabbed her hands and assured her that you could make do for the night. She almost folded under the gratitude and swore you’d always have the requested adjoining room from now on.

“Alright, see you two tomorrow,” Gareth said, swiping his card to the room and disappearing through it.

Eddie cleared his throat and you sighed. Okay, you could be the mature one if you needed to be. Holding out your hand, Eddie blinked at you. “What?”

“Give me the card.”

His brow quirked. “I can open the door on my own.”

“I know, smartass, I need to do a sweep of the room before you go in,” you said, “did you read the file I gave you?”

Eddie crossed his arms defensively. “I- it was a big file!”

Biting back a laugh, not wanting to encourage the bad behavior, you wiggled your hand again and he sighed. Opening the room, you shoot him a death stare when he went to step behind you. Sticking his hands up, he stood by the door as you made your way through the sitting room, the bathroom, the closet, and the bedroom.

“It’s clear,” you told him, ducking to double check under the bed. Eddie walked in, eyes zeroing in on your shoulder piece as you stood back up.

“Is that a gun?” His voice squeaked towards the end.

Nodding, you made way towards the sitting room and plopped down onto the sofa. “I don’t usually carry one but your situation is a bit different.”

“Enough to warrant a gun?”

Your eyes shot to his and you crossed your arms. “I’m head of your security and these people squirmed their way in with a knife, Eddie. What about that are you not understanding?”

Eddie grumbled something inaudible.

“Is it because I’m a girl or because I’m…me?”

His eyes raised to yours and he shook his head. “Neither,” he said adamantly, “you’ve always – even back then – you…you never liked bullies.” He made his way over to his duffel bag and grabbed a handful of clothes. Hesitating by the bathroom, he turned to you and you waved a hand.

“You can take the bathroom first,” you assured him, “I’m going to confirm everything is set for our ride to JFK.”

By the time you’d confirmed everything for tomorrow, showered, and had your nightly tea, you were exhausted. Eddie popped out from the bathroom, smelling like mint, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from dropping to his now bare arms.

The scars were clearly old, healed, but they were still visible enough for you to see from your position on the floor. Guilt roared in your chest and a lump settled in your throat.

“What are you doing?” He asked, feet coming to a stop by your head.

“I’m getting ready for bed?” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow from the makeshift bed you’d made from extra pillows and some of the couch cushions.

“That’s on the floor,” he said, glancing at the bed, “you can just take-”

“Eddie.”

“-you can’t just sleep on the floor-”

“Eddie…”

“-you have a bad shoulder, I remember. Besides you can’t always guard me from the floor-”

“Eddie!” You watched his jaw snap closed and you nodded towards the bed. “Listen, after this one time we’ll have adjoining rooms – that we’ll need to keep open – but I promise not to ruin your love life or whatever. I’ve done this for years now. I know how to make myself scarce and as unintrusive as possible so my clients don’t feel like their lives are turned around.”

You watched in fascination as his skin turned a violent shade of red. “That’s – I don’t – I wouldn’t – I’m not-” he stuttered, hands flailing around.

“Right, you’re the only celibate rockstar in the industry,” you said, goading him. Eddie’s flailing increased as he tried to explain what he meant.

A pang of nostalgia shot through you as he stammered through his explanation poorly. Money, fame, music aside – it was comforting to see that even after all these years, Eddie was still Eddie.

His stammering stopped as he saw your smile and he rolled his eyes. “You little shit.”

“How dare you,” you said, fluffing up your pillow, glad that some of the ice between you two had cracked. Like it or not, you were going to be his shadow for the next two months.

“You were fucking with me,” he said, gaping. “I – Mayfield.”

“Go to sleep, we’ll be up in five hours anyway to start the interviews then we’re on a flight to Texas,” you told him, gently nudging him away with your hand. He stumbled, as if burned, and hesitatingly sat on the bed.

“Are you sure-”

“Ed’,” you said, the old nickname rolling off your tongue, “go to sleep. I’ve slept in worst places than a four-star hotel’s floor.”

His brows rose, shock flittering across his expression before settling. “Yeah?”

You nodded, turning onto your side so the door was in your sight. “Last year I was on a team for a minor royal, she had no qualms about who was present during her sexual escapades.”

Eddie laughed and your stomach fluttered. Shutting your eyes tightly, you beat the sudden rise of emotion back into submission.

You were going to kill Hopper when this was over.

///

Late night talk shows were the worst, you decided. Anxiety ricocheting as the studio’s security argued with your team behind you.

Forgetting that you were playing a part, you’d almost stepped in when the security guard shouted at Johnson. Forcing yourself to smile and walk in with the band, you reminded yourself to take a few more undercover assignments in the future – your skills were getting rusty.

“You don’t at all look like you want to murder someone,” Mike said, stepping up next to you from the wings of the stage.

“Is it that obvious?”

Mike snorted. “I don’t think you’ve taken your eyes off of him from the moment we got in.”

“They’re being stubborn. Doesn’t all talent have their own security team?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder and watching Johnson hold her own. “What’s the issue with us? Besides, I’ve counted like three massive holes in their system.”

“Calm down Terminator,” he said, bumping your shoulder. Eddie’s laughter drew your attention back to him as the audio assistant set him up with a mic and explained how the cues were going to go.

The boys were on the second stage to the left, assuring themselves that their equipment had all arrived unscathed and were tuned to perfection.

“Hey, Boss!” You turned towards your newly acquired nickname – thanks to Jeff who had refused to listen to you until you’d let him know you were the boss. You were never living it down – and saw Eddie waving you over.

“This is uh, my girlfriend,” Eddie said, introducing you to Conan O’Brien.

You stepped forward, smile settled in your features, and shook his hand. Coming to Eddie’s side, you mumbled, “you’re a natural,” as Conan settled into his chair.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“You call your girlfriend Boss?” Conan joked. “That’s either really smart or sarcastic enough to earn me a slap.”

Smiling and stepping forward, you cross your arms playfully. “He knows who’s in charge,” you winked. Eating it up, Conan guffawed.

Eddie grumbled awkwardly behind you and you smacked his shoulder with the back of your hand. “Besides, he brings me everywhere – we can’t live without each other, right pumpkin?”

“Right,” he said dryly.

Conan began talking about his own girlfriend, sitting in the green room backstage, when something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Your instinct won and you turned to find a woman with blonde hair running straight to you. Without much thought, your training kicked in and before anyone could step in, you had her on her stomach with a knee to her back.

“Eddie! Eddie! I love you!” She screamed, hysterically crying despite the pressure you applied to her spine. Jesus, she had a set of lungs on her. You were impressed.

A portly man shuffled forward, his eyes wide as saucers, “Uh, Miss, I can take it from here.”

“Oh,” you remembered, eyes darting up to Eddie’s. His brown eyes were dilated, mouth gaping a little, and he was frozen. Stumbling at his reaction, you tried to dust yourself off and shot a bewildered Conan a grin. “Sorry about that!”

“That’s some form you’ve got there!” Conan exclaimed, hands going up. “Man, the Giants could sure use some defense like you.” His eyes darted down your figure and you fought the urge to roll your eyes when a warm hand came across your shoulders.

“Yeah, she’s something alright,” Eddie said, pulling you into his side. “I’m lucky to have her.”

Message clearly received, you shot up a surprised look and let yourself be ushered off stage by a PA. Robin had arrived, standing there with an impressed glint in her eyes.

“Shut up,” you muttered at her.

She held her hands up, her suit moving with her, “I didn’t say anything!”

“Are you okay?” You spun around and almost stumbled into Eddie, his hands coming out to steady you.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry – it was instinct. I didn’t mean – I shouldn’t have hit her so hard,” you said, feeling weirdly off kilter.

Eddie scratched the back of his head, a sign you knew was a habit for when he was feeling uncomfortable. “It’s okay. I just, was worried you – uh, for you,” he said, stilted.

“For fuck’s sake,” Robin said, blowing air out of her lips, “you two are so awkward it’s actually painful. You’re not strangers, you were friends at some point, just pop the goddamn elephant you two have in the room and get over it. Nothing about this, screams romance.”

With a dramatic hair flip and a roll of his eyes, Eddie ignored her, shot you another look, and walked off when you’d nodded.

Robin sighed. “Jesus, it’s like we’re in high school all over again. I can’t deal with the tension a second time around Mayfield, I can’t.” She continued to grumble but you kept your eyes on Eddie as he climbed up the sound stage and settled his guitar over his shoulder.

Robin’s words echoed in your mind - you were friends at some point.

Your history with Eddie Munson was a little more complicated than most knew. Eddie had been your friend but he’d been more than your friend. He was your almost.

The first few chords rung through the stage and everyone in the audience went wild. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek. “Hello New York City! I’m guessing by the sound of that you know what song we’re going to play. Don’t be shy now, sing along!”

Now and then I think of when we were together

Like when you said you felt so happy you could die

Like the best kind of torture, you watched Eddie’s fingers wrap around the mic, his eyes sliding closed.

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness

Like resignation to the end, always the end

You’d heard the song, because of course you had you didn’t live under a rock. Hearing it live, however, cut a little deeper than your stereo at home. At least at home you could have a drink in hand.

But you didn't have to cut me off

Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing

And I don't even need your love

But you treat me like a stranger, and that feels so rough

Robin’s eyes slid to you and they felt like two honing signals. You didn’t want to watch anything dawn on her – you hadn’t made it this far to fall apart now. Not over a song.

“I’m going to go wait in the green room, okay?” Robin nodded, her eyes following you as you left.

Now you're just somebody that I used to know

///

The flight to Texas had been long and after the day you’d had – you were dead on your feet. But, because the universe didn’t know how ever give you a break, you found yourself doing a sweep of Eddie’s hotel room before herding him inside.

Gareth’s room had needed sudden repairs and while he’d offered up to bunk with Jeff – you’d given him your adjoining room. It was only for a night, his room would be available tomorrow morning, and you knew that being close to the client was never a bad thing.

You’d shower in the morning, unable to think of more than just brushing your teeth and falling face first into your pillow. Especially considering that you had an early wake up call to go take a look at the new venue.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, watching you settle into the sofa in the makeshift sitting room. This one was actually big enough that you could use as a bed for the night – it was a step up from the floor.

Not this again. “Munson, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie scowled and you felt your pulse jump. “It’s a California king mattress Mayfield, just get up here.”

“No,” you said, stubbornly.

Sighing, Eddie flopped onto the bed and you thought that would be the end of it until – “We’ve slept in the same bed before. One much smaller than this. In a trailer park. For months. Get your ass up here.”

“Eddie-”

“I saw you twinge. I know your back probably hurts from that defensive tackle.”

Eye twitching at the memories of you curled around Eddie in his small bedroom, you sat up. “What do you know about sports?”

“It’s been ten years,” he said, deadpan.

“Tigers don’t change their stripes.”

“For fuck’s sake – just get up here,” he groaned, flopping back down onto the pillow.

The twinge in your shoulder screamed for the softness of the bed but your mind was telling you this was a bad idea. It didn’t matter that you’d shared beds before – this was still a client.

“I know how to keep my hands to myself,” he said, tone defensive.

“Oh my God,” you scowled, despite knowing that he was playing you. You got up and padded over to the other side of the – admittedly – huge bed. “Fine!”

Grinning Eddie revealed a small heating pad. “I asked the front desk to have one sent up. It helps me with my shoulder too. After a while they get sore from performing so often,” he said, handing it over a little sheepishly.

Completely bowled over and shocked, you reached for it and arranged it onto your sore shoulder. The heat immediately soothed the surface ache and you smiled at him. “Thank you,” you said.

Awkward, and a little embarrassed with your earnest tone, the two of you broke eye contact.

“I’ll shut off the lights,” Eddie mumbled, hauling himself out and returning once the room had gone dark.

Two minutes in you knew there was no way either of you were going to get any sleep with the tension as thick as it was.

Put your big girl pants on, you shouted at yourself. But your tongue felt stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Robin’s right,” Eddie said, breaking the silence first.

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, we should…talk about it?”

There was a beat of silence before Eddie exhaled. “I wrote that song a long, long time ago. I was in a different head space and of course, it became one of our hits from the debut album.”

Shutting your eyes, you realized you had finally gotten the answer to a question you didn’t know you’d even wanted an answer for.

“It’s okay,” you said, because it was.

Eddie continued, a hand shooting up in the air, illuminated by the soft moonlight. “I just needed a way to cope with your absence and-”

You reached out, touching his hand softly. “You’re a great songwriter, Eddie. I would never hold that against you.”

“Oh,” he breathed, a small sigh coming out after. “Thanks.”

It seemed that even after all these years, you still knew Eddie well enough. “Just ask me,” you said softly into the silence.

“Why?” He asked eventually.

“Why what?”

“Why was I the only one who you avoided? When you left…you said you needed to get out and I tried really hard not to feel like I was being abandoned but, after a few years everyone seemed to reconnect with you. Except for me.”

Turning onto your side to face him, you watched him turn his head towards you – eyes incredibly sad.

“I didn’t, at least not purposefully,” you admitted. “When we left, I hid away. I left my mom and Max and buried myself in school. I became a shell of a person, I-I’m not proud of things I did but I was in survival mode. I started studying to become a psychologist and that was my life for four years. As horrible as it sounds, I didn’t really reach out to everyone else. They found me - they forced me back into being a human. They searched me out and once I was back among the living it felt like it’d been too long to just pick up where we had left off. How did I start to apologize for just leaving like that?”

Eddie smiled sadly at you. “I understand, in a way. We weren’t exactly easy to find either, you in California and me traveling around with the guys. I…I asked Steve once,” he admitted, “I knew you’d given me an abbreviated story about what had happened before ’86. After he told me, I wasn’t as mad, I was just…sad. You really undersold the story in that little shack.”

“I’m not belittling what we’ve been through, what you’ve been through, but Vecna was my fourth round,” you said, breathing unsteady, “so many people died. Barb…she hurt the most. I could tell Billy’s death had cut Max deeper than she was letting on.”

Eddie’s hand came up to yours and you realized you were shaking.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. I stayed in that town after everything, after Billy, and I know it’s not an excuse but it feels like Hawkins is cursed. I saw you on the floor, in Dustin’s lap, and my world just crumbled.”

His eyes softened. “Sweetheart…”

“We took you to the hospital and I sat there for days going back and forth between your room and Max’s. I just – I couldn’t let that town take anyone else from me. I wouldn’t survive it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I let so much time go by before I woke up. I’m sorry I didn’t push my way back into your life like I should’ve.”

Shaking his head, Eddie’s hand squeezed yours. “I’m sorry for not trying harder. For not seeing how deeply you hurt and only focusing on my own.”

Despite your restraint, you felt tears burn your eyes. “We made a mess of it.”

“Yeah, but even messes can be beautiful in their own way.”

Because of course he’d say the right thing. The ice around you two cracked and more pieces fell to the waiting ocean below. Eyes slipping closed, you had a brief burst of relief in your chest.

Which was promptly stomped upon when your alarm jerked you awake a few hours later. Lifting your arm, you patted around the night table until you hit something warm.

“Ouch,” Eddie grunted, “turn it off.”

Lifting your head, confused, last night came back to you in a rush. Glancing down, you realized that the pressure around your waist was Eddie’s arm. You were tucked into his chest, your legs tangled, and head tucked under his chin. The same way you used to when you’d climb in through his window in the trailer park. Like no time had passed. Then you were suddenly aware of another insistent pressure on your waist.

“Turn it off,” Eddie grumbled again, voice muffled by your hair.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, “I need you to let me go.”

Eddie’s grip tightened before it immediately disappeared and you both flung yourselves to opposite ends of the bed.

“I’m sorry – uh, oh shit,” he tumbled off the bed, popping up awkwardly. “I’m just going – I’m – I need a shower. Right. Okay.”

You watched him scurry into the ensuite and dropped your head back down to the bed, groaning. You knew you should’ve slept on the fucking floor.

So much for less awkward.

///

Robin cornered you both during rehearsals.

“What is this?” She said, smacking a magazine down. There, on a spread in the pages, were you and Eddie looking like you barely knew each other.

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

“It’s been a week since they’ve known about me,” you huffed, looking through the poor pictures of you. “How could they know? Oh look, it says we’ve been dating for two years. Apparently, sources say you met me at a coffee shop. How quaint.”

Eddie grunted, eyes darting across the pages.

“Yeah, and who the hell is going to believe that with you two looking like you’d rather be dead?” Robin exclaimed.

“That feels like an exaggerated statement, and that’s coming from me,” Eddie said, frowning.

Robin’s hands came out to snatch the magazine from under your noses. You flinched and Eddie’s hand came up to steady you. “We need to stage some shots. You’ll need to go on a date. Something under the radar, cute, ‘they’re just like us’ type of thing.”

“I am technically just like them,” you pointed out to deaf ears. Eddie’s hand squeezed your shoulder and his small smile made your chest tighten.

“Don’t you think that’s a little gross? Staging shots?” Eddie asked.

“That’s how we get ahead of this. We control the narrative. There’s something else too – this was mailed to the office,” Robin said, clearing her throat. She placed a large manila envelope down and you sorted through it.

“Oh!” You said, straightening, “it’s hate-mail!”

Eddie’s brows flew up. “And you’re happy about that?”

“It means we’re doing something right,” you hummed, looking at the crude images and chunks of hair taped to the letter. “Robin might be right. We should do this and see if we aggravate them further.”

“Are you insane?”

You frowned. “It’s how people get caught. They get sloppy and besides you’ll be safe – I’m here all the time,” you assured him. “We haven’t had any incidents so far these past two weeks.”

“That’s true!” Robin said, perking up. “I’ve seen her decapitate an interdimensional superpowered human. Two regular humans should be easy for her.”

The memory of your machete going straight through Vecna’s neck flashed through your mind and you frowned.

“I’m not afraid for me – oh my God, you two are insufferable,” Eddie muttered, walking off towards the audio guy who was waving him down.

“Jeez, what’s up his butt?” You grumbled, looking through the mail and pointedly ignoring Robin’s knowing smile.

///

He hated to admit that Robin was right. Eddie would never actually say it out loud – she’d never let him forget it. But…the photos looked good. Eddie flipped the page and the image of you with your head thrown back making him smile.

“I feel like we should be laughing, isn’t everyone in those tabloids always laughing?”

Eddie snorted. “Did you need me to tell you a joke?”

“I can fake laugh, look,” you chortled, laugh sounding horrendously fake even to his ears. Eddie couldn’t help but actually laugh at your attempt.

“That was bad,” he said between laughter.

You grinned; Jesus did your smile make his heart sing. “Made you laugh though.”

The both of you had agreed to go for ice cream in downtown Dallas. You’d tossed your arms around him, practically touching him at every opportunity, and Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to try and lie about how it made him feel.

In fact, everything about your arrival had him feeling like he’d been turned upside down. It’d been painfully awkward at first, it still was sometimes, but you were both slowly learning how to be around each other again. And Eddie wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing in the long run. Or if he was just setting himself up to be hurt again.

The last photo, one where you were reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth, made him smile. His eyes were on you and even he could see that you both looked like a couple very much in love.

“They look good,” Gareth said, leaning against the doorframe. Eddie slammed the magazine shut and straightened. “Well now, that wasn’t suspicious at all.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, rubbing a hand down his face. “It was set up; you know it was.”

“Riiight.”

“Gareth.”

He laughed. “Dude, it’s me. I’ve known you since I was a freshman in high school. You can’t lie to me. I was there when you met her. She was in my class originally remember? She’s my friend too.”

You had been – that’s how he’d met you. Gareth had failed history junior year and his teacher had assigned him you at the beginning of senior year for tutoring. As cliché as it sounded, you had taken one look at him and he was gone. You were so nice to him, to all of his friends, and repeatedly defended anyone in Hellfire against bullies.

Dustin had mentioned you before – Mike usually rode home with you – but he just hadn’t really noticed you. He couldn’t fathom how because it’d taken one offer for you to come out to the Hide Out and your friendship had all but solidified.

There was rarely a day Eddie wasn’t attached to your hip. Sometimes, it’d felt like he was your shadow, following you around like a lost puppy.

He knew he loved you on Halloween. It was a wonder that it took him so long. You’d told him that you loved him on Valentine’s Day. He still had the card you’d handed to him, flustered and shy. His heart felt like it was going to beat out his chest that day.

There were things he didn’t understand - before everything exploded during spring break – like the times you’d sneak into his trailer, tears in your eyes and panic shaking your body. He’d assumed that you just had nightmares after the fire at Starcourt since you had been in there when it burned. You hadn’t like to talk about but, he quickly found out why.  

Eddie had tried his best to be comforting, to be a safe space, and for a moment – a brief moment, he’d thought that you were his future.

Then Vecna had stolen that from him too.

In hindsight, he should’ve known better. He’d cut the rope in the trailer that night because he knew you needed time to kill him. He’d done it for you. Because he couldn’t run away when he didn’t know if you were safe or not. Even if that had been what caused you to run after, he didn’t regret it. Not even in the winter when the scars and his joints hurt the most.

But…he missed you. He’d forgotten that. Forgotten how easy it was with you – how much he wanted to breathe you in and follow you around like that lost nineteen-year-old. There were things he knew about you, whether or not they were still true, that he didn’t know what to do with.

Eddie knew that you liked to have tea before bed. He knew that you liked your coffee with an ungodly amount of sugar. That you thought waffles were superior to pancakes. Your order at the diner was etched into his memory, alongside the way you were ticklish on the soft part of your thighs. The fact that you were a good daughter but an even better sister.

He knew the noises you made when he sucked on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck. He knew that you liked to take charge, never one to be bowled over. He knew just how to twist his fingers, where to touch, to get you to scream. He knew that you liked to pull his hair, that it drove you crazy when he tied it up in a bun.

But he also knew that the sounds of your sobs echoed, the ones that haunted his dreams, while he tried to claw his way through the darkness back to you. He knew what you looked like, begging him to forgive you for not being able to stay while he was still attached to monitors at the hospital. He knew that you’d loved him, once upon a time, and that it’d hurt more than he thought possible to have it taken away.

“I’m scared,” Eddie said, thoughts jumbling together, “what if I get used to her being back?”

Gareth nodded. “That could happen.”

“I don’t – I-” Eddie sighed.

“Listen, she ran after those earthquakes and you let her go. This was something that fell apart that you both let fall. You’re adults now – you’re both grown-ups, ugh,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought, “you gotta decide on what you want. Once you figure that out, you’ll know what to do. But…don’t jerk her around. She wasn’t doing good for a while and this is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. She’s settled now and she deserves to be at peace Eddie, so do you frankly.”

Before Eddie could even think of a response, let alone soak that in, Robin popped her head in the door.

“Hey! You have the magazine! What do you think?”

Eddie stood up and shrugged. “Looks good to me.”

“Right? I’m a genius! We should do a few more once we land in Chicago, to keep up pretenses,” she said, tapping her chin. “We’ve gotten a ton of fan mail for her. A few job opportunities too, apparently people like her style.”

Of course, they did. Because everyone loved you. How could they not?

“Munson? Gareth? We’re ready for you two. We need to do a final sound check.”

Gareth shot him a look and Eddie sighed again. “Let’s do it.”

As the four of them walk towards the stage, Eddie spotted a few of your team members securing the hallways. Smiling at the woman who never went anywhere without her earpiece or clipboard, Eddie wondered how you two had met.

As if summoned, Eddie caught sight of you as you spoke to one of the outsourced security teams. Julian? He faintly remembered you mentioning a second, much larger, security firm lending a hand. You were pointing at the doors to your left and the man nodded, attention solely on you. Eddie could relate. His eyes wandered down, your jeans tightly curving around your hips-

“Eddie!”

Eddie blinked, turning towards Jeff who was staring at him worriedly. “What?” He said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“He asked if you were ready,” Gareth said from his spot behind the drums, fingers twirling a drumstick while his eyes were light with laughter.

Eddie glared at him before nodding at Jeff. “Sorry man, I’m ready. Want to start off from the last song?”

.

Pacing the length of the green room, Eddie tried his best to calm his nerves.

“You alright man?” Jeff asked, eyeing him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before a concert.”

“Uh,” Eddie said smartly, not sure how to word that he wasn’t really nervous about performing – more like he was nervous about the fact that this was the first night since you’d joined that he’d be performing that song. It was stupid, he was sure you’d heard it before and he’d gotten away with excluding it for the last few concerts but, it was popular enough that it couldn’t be ignored forever.

Gareth snorted at his indecision. “She’s never heard him sing Got Away,” Gareth said. Eddie whipped his head around and Gareth rolled his eyes. “Dude, they were there while you two pretended not to be obsessed with each other. They’re here now while you two awkwardly try to pretend like you’re not staring at the other. We’re metalheads, not blind.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Anyone can see you both have it bad for each other.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie said.

“Sure,” Liam said, chuckling from his place on the couch, “and I’m Ozzy Osbourne.”

Eddie stood up, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. “For my own sanity, just for this performance, can we please drop it?”

Jeff, ever the mediator, nodded but Eddie watched Gareth quirk a brow and shake his head. “The more you ignore it, the worst it’s going to be later.”

“I’m sure she’s heard it anyway,” Liam said, “at this point she’s gotta know you wrote most of that album about her anyway. Most of downtown Hawkins knows.”

“Jesus, remember the songs that fall?” Gareth snorted. “He made that girl in the audience cry.”

Eddie hated how well his bandmates knew him sometimes.

The PA from earlier knocked on the door. “We’re ready for you guys!”

Jumping at the chance, Eddie hurried out the door. He shook his arms out, hooking his guitar around his chest and nodded. It was just another concert.

The sound of fans chanting made him smile. Grabbing the mic handed to him by the audio guy, he caught sight of you on the other end of the stage. You waved, giving him a thumbs up and Eddie hated the fact that it did something to his chest. He shot you a smile before bringing the mic up to his lips.

“Hello Dallas!”

The roar of the crowd drowned out all his thoughts. The curtains dropped, the audience screamed louder, and Eddie reveled in the energy.

“We’re going to start you off with a crowd favorite, is that alright?”

Glancing back at Gareth, he nodded once before raising his drumsticks into the air.

At the first chords, the crowd went wild. Focusing on the audience, Eddie managed to keep his eyes forward, and voice steady for most of the song.

We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world

In another life, I would make you stay

So I don't have to say you were the one that got away

The one that got away

As the bridge approached, Eddie couldn’t help but give into his urge, eyes swinging around to you. He wasn’t prepared for the way you were already looking at him, eyes wide and awed. Your hands were intertwined, pressed up against your chin. At the sight of his glance, you smiled a small little sad thing that had his own heart stuttering.

All this money can't buy me a time machine, no

Can't replace you with a million rings, no

I should've told you what you meant to me, whoa

'Cause now I pay the price

Dragging his eyes back to the crowd, ignoring the pang in his chest, he let the last chorus fade and picked right back up with the next song.

///

You were mildly embarrassed at how quickly, and in such a short amount of time, you got used to being in Eddie’s presence again. You might even go so far as to say that in the rare moment you found yourself without him, you felt a little off.

It was mortifying really. You were a professional and all it took was one assignment to ruin your spotless record. Just barely four weeks into this detail and you were incredibly used to him being the first person you saw in the mornings and the last before bed.

In your incredibly weak defense, there was something intimate about being part of someone’s daily routine. It’s something you taught everyone who joined the firm. There’s bound to be a connection to the people you’re protecting. No matter how short the time, it’s only human to grow attached. It’s a major factor into why your clientele was so loyal. Most of your jobs were reoccurring or past clients. You’d created a bond with all of yours, and you’d hoped – desperately – that it wouldn’t happen here. Honestly, you should’ve known better.

“Is this necessary? We were just here,” Eddie said, yawning from the door.

You got down on your knees and lifted the bed skirt. Flashing your light, you confirmed that the room was clear. When you didn’t immediately hear Eddie’s footsteps, you turned to glance at him from over your shoulder. He shuffled in, eyes on the ground, cheeks pink.

“Fucking hell, is it only eight? Why am I so tired?” Eddie groaned, flopping onto his bed. You perched yourself at the furthest edge, massaging your bad knee and rolling your eyes.

“Because you’re nearly thirty and traveling across the country is exhausting?”

Eddie lifted his head and glared at you. “Don’t you ever mention my descent into death again.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly dramatic?”

“Once, a girl I knew from high school,” he joked when you shot him a look. “She was wrong, obviously. I’m a completely rational person. If anything, I underreact.”

“Wow,” you said, deadpan.

“What?”

“I’ve never met someone so delusional – oomph,” you grunted as a small pillow hit your shoulder.

Eddie groaned as he sat up. “I’m hungry,” he grumbled, reaching out to check the messages on the hotel phone.

“Me too,” you chimed, already thinking of places you could order from. Eddie seemed fond of the burgers from yesterday. They’d also been cleared by Michaels and Yang as a safe spot to order from for the duration of your stay.

“Robin says we’re all cleared for the night,” Eddie stood suddenly, letting the phone drop back down to the receiver. “I say we go out for dinner.”

“What?” You balked. “We have an early call time; I think our flight is at eight to Chicago.”

Eddie rounded the bed, placing his hands on his knees and bending down to your height. “Come on Mayfield, live a little.”

“It’s not safe – I’d need another person with me. Maybe Johnson is still awake? Maybe a man would look better? What if you’re recognized-” Eddie lifted a hand, his eyes going wide and pleading.

“Come on, boss, live a little. We’ll go somewhere nearby. I’ll wear a disguise! Look,” he said, pointing to the hotel’s massive windows. “The beach is right there! We haven’t, and won’t, get a chance to see it if we don’t go now.”

“We never get the chance to see anything in any city,” you said, brows raising. “It’s just a beach.”

“Mayfield.”

Feeling yourself give a little, you sighed. “What kind of disguise?”

Eddie grinned, one that you knew meant he knew that he was winning you over. “We’re in Miami, trust me – it’s easier to hide in a bigger city.” He hesitated for a moment before gathering his curls into a ponytail, wrapping it around the base, a high bun sat at the top of his head.

Something incredibly close to butterflies, but felt more like velociraptors, roared away in your stomach. Shit, you’d forgotten how good he looked with his hair up. Eddie glanced at you quickly before stuffing his hair under a baseball cap. Pushing a pair of sunglasses onto his face, he opened his arms and did a twirl.

“It’s night out, only weirdos wear sunglasses at night,” you said, laughing when he snorted.

“It’s Miami.”

You laughed. “Alright, fine, you win. I’m bringing back-up though,” you said, going to the safe and grabbing your handgun.

“Do you really need to bring that?” Eddie frowned.

“Eddie, I’m here for your protection,” you stressed, not liking it either. “There are literal deranged fanatics trying to kill you.”

He sighed but relented as you placed it in its holder and pulled a hoodie over it. “What if they just want an autograph? They could be completely rational people.”

“Someone sent me a package last week that we had to scan for explosives, Edward,” you said, opening the door.

Shrugging, he relented. “You know, sometimes you’re right.”

“Sometimes? More like all the times. Hey, no detours, okay?”

Eddie crossed his heart and held up four fingers. “Scout’s honor!”

“You were never a scout and they use their right hand to salute. It’s also three fingers not four,” you said, watching Eddie smirk as the elevator took you both down to the lobby.

Skin itching at the busy streets, you kept alert and vigilant. Eddie’s elbow bumped into yours and you frowned. “Come on, loosen up a little, we’re fine,” Eddie said, tugging his hat on lower.

“For now,” you muttered, sticking your hands into your pockets.

“You’re just a ray of sunshine,” Eddie said, leading you towards the pizzeria at the corner. “Has anyone told you that?”

Raising a brow, you watched him hold the door open for a couple and ushered you in. “You know what I do for a living, right?”

“One cheese pie to go please,” Eddie said, placing a few bills on the counter.

“To go?” You said. “Thought you wanted to live a little?”

Eddie smiled at your imitation of him. “We are, we’re gonna eat on the boardwalk.”

“Eddie,” you groaned. At least a restaurant had less variables you needed to watch over.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, thanking the cashier as he handed over the pizza box, “we’re going.”

The beach was visible from the pizzeria. You could smell the saltwater – hear the ocean crashing into the shore. “Eddie-”

“Oh, come on,” he said, grabbing your hand and tugging you forward. Your skin tingled and at the sight of a few people eyeing Eddie curiously, you intertwined your fingers together. He blinked down at your hands, shooting you a surprised look. Darting your eyes to the attention you were getting; Eddie nodded and pulled your joined hands closer as he pulled you under his arm.

This close to him, your sides bumping as you walked, you got hit face first with his scent. It hadn’t changed much since you’d last been this close to him. Woodsy, a bit minty, and something uniquely Eddie.

Smoke, you realized, he didn’t smell like cigarettes anymore. Now that you realized, you hadn’t seen him smoke at all.

“Did you quit smoking?” You asked.

Eddie smiled. “I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said, “yeah, a long time ago now. When we still lived in Hawkins.”

“Really,” you said, raising your brows. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he said, sitting down cross-legged on the wooden bench facing the water. Despite the crowded streets, it seemed that the beach was mostly empty. A couple to the far left were walking away from you, two little specks in the distance. “Since you asked a question, do I get to ask one back?”

You picked up your slice and nodded. “Twenty questions?” You asked around a mouthful.

Eddie nodded, swallowing his own bite. “Do you still talk to everyone from home?”

“I didn’t have many friends outside the party,” you said, surprised that that was his first question. “Not after Will disappeared. I – I don’t regularly keep up with most of our friends either. Robin, Steve and I have a weekly phone call where I mostly listen to them bicker-” Eddie laughed and nodded.

“That sounds like them.”

You shrugged. “Aside from El, Max, and Lucas – I don’t speak to anyone else that often. Hopper, obviously, but Will is off doing his own things. Being adults,” you said, shooting him a look, “Will’s stuff is beautiful. I managed to catch his last gallery and he sent me my favorite piece in the mail. It hangs in my living room and I love it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, looking out to the ocean. “He’s really good.”

“Dustin is busy being a literal genius and Mike, well, is-”

“-usually around me?” He finished for you.

Smiling sheepishly, you nodded. “Gareth is the only one I called semi-regularly. He sends me postcards from wherever you guys are, you know?”

“I didn’t, the little shit,” he said, frowning. “I guess it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one.”

“The only one what?”

“The only one left out,” he said with a self-deprecating smile that just about broke your heart. Before you the shards could surface, Eddie stood and dusted the crumbs off his shirt. “Want to take a walk?”

Lump in your throat growing, you nodded.

“It’s your turn,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. With a quick glance around, you slipped your flats off and let your toes dig into the sand. Feeling a little more calibrated, you let your gaze fall to the push and pull of the ocean.

“When did you know things were changing for the better with the band?” You asked, betraying the tiny piece of you that craved answers and the small details of the time you’d missed.

Eddie smiled. “The first time someone recognized me on the street. We’d been doing a lot of opening acts for moderately known bands on tour. We generated enough interest that we started working on a debut album. I was writing a ton and our label decided to give us a very tentative shot. We were out for some food and this guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin.” Eddie mimed his head exploding and you grin.

“I would’ve paid to have seen your face,” you said, bumping your elbow with his, “you guys deserve it.”

“Thanks,” he said, ducking his head like he wasn’t an international rockstar at this point. “How did you get into security? Last I remember, you wanted to be a teacher but you studied psychology?”

You shrugged, memories bubbling to the surface. “I think Hopper just found me at the right time. I was so…angry all the time. I’d shifted from sad to just pissed off – even Max steered clear of me for a while. I needed an outlet, so my roommate pushed me to tag along to her self-defense class. It was Krav Maga and I learned how to take someone down that day. It felt exhilarating.”

Eddie snickered. “Only you’d get excited about violence sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” you said, flustered, “the point is, I’d started picking up a few things and the instructor asked if I’d ever considered Judo. I said no, I didn’t really have the time, but I went to a class once a week for a year. I think, I was just fed up with feeling helpless. I’d watched so many of our friends fight for their lives, I wanted to feel like…well, like I had some sort of control I guess.”

“That makes sense, given the circumstances,” Eddie said, looking pensive. “Wanting control in a situation where you felt like you had none.”

“Exactly!” You said, smacking his shoulder excitedly. Eddie shot you a grin and you stumbled. “Well, Hopper found me right as I was graduating. He’d just started his company and needed help. I went from a class a week to four a week and a boatload of training. I helped scout some people and it went off from there.”

Eddie smiled at you, the moonlight casting a shimmer to his skin. “Who would’ve thought, Mayfield, a professional ass-kicker,” you shoved him and he laughed, the sound shooting down your spine. “It suits you though, you look happy.”

“I am,” you said, shrugging, “at least with my career. I’ve been in some tight situations but the people I’ve saved or protected, they’re all great people. It’s thrilling really.”

“I can imagine.”

A question bounced around your mind, reminiscent of an old conversation with Steve, and you pushed yourself to ask. “Who was your first after…after I left?”

Eddie stumbled and you instinctively reached out to steady him. “Jeez, Mayfield, you really choose the hard hitters.”

Mortified, you straightened. “Sorry, you don’t have to-”

“No, no, it’s fine. We…we were friends for longer than we were anything else. Even after everything, after all the years, you can always ask me anything. Time and complicated feelings don’t change the fact that we were friends. We are friends.”

“Yeah?” You asked, both embarrassed at the earnest tone in your voice and pleased.

And for the first time since you’d seen each other, without any cameras present, Eddie pulled you into his arms. He hooked his chin over your shoulder and exhaled. “Yeah. We might be the weirdest, most complicated friends to exist, but what we went through was too strong to be destroyed by something as finnicky as time.”

Embarrassed by the sudden pressure behind your eyes, you squeezed Eddie tightly. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” You wondered if the words would ever be enough.

“I’m sorry too.” After a minute, you both stepped back and continued walking forward. “And to answer your question – her name was Emily. She was, predictably, your complete opposite. It took a while but she was good for me.”

“What happened?” You asked.

Eddie shrugged, a flicker of regret flashing through his expression. “A whole mix of things. Our schedule was starting to pick up and in the early days we had to go where the shows were. You know how that goes, so much time away – she couldn’t always come with, and I don’t know. We just fell apart. Can I tell you a secret though?”

“Always.”

“I was going to propose the week we broke up,” Eddie laughed and you stared at him incredulously. “No, really. It’s crazy how a week can change your entire life. Well, I learned that years ago but, it’s old news by now.”

“That sucks,” you sighed, surprised by the complete lack of jealousy you felt. It really did suck; you’d gone through enough break ups to know they always hurt.

“What about you?”

You bit back a smile. “What about me?”

Eddie groaned and waved a hand in the air. “Come on, don’t make me drag it out of you.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, glancing back out to the water, “I…didn’t really have one serious relationship. Robin says she thinks I run from commitment but it’s deeper than that. I have a whole chunk of myself that’s permanently changed because of what I’ve been through. How do you cultivate something without sharing that?”

“You should, you know, share it,” Eddie said.

“I know but, no one felt right,” you sighed. “Steve’s favorite is this financial guy I dated for three months. He actually proposed to me.”

Eddie sputtered; expression shocked. “After three months? Did he even know you?”

“Hey!”

“Mayfield, we met the first week of our senior year and it took us almost the entire year to confess that we liked each other,” Eddie said, laughing when you balked.

“Yeah, and I was the one who confessed first! You don’t get any credit for that!”

Hands out, placating, he agreed. “You’re right, you’re right – sorry, continue.”

Stopping at a nearby boulder, Eddie plopped down and you followed suit. “It’s your turn,” you said softly, not wanting to break the easy mood you both had created.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t ever ask you this,” Eddie said, mouth twisting, “but it’s been eating at me. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

The familiar inky grip of guilt tightened in your chest and you struggled to breathe through it. “Because Wayne was in Hawkins. He had a really good job there and everyone else stayed behind. The kids still finished out school, Robin went to college nearby, you needed that. Look, it took me years of therapy to realize this but, you needed to heal through your support system. They were there, in Hawkins. I needed to heal by finally creating distance. If you would’ve asked me to stay, I would’ve,” the admission was torn from your mouth before you could stop it.

Eddie’s surprise eclipsed his face. At his silence, you swallowed around the lump in your throat.

“I would’ve ended up resenting you for it. My sister almost died. She still has a limp, you know? She tries to hide it but I know her bones ache and there are scars that time won’t ever heal. We all have ghosts but I couldn’t keep living in the same house as mine. I knew you deserved more than a broken girl who would’ve turned into a broken woman.”

“I think I knew that on some level, it was just always easier to be the wounded one,” Eddie admitted.

“I don’t blame you for however you needed to cope,” you said, reaching out for his hand, “we do what we need to, to survive. Eventually though, life needs to be more than just surviving and you’re doing that.”

Eddie’s fingers trailed across your palm, tickling your skin and you sighed. “You do have the makings of a good shrink you know.”

“I know,” you said, laughing when he shot you a look. “Tell me a secret.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Will you tell me a secret?”

He huffed a soft laugh and nodded. “I kept the card you gave me that Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his words almost drowned out by the waves, “it’s in my apartment in New York but, it’s in a box next to my diploma and other important stuff. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.” Pulling one of his hands from yours, he pulled one of his necklaces out from under his collar and your eyes zeroed in on the red guitar pick.

“I can’t believe you still have that,” you said, fingers reaching out to touch the warm plastic. Eddie’s inhale was sharp and you immediately brought your hand back.

“I wear it on the days I feel like I need an extra bit of courage,” he admitted.

You smiled, a little confused. “What?”

“Don’t you know?” Eddie asked, tilting his head back, eyes knowing. “You’re the bravest person I know, Mayfield.” The wind blew his bangs around his temples, the hair whipping from beneath the cap. “I wear it when I feel like I need to borrow some of that bravery.”

The intimacy of the admission made you shiver. Your skin brimming to the edge with the words, Eddie’s eyes betraying his accidental vulnerability.

Not one to be outdone, you tried to even the playing field. “I kept one of your Hellfire t-shirts. I wear it when I need comfort. It’s soft as shit and reminds me of happier times. My neighbor even knows I wear it when I feel like crap. It just…helps after one of those days where just about everything goes wrong, you know?”

“Yeah, boss, I know,” he said, gazes catching. Something you couldn’t decipher shifted in his eyes and you felt those damn velociraptors flutter awake. “We’re a mess,” he said, repeating your words from that second night.

“We’re definitely something,” you said, smiling when he snorted. You both watched the water for a few minutes, the line between ocean and sky blurred.

“We…we could’ve had something right? It wasn’t just me? I think about it sometimes, get lost in my own head about whether I’ve imagined our connection. If the depth of us was just one-sided or if we ever really had anything at all.”

Your chest hurt at the sound of his voice wavering, but you kept your eyes on the missing horizon as you answered. “Yeah. We could’ve. We’re an almost and those hurt more than tangible things sometimes. Because you know that if it had the right environment, it would’ve bloomed into the best flower out of the bunch. And you…you, Eddie Munson, are the best, most painful kind of almost.”

“That’s a new one,” Eddie said, eyes burning into you. “I went to see you once. At the California office.”

“What?” You said, shocked.

“You weren’t there. You were on some assignment in New York, ironically. Hopper said it was for some pianist?”

Ah, George Shearing.

“I saw Max though – she’d just started college and swore she could teach me to surf in weekend,” he laughed, stuck in the memory, “I told her not to tell you. I took it as a sign – we could only try so many times, you know?”

You hadn’t known that he’d tried to see you – that if you’d only just delayed that trip for a week you would have.

“Are those songs about me? I don’t want to be that girl who assumes but, I’d always wondered,” you admitted, not able to bring yourself to look at him.

In your peripheral, you watched Eddie smile with a relieved sort of expression. “All my good songs are about you, Mayfield. How could they not be? You’re seared into my memory, into who I am now.” He stood after that, dusting his pants off, and offered his hand. “If we’re an almost, then you’re my favorite almost.”

Taking the offered hand, you let him haul you back to your feet. “You’re my favorite almost, too.”

Eddie grinned, the unhindered, wild grin that you remembered. “It seems we’ve made a habit of having all our serious conversations by a beach,” he said.

Where the hell was he? You frowned, checking the time. Digging your toes further into the sand, you sighed and watched the lake ripple as a duck landed onto the surface. A flash of bright lights had you scrambling to your feet.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Eddie said, tripping out his van. “I – had a shift at the shop run late, someone brought their shitty mustang in and then I was trying to find any store that was open, but of course none were, I mean - whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

Confused at the speed of his words, you watched him walk over to you. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sorry. I got your, uh, gift,” Eddie said, words stumbling over each other. You heart leapt into your throat and your eyes immediately dropped to your feet.

“And?”

A soft finger at your chin tilted your face back up to his. His eyes were molten in the moonlight, wide and curious. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Eddie smiled half-heartedly, recognizing your teasing. “Are you going to make me say it?”

Nodding, you bit the inside of your cheek and tried to drudge up every bit of your courage.

“Do you…do you really love me?” Eddie’s voice cracked and your stomach fluttered dangerously at it.

“Yeah, I think I have for a while now,” you admitted. “I know we haven’t been friends for as long as you and the guys have – honestly, I don’t know how we never noticed each other before senior year. I-I don’t know when it changed, only that it did.”

Eddie’s thumb traced your bottom lip and his gaze deepened. Squaring your shoulders, you inhaled. “I love you, Eddie.”

His answering smile crashed into you like waves onto the shore. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Elated, you brought your hands up to his wrists. “Really?” You breathed.

His eyes darted between yours, eyelashes kissing his cheeks. “Yes,” he whispered right before pressing your lips to his.

Shaking your head, clearing the memory from the front of your mind, you dusted sand off your clothes. “Come on, we both need to wash off this sand and we still have that early call time,” you said, nudging him forward.

“This sand?” He asked.

You turned to look at him at the same moment he kicked some up at your legs. You gaped. “Did you just-” you sputtered as he kicked up more sand towards you. Without waiting for your response, he cackled and darted up towards the boardwalk.

“Come back here you shithead!” You screamed, laughing as you chased him back up the beach.

///

“You, Robin, and Dustin could really rule the world, you know,” Eddie said from the sofa in his hotel room, where he was gazing at you lazily.

Rain pelted the thick glass to your left, the curtains pulled open so that you could both watch in fascination as the sudden tropical storm wreaked havoc against the river in downtown Chicago.

Smiling, you glanced around at his dark hotel room – the glow sticks and lanterns from your emergency kit casting a warm low light against the walls. You’d all barely returned from another rehearsal and security walkthrough when the lights had suddenly cut out. It’d taken you ten seconds to slam the adjoining door open and run towards Eddie, who had been face planted into his bed and half asleep.

Immediately calling Robin, you both figured out that the power was out to whole hotel. Julian’s team had reached out to assure you that the floors had been cleared, your and Dustin’s protocol followed down to the smallest instruction, and confirmed that it was a city-wide issue. The ETA for the power being back on was two hours. The hotel generator was only managing to keep common areas on, and the elevators, and anyone was welcome downstairs for some light and free food.

“Don’t you forget it,” you said, pointing to him, the phone still cradled between your shoulder and your ear.

The receptionist tinny voice echoed in your ear. “Ms. Mayfield? Yes, apologies for the wait. Your food delivery is in the lobby. Would you like us to receive it and bill the room?”

“No, thank you,” you answered, “I’ll be right down. Tell him I’ll just be a minute!”

“Of course.”

Grabbing your wallet, you pointed at the door. “Lock it behind me and do not open-”

“-the door for anyone that isn’t you, I know,” he said, propping his chin onto his hand. “I’m going to hop in for a quick shower anyway. Just take my key.”

Ignoring him, a thought suddenly came to mind. “I should probably call and check on the venue, see if there’s any damage,” you mused to yourself, reaching out for paper to write that down.

“Or,” Eddie called out, “you let the storm blow over, relax for a minute, and check on them in the morning.”

Grumbling at his laughter, you made your way downstairs.

The deliveryman gaped at you, soaked to the bone, as you handed him a generous tip. “Are you sure?” He sputtered, looking barely out of high school.

“Be safe, okay?” You said, turning to share a smile with the receptionist sitting close by. She placed the pack of cards on the table, next to monopoly, and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No problem Ms. Mayfield. If you need anything else, please let us know.”

You waited a fair bit for the only working elevator, the attendant apologizing every few minutes. Waving away his apology, you offered him a spring roll from the massive takeout bag. Surprised, he shook his head, but smiled at your offer. Taking a bite out of your own, you smiled at a few kids running out and towards the sitting room behind you.

“Ow, hot, hot,” you grimaced as you accidentally shifted the bag in your arms too far. Dropping the rest of your spring roll into the bag, you wiped your hands on your pants and pulled out the key card.

Throwing the door open with your foot, you took another bite of your spring roll before placing the bag down on the low coffee table. “Food’s here!” You shouted, eyes catching on the video you’d both wanted to watch after dinner. Shit. “We’re going to have to return the movie and hope they’ve got a Family Video or something by the hotel. I really wanted to watch this one-” choking around your mouthful, you blinked as Eddie emerged from the bathroom.

The white towel hung low around his hips and you became intoxicated with the rivulets of water that sped down his chest from his hair. Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, it wasn’t the surprising clear definition of his muscles, or the hair – Jesus Christ on a stick the hair – that caught your attention. It was the scars that were littered across his chest.

The pale, jagged, lines most notable on his ribs and across his hip. And as if against your will, your eyes started to well up. You’d seen Eddie shirtless a few times before…before and seeing him after just reminded you of how close he’d been to death. You’d held the skin together on the one around his ribs, your jacket pressed against his wounds.

“Eddie, open your eyes – keep your eyes on me! Eddie! Sweetheart, please, please, don’t leave me too, you can’t! Nance, the blood – the blood-”

“Mayfield?” Eddie’s confused eyes swam into your blurred vision, crossing the room to stand by you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, you reached out a hand and trailed a finger across a small scar by his collarbone. Shivering, Eddie froze in place. “Oh,” he said, glancing down at himself as if he’d forgotten he was half-naked. “Yeah, you haven’t – you didn’t see them before. Aren’t they something?”

“You’re beautiful Eddie, with and without them,” you said adamantly, surprised by your own tone. It didn’t matter in the end, because you couldn’t live in a world where Eddie didn’t know that he deserved the world.

His warm, ringless, hand hesitated before cradling your cheek. “Why are you crying?” He asked, this thumb catching the tear that had managed to escape.

“I don’t know,” you said, tentatively placing your palm on his side. He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a moment before settling back on you. “I was so mad at you. When I saw you lying in Dustin’s lap, I was so mad and so scared…”

“I’m okay,” he said, ducking to catch your gaze. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m like a cockroach. Some ol’ demon isn’t going to get me.”

You half-smiled at him and his ridiculous brow wiggle.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kept this one together,” Eddie said, voicing your thoughts, pointing at where your hand rested. “I never said thanks for that, you know.”

Shaking your head, you found yourself ducking down. The only explanation you had was the fact that a ghost must have possessed you because, before you knew it, you had pressed your lips to the large scar.

As you straightened, Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened, his shoulders trembling. You darted your eyes up to his, about to apologize for your temporary insanity, when your mouth dried.

His eyes were heated, a look that shot directly to your chest and traveled down to your belly. Toes curling in your sneakers, you swallowed thickly. Your tongue darted out in a desperate attempt to wet your lips but as his eyes followed the motion, your mind went fuzzy.

Both of you swayed forward and you realized he was close enough that you could see the faint lines around his eyes. You gazed at him, categorizing the subtle differences ten years made and nearly smiled when you saw the two familiar small freckles at his neck.  

“These were always my favorite,” you whispered, a confession meant to be kept to yourself. Suddenly, a memory of you worrying them between your teeth flashed through your mind and you brought your eyes back up to his. You watched, fascinated, as his Adam’s apple bobbed once.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice an absolute wreck, as his hand fell to his side, “you’re killing me.”

Cupping his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek, you jumped when his hand came up to your wrist. He kept your hand there, his eyes darkening, and you felt your breathing turn shallow. Jesus, you wanted to rake your hands through the hair in his chest so badly you were practically salivating.

The silence of the room was suffocating, you wanted to crawl out your skin. His eyes branded you as they darted across your face, as if memorizing you, and you bit the inside of your lip.

Both of you swayed again, inching closer.

Then, suddenly enough to startle you, the lights in the room flickered on. The electricity in the building seemed to hum in unison for a moment, before settling.

What the fuck were you doing?

You blinked, realizing just how close you’d gotten, and you jumped back. Wrapping your arms around yourself like armor, you kept your eyes on the floor and shook your head. “I-I’m so sorry. I, uh, the food’s on the table. I’m not – I’m going to go back to my room.” Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and started for the adjoining door.

Quick footsteps and a hand wrapping itself around your wrist stopped you. Closing your eyes for a moment, you begged yourself to stay professional before turning to Eddie.

“The food,” he said, after a beat of silence, “you didn’t eat.”

Shit. “Right, uh, I’ll just grab my-”

“And the power is back on, so we can watch that movie you wanted,” he said, hand dropping from yours. You watched him rub his neck and you realized he was actually nervous. Eddie Munson was awkwardly nervous.

Stunned, you blinked at him.

“We both have a late start tomorrow, for the first time this entire tour,” he said taking a few steps back towards the bathroom. “Besides, you owe me.”

Indignation flashed through you. “What?” You sputtered, awkwardness falling away. “How the hell do I owe you? I’m the one who kept that crazy fan off you this morning.” You crossed your arms.

Eddie beamed, shaking off his own uncertainty, and shrugged. “You just do. Get the movie on, Mayfield. I’ll be…right back,” he said, grabbing a change of clothes and you absolutely did not watch his shoulder blades shift in fascination as he walked away.

Grabbing the food out the bag, you settled on the couch, crossing your legs. What the fuck was that? You asked yourself, barely resisting the urge to rub a hand down your face. For fuck’s sake, you kissed his chest. Had you actually lost your mind?

It didn’t look like he’d minded, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

Shut up, you told it.

But the damage was done, your mind was reeling, and you realized it hadn’t looked like he minded. In fact, it looked like he’d been leaning down-

“You better not have eaten all the spring rolls,” Eddie said, grabbing the remote and flipping the lights off. He flopped down onto the cushion next to yours and you quirked your brow. “What? No one watches movies with the lights on, Mayfield.”

Shooting him a look he ignored, you smiled when he placed another spring roll into your container. The opening credits started and you laughed as Eddie ran commentary, as always.

After quickly eating most the food, you both sunk into the cushions comfortably. Halfway through the film, you felt his hand come up to yours. He nudged you and you blinked up at him, confused. He nudged you again and you let him intertwine your fingers. Eddie’s answering smile warmed you.

Without overthinking, you let your head come down to Eddie’s shoulder.

The character on screen pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head as she ran out the door. You weren’t sure when you’d forgotten how easy it was to just…exist with Eddie. The way he radiated sunshine and how its rays warmed you from the inside out. You didn’t know how you’d existed without it for so long. It was easy to forget when you didn’t have it within your grasp, but now that you did – you didn’t think wanted to let it go.

///

“Hey!” Robin said as you opened the door to your hotel. She was dressed in an incredibly tailored suit and you let out a low whistle. She waved a hand, giving you a knowing grin. “I look good, right?”

“So humble too,” you teased, letting her in. “You’re early.”

She shrugged, draping herself across your unmade bed. “I got ready quicker than I needed to. Thought I’d come down and bother my favorite person in the hotel.”

“I’m telling Eddie you said that,” you joked.

Robin’s brows wiggled. “Talking about Eddie…”

You groaned, clasping the necklace you’d bought in Chicago around your neck. “Robin, please.”

“I can’t help but notice that you two have been getting along recently.”

“We’re friends.”

“Right, and friends always check out the other’s rack when they think no one is looking?” Robin asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

Hands stumbling, you dropped one of your converse onto the floor. “Jesus Christ Buckley, why don’t you just scream it?”

“Scream what?” A second voice asked. You jumped, shrieking when you saw Gareth leaning against the doorframe of the connecting door.

“Gareth!” You said, chucking a brush at him. “What have we said?”

He sighed. “It’s not smart to scare you because you could karate chop my head off my shoulders,” he said, pouting like a ten-year-old.

“Don’t worry Gareth, we were just talking about how close her and Eddie seemed to have gotten this past week,” Robin said, glint in her eyes. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you’d eventually miss Robin if you killed her.

“I have a bet going with the rest of the guys,” Gareth whispered loudly, “Jeff’s winning.”

“Excuse me?” You sputtered.

Gareth shrugged. “I thought the two of you were braver than you are.”

“I-I-” Words failed, really they did. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? Considering earlier today at breakfast you came in from working out and Gareth had to practically reattach Eddie’s jaw back to his face after seeing you in a sports bra.”

“Plenty of people wear sports bras to work out!” You said defensively.

Snorting, Robin nodded. “I know, you’re just the only one he’s got eyes for.”

You felt yourself grow flustered, not able to really handle anymore. You’d known that things had shifted after that night. You’d spent the last four days going over it in your mind. You were both playing with fire and you wanted to be sure that – if anything shifted – you wanted this. You’d already left a town of people behind; you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t gotten any closer to an answer, to any type of resolution to all of this. But it seemed to help that Eddie sounded just as confused.

What didn’t help was that you could practically feel his eyes on you, like a physical touch, and you couldn’t exactly keep your own eyes to yourself. Something had changed, or changed back, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

Gareth and Mike had already separately brought it up and you were mortified. Robin, as always, took great pleasure in fucking with you.

Saving you, the hotel phone rang and you dove for it. “Hello?”

“Good evening, Ms. Mayfield,” the receptionist greeted. “I’m calling to inform you that your party has started to arrive.”

“Thank you, we’ll be right down,” you said, hanging up the phone. “Everyone’s starting to arrive.”

You’d landed in Indianapolis early morning and had spent all day prepping as usual. Robin, like the mastermind she was, had managed to reserve a private room in the popular restaurant downstairs. She’d all but blackmailed the party into flying out for the concert tomorrow.  

“Eddie,” you called out, “everyone’s downstairs!”

“Coming!” He answered, his head popping through the doorframe a minute later. His eyes found yours first, as always. “You look great.”

Opening your mouth – Robin beat you to it. “Thanks Munson,” she said, swinging an arm around his shoulders. You watched as a blush crawled up from his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your bag and opened the door. “Come on, Dustin and Lucas will eat through the entire restaurant if we don’t hurry up.”

“I’m telling him you said that,” Gareth said.

Without much maneuvering, you had him a headlock the entire ride down. Robin and Eddie laughed as you walked out into the lobby with him still in your grasp.

“I’m going to pass out,” he complained, his hands reaching out to tickle your sides.

Jumping away, you growled. “That’s cheating!”

Dramatically gasping for air, he ran a hand through his hair and glared.

“Watch yourself, that’s my sister you’re scowling at,” a voice called out behind you both. Whipping your head around, you found the familiar red hair and freckled face. Not wasting a second, you ran towards her.

Slamming into each other, you wrapped your arms tightly around her small frame. The smell of her shampoo surrounded you and you felt yourself ease. “Hey Mad Max,” you whispered, leaning back to get a good look at her.

It’d only been four months since you’d seen her last, but you always felt like a piece of you slotted into place when you did.

“Hey boss,” she teased, laughing when you peppered her cheek with kisses. She squealed, the sound making you grin and you ruffled her hair. “Where’s- oomph.”

A blur of blue slammed into your side and you kept a hand on Max’s shoulder for balance. El’s wide smile beamed up at you and you grinned. “Ellie,” you said, laughing when your silly nickname caused her smile to widen. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas,” you said, wrapping your arms around her small waist and lifting her up off the ground. She laughed, the sound filling you with warmth. If anyone deserved complete unrestrained happiness, it was Eleven.

“I missed you,” she said, squeezing you once before letting you go.

“I missed you too.”

Another voice joined. “Why don’t I ever get greeted like that? It’s always move Sinclair, you’re blocking my sister,” Lucas mimicked.

Rolling your eyes, you smacked the back of his head before bringing him in for hug. “How’re the Lakers?”

“Good, got an earful from my coach about keeping to my diet,” he said, scrunching his nose.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite employee,” Hopper’s voice boomed in the lobby.

You whipped your head around and narrowed your eyes. “If it isn’t my severely unprofessional boss,” you said, cracking and letting him bring you into a hug.

He leaned away, eyes darting across your face. “You seem different.”

“Yeah, I’m probably going prematurely grey from the stress these idiots give me,” you said.

Hopper shook his head. “You look happy, like you’ve lost some of those weights off your legs.”

“Don’t start,” you said, holding a hand up. “You’ll all be the death of me before the night is over.”

Robin clapped her hands twice, Steve Harrington already at her side – as per usual. He shot you a wide grin when you caught his eye. “This is all wonderful and everything but we got reservations I had to trade a kidney for. So, move it or lose it nerds!”

You all sat down, doors separating you from the rest of the restaurant firmly closed, and you thanked Julian’s guys stationed at the front.

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, you watched everyone you cared about bicker, catch up, and hug each other. Nancy sat to your left; her arm linked through yours as she told Will about her most recent news story.

The food had only just arrived when you realized there was a steak on a plate on Eddie’s right. “Hey, who’s that-”

“Sorry I’m late everyone, the traffic on the highway was a bitch.”

Spine straightening, you stood and watched Wayne walk through the doors. His eyes found yours and you almost broke in two at the way they softened for you. Turning to glance at Eddie, you watched him shoot you a small knowing smile.

For most of your last year in Hawkins, Wayne Munson had been the only responsible parental figure you, Eddie, or Max had. You’d lost the number of times he’d cook you two breakfast or given you a ride to work when Eddie wasn’t home. Affection hadn’t come easy to him but he’d never turned you away when you reached for a hug. His scruff would tickle as he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before leaving for work most nights.

Wayne Munson was the man who’d displayed the Christmas card you’d given him when the one you��d tried to send to your dad was sent back with a bright red RETURN TO SENDER. The mug you’d gotten him was displayed right in the middle of that old trailer.

“Well, look at you, all grown up,” Wayne said, hands going to his hips. “You lost my number or something? Just because my kid probably done and messed things up didn’t mean you couldn’t have called me once or twice among the years. I’ve saved your postcards though, every single one.”

Tears building in your eyes, you flung yourself into his arms and it took everything in you not to immediately break out into tears. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t mean to stay away for so long.”

“That’s alright,” he said, thumping you twice on the back. “You’re here now and from what I hear, you been running a tight ship.”

Feeling merciful, the guys nodded, complaining instantly about your overboard security measures. Walking back down to your seat, you swiped a finger below your eyes and smiled when Wayne pressed a kiss to Max’s temple. “Hey Red.”

“Hi Wayne,” she said, beaming up at him. “Haven’t seen you since the summer. The new television holding up okay?”

“Course, you’re the one who helped me fix it,” he said, ruffling her hair. Wayne made his way down the table towards Eddie, settling down next to him.

Eddie’s eyes found yours again, concern swimming in them. You smiled, letting him know you were okay, just a little overwhelmed.

Halfway through dinner, you felt Hopper’s arm settle on the top of your chair behind you. “You can thank me with some scotch for the assignment,” he said, the glint in his eyes teasing.

“Right, and what am I thanking you for?”

Hopper rolled his eyes. “That, Mayfield, is the look of a man in love,” he said and you couldn’t help but glance towards Eddie, who was – in fact – looking at you. He smiled and you whipped your gaze back to Hopper. “You can’t be that blind,” he huffed. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll catch up eventually.”

“We did,” Joyce said, her soft voice coming from Hopper’s right. She smiled at you, her hand reaching for yours. “Don’t let him bully you.”

“Although,” Nancy said, joining the quiet conversation. “I really would’ve sworn that you two would’ve ended up together.”

“They would’ve, they still probably will,” Lucas, across from you said, voice a touch too loud for your liking. “You all see the way they stare at each other, right? It’s been two hours and I’m sick of it.”

“This is a job,” you insisted, “I’m suppose to make sure he’s – they’re all okay.”

“Not now,” Nancy insisted, “back then. When we were all still in high school.”

Your heart stopped and you felt your arms go numb. The two of you hadn’t told anyone – it’d only barely just happened when shit hit the fan. Then you turned and ran out of town before the leaves could settle.

“Shit, yeah,” Robin huffed, “do you remember the looks? God the yearning we had to put up with.”

Mike snorted. “It was, and still is, annoying. The campaigns always ended early when she sat in on them, like Eddie couldn’t wait to get rid of us.” Your pulse echoed in your ears and you darted a nervous look to the opposite end of the table. Eddie was in a deep conversation with the band, Dustin laughing at something Jeff had said.

“Remember Valentine’s Day? They got worse after that,” Lucas said. “Eddie practically ditched us every week.”

“And the nicknames?” Nancy added. “I thought it was sweet.”

Not able to handle more, you stood abruptly and you cleared your throat. “I’m going to go…to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you said, scurrying off before you could meet anyone’s eyes.

The hurried footsteps behind you let you know that you weren’t alone. Hands reaching for the sink, you tightened your grip on the edges. Looking up into the mirror, you saw Robin, Nancy, and Max’s worried faces.

“Was it too far? I’m sorry,” Nancy said immediately, her hands coming out to yours.

Robin, however, tilted her head. “No, that’s not it. What’s wrong?” Goddamn her.

Max answered for you. “They did date,” she said, coming up to your other side.

Your eyes shot up to her knowing ones and you balked. “What?” Robin sputtered, looking completely shocked. “I spent almost everyday with you. When the fuck did you two date?”

“How did you know?” You asked Max.

She shrugged, her hair falling to her back. “We lived across from his trailer, I could literally see you sneak out his window when Wayne would get home in the morning sometimes. Besides, it’s like they all said, anyone with eyes could see you two were gone for each other,” she said. “I know something changed in February. You two were different. I always felt guilty, after we moved, I felt like I…like I’d robbed you something.”

You’d moved to her side before you could even think. “You didn’t. Even if we had gotten together earlier, I wouldn’t have stayed in Hawkins. I couldn’t. I still can’t.”

Max smiled weakly, but you saw her nod before burrowing into your arms. “I’m sorry, we need to rewind a second,” Robin said, her voice a little too loud.

“I locked the door,” Nancy reassured you.

“What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God! I made you guys go on so many fucking dates just to fuck with you guys. Jesus Christ. I thought this was stupid yearning, a maybe we-kissed-once-while-drunk-or-high thing. Not that you guys actually dated!” Robin said, rubbing a hand down her face. “Holy shit.”

“They definitely did more than kiss,” Max said, laughing when you shot her a glare. “What? The trailer walls were thin and you were loud. Well, he was loud. Actually, you both were.”

“I’ll smother you,” you threatened, fighting the urge to run in mortification.

The three of them grinned, even Nancy, and you sighed. “This has been a bit much for me tonight. I – I need a moment.”

“Right,” Nancy said, ever the mediator. She gripped Robin’s arm and herded her out the door. “We’ll see you all tomorrow and the day after. I’ll tell everyone you have a stomachache and went upstairs.”

“Thank you,” you said, squeezing her hand.

“But- wait- I have more questions!”

“Which can wait for tomorrow,” Nancy whispered back. “Come on Buckley, we still have dessert to go through and I’ve got to grill you about Laura.”

“What! Who told!?” You managed to smile when Robin’s voice squeaked.

Splashing some water on your face, you hurried up to your room and almost jumped out your skin when a knock echoed a few minutes later.

Checking the peephole, you let your forehead drop against the door. Of course.

“Yes?” You said, opening it a few deep breaths later.

His concern evident, he took a few steps in and shut the door behind him. “Are you okay? Robin said you were throwing up?” His hands flew to your arms.

You reminded yourself to give her a good punch to the shoulder. “I’m fine,” you told him, opening your door to his room and giving it a sweep to have something to do.

“Wait, hold on a second,” he said, moving to follow after you and stopping once you sent him a glare.

Taking more than the necessary second to check through his hotel room, your thoughts bounced around wildly in your head.

What was he doing here? Did you really want to go down this rabbit hole again? Could the two of you even be friends again? How’d you feel if you saw him dating someone else? Did he want to even do this? What if you were getting ahead of yourself?

“I can hear you overthinking from out here,” he called out.

Shit.

You walked out, eyes landing on him in the doorframe immediately. The second you met his eyes, you felt something in the air shift.

“You’re not sick,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to disrupt anything.

Shaking your head, you wrung your hands together – suddenly nervous. You’d unarmed mercenaries before, other highly trained security personnel, shit – you’d decapitated a monster that had almost killed your sister. You’d stared down Russian soldiers in the face and spat at them.

But this, Eddie standing in the doorway, made you hesitate.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked, taking a step towards you.

You broke the eye contact, looking down at your fumbling hands. “About what?”

“You know what,” he said, taking another few steps into the room. He sighed when you didn’t look up at him. “Sweetheart, if you don’t – if I’ve read this wrong-”

Not able to let him think that he was alone in this, not again, you rushed to explain. “You haven’t. Read this wrong. At least I don’t think,” you threw your hands up, “I don’t know exactly what there is to read, Eddie. I’m…it’s been so long and what if we mess this up again?”

His entire expression transformed. “Mayfield.”

“What?” You huffed, crossing your arms.

Eddie smiled, brow rising, and you suddenly felt the urge to smack him. “Do you want to date me?”

“I’m scared,” you admitted. Eddie’s teasing expression softened into understanding.

“Me too. We can be scared together,” he said, outstretching his hand. You hesitated for a moment before intertwining your fingers together. “We can make up the rules as we go. It doesn’t need to be serious, or heavy, it can be whatever we want. We can relearn who we are now, see how these versions of us fit together.”

“I want that,” you said, the words some of the scariest you’ve said in a while.

Eddie beamed at you, his face practically splitting in two. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, because how could you not? Ever since you’d seen him lying there on the floor, your world had been spinning out of control. You had tried to steer it for a while but now you realized, it had just been spinning back to him. “I do.”

Both of you stood like idiots, smiling at the other, until Eddie’s eyes darted down to your lips.

The air crackled immediately in response; a soft current rippled through you. Unable to stop yourself, your own eyes dropped to his lips. You briefly wondered if he still made that noise when you bit down on his neck.

As if reading your mind, his hands trailed down to your hips, pulling you in. For a moment, a small moment, you let yourself be led – but clarity quickly slammed into you and you dodged his kiss.

Hurt, he turned around to look at you. “What – was that too fast?”

“No,” you said, breathing like you’d run a marathon. “I- we can’t.”

“Because?”

You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re a client! If we – if anything – it’d be unprofessional. I’m your employee. I’m literally being paid to be with you right now.”

“I mean technically you’re the label’s employee- ouch!” Eddie huffed, glaring at the pillow you’d tossed at him.

“No. There are no technicalities here. Not if it comes down to your safety,” you grumbled. “Shit, maybe I should reassign someone.”

Eddie straightened. “You can’t!”

“But-”

“The world already thinks you’re my girlfriend,” Eddie’s eyes sparkled at the word, “it wouldn’t make sense to reassign you. You can’t reassign this.”

You sighed when you realized he was right. Shit, were you compromised? Turning to argue, you watched something flash across his expression before he managed to school it back to neural. But this was you and him. You knew him too well. No one like to feel rejected, even if it was for a good reason.

Wanting to soothe any ache you’d inflicted, even if necessary or accidental, you walked up to him again. Placing a hand to his chest, you assured him. “If I wasn’t working, if I wasn’t on assignment. I would. I- you…you have a scar right here,” you said, tapping the edge of his collar.

“They’re everywhere, Mayfield,” he said with a ghost of a smile.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself have this one moment. Your index finger reached out to trace the scar. His skin prickled at the touch, hair standing on end. “It’s shaped like half a heart,” you said, tracing it over and over again. “I want to know what it tastes like. What it feels like under my tongue. I want to know if you still make the same noise when you’re desperate and needy. I want to know so badly it’s been driving me insane trying to deny that truth for the last two months.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened and you felt a small thrill trail down your spine at being able to have done so. “That’s not fair,” he said, voice hoarse.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” you said, not hiding behind your usual wall.

Eddie groaned at your look. “Fuck me,” he sighed, head thumping against the wall.

“I already told you,” you said, smiling cheekily, “I can’t.”

His eyes darkened further and your restraint was seconds from snapping. You waved a hand in the air and put more distance between the two of you. “Okay, okay, walk it off Munson.”

“Stop teasing me then,” he said, baring his teeth.

Alright, fair.

“There’s only a week left of this assignment. Seattle and then LA.”

Eddie nodded. “Then we’re free.”

“Yeah,” you said, both thrill and nervous, “then we’re free.”

///

“No!” A shout from the open doorway pulled you from your uneasy slumber. Sleep clung to your eyes, making everything a little fuzzy, but you let instinct take over. Grabbing the nearest weapon, you all but ran into Eddie’s room.

From a quick glance, you didn’t see anything out of place. Eddie laid on his side on the right, facing the door. You glanced into the bathroom and the open shower. When you glanced back at him, eyes and head clearer, you realized he was asleep. His face scrunched, expression a little anguished. You sat at the edge of the bed, hand coming up to his arm. “Eddie,” you said quietly, shaking him softly. “Eddie, it’s a dream. You’re dreaming.”

His eyes flew open, breath coming in scared pants, and he grabbed your arms tightly. “Are you – is everyone okay?” He stammered.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you assured him, “it was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.”

Except you knew that things were never just a nightmare.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, voice rough. “Did I wake you? Was I screaming?”

You shook your head, waving away his apologies. Running a hand down his head, you took his hand with the other. “We all get them. Are they – do they happen often?”

“Not as much as before,” he admitted, “they always come back when I’m finally feeling okay. Then they strike. It’s like they hide in the shadows for the right time.”

You smoothed the hair away from his face and traced a nonsensical shape into his palm. “I get it,” you told him, because you really, really did. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Eddie hesitated and you frowned.

“What is it?”

“Can you – can you stay?” He asked a little shyly. “I won’t try anything, I swear.”

“A perfect gentleman?” You teased, knowing already that you wouldn’t be able to say no to him. He crossed his heart and you nodded. “If your hands wander, I’m smacking you in the morning.”

“That’s fine,” he said, pulling the blankets up to your chin. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you said, yawning.

///

 You woke up slowly, burrowing your face into your pillow, you tried to fight off the day for a few more minutes.

Moving to shift onto your back after a few minutes, you found yourself unable to. You cracked open one eye and realized you weren’t in your bed. Head perking up, last night came back to you in a rush and you looked down to see an arm keeping you securely tucked. Eddie’s chest was practically molded into your back, his nose buried in your neck and breath tickling your skin.

Glancing at the time, you groaned. Shit, you needed to be up and downstairs in a few minutes. “Eddie,” you tapped his wrist softly, “I gotta get up.”

Groaning in response, Eddie pulled you tighter to him, his cheek coming to rest on your head. You, however, blinked at the new sudden pressure you felt against your hip. Trying your best to shift away, you ended up rubbing against him.

A sharp inhale hit your skin and you shut your eyes. Experimentally, you pressed back again, the curve of your hip hitting at the right angle. Eddie’s gritty voice hit your ear. “If you keep doing that, this will get interesting really quickly.”

Eddie’s grip on your waist loosened and you instinctively turned to face him. You both groaned this time, when it was now trapped between you. Eddie rocked forward, almost unconsciously, and you clenched your thighs.

“Eddie,” you said, eyes catching his. You watched, fascinated, as his pupils dilated. Unable to help yourself, you rocked your hips forward again. This time, Eddie panted, his breath hitting your cheeks and you realized your grip on his arm was painful.

“Mayfield,” he hissed, grip on your hip tightening.

Shaking your head, you rolled off the side of the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.

“Mayfield?” He called out, coming over to glance at you over the edge. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you said, trying to calm the embers in your – well, entire body. “We both need cold showers, breakfast, and to get going to the venue. Shit, I might need a drink at this rate.”

Eddie groaned, flopping back down onto the bed. “You and me both.”

You really couldn’t help but laugh.

///

Being back in California settled your nerves from the past week like a wave returning to the ocean. There was something about your home, the city you were born in, that calmed you.

Glancing around the packed club, the one the record label had rented out to celebrate the last concert of the national tour, you took note of all the exits again.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Robin said, dropping herself into the seat next to yours. Her elbow hit you in the side and you hissed. “Sorry, sorry, this place is fucking packed. The next person that accidentally bumps me is getting smacked.”

Suddenly, the booth you were in was surrounded. Everyone had returned with their drinks in hand, Eddie taking your other side and the guys sitting around the table. “Man, everyone from the tour is here! This is great!” Jeff said, excitedly sipping his pina colada. You smiled from behind your hand, his drink of choice hadn’t changed from high school and you couldn’t help  but find it endearing.

Robin straightened. “Wait, this is it,” she said, glancing at you and Eddie. “You’re leaving us after tonight.”

“Well, technically I get a week off and then I think I’ve got a politician’s daughter who needs me for the next month.”

“What?” Eddie said, turning to glance at you. “I thought you were taking a few weeks off. I’ll be in town until we leave for London.”

Oh. You thought he’d be going back to New York after your week off. Robin, clearly picking up on both your tones, stood up. “We need a round of shots. Hey! Can I get a round of shots?”

The entire group groaned and she shot you each a look. A waitress brought them over on a tray and she waved over the few of Julian’s team that had opted to come. The guys and girls smiled and picked up a few shots when Robin urged.

“I want to toast to the woman who swooped in and saved our ass these last two months. Mayfield,” she raised her shot glass, “you’re irreplaceable, the best of the best, and we’re sad to see you go but goddamn, do we love to watch you walk away.”

You sputtered, laugh loud enough to rival the bass coming from the speakers.

“To our new guys,” she said, turning to Julian’s crew, “we’re so glad you’re staying with us. Welcome to Hell. You’ll love it here.” With a salacious wink, she threw back two shots.

The entire group cheered, lifting their glasses and drinking to an end and new beginning.

“God damn,” you hissed, the tequila stinging on it’s way down. Burying your face into Eddie’s shoulder, his hand came up to the back of your head and you felt his laughter beneath your cheek.

“Want something to wash it down with?” He asked, offering up his beer. You scrunched your nose and pointed to the bar.

“Save my seat? I’m going to go get something else. I think I burned my tastebuds off, what the hell was that?” You hissed, kissing his cheek and walking off towards the bar.

The blonde at the end of the counter spotted you and shot you a warm smile. “Can I get you anything?”

Ordering a drink, you added an appetizer as an afterthought. “Actually, can I have two?” She nodded, placing the orders for you and asking what table you were sitting at. Waving away her offer, you pulled yourself onto a barstool. “I can wait, no worries!”

A Corroded Coffin song came on and you grinned as the entire room erupted into cheers. You bopped your head at your seat, singing softly along to the words. A hand came up to your back and you smiled. “I’m just waiting on the-” your voice trailed off when you realized it wasn’t Eddie. “Oh. Uh, hi?”

“Hello,” the guy said, eyes dropping to your chest. You scrunched your nose and pulled back. “Did we meet at that party in Beverly Hills?”

Shaking his hand off your body, you straightened. “No, we did not. Please don’t touch me.”

Instead of insulted, his eyes sparkled – as if rising to a challenge you hadn’t announced. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before – you’re gorgeous.”

“Right,” you said, turning to hop off the stool. You were not going to hurt the stranger because it would kill the mood, you reminded yourself, unclenching your fists. As you took another deep breath, your eyes flew open when a firm grip pulled you into his chest. Shrieking, you went stumbling into his arms. “What the fuck?”

“I like girls who have a little heat,” he said, fingers practically bruising your wrist. “I saw it the moment you sat down. Besides, who wears an outfit like that and doesn’t want to get noticed?”

Trying to keep your temper in check, an image of you flipping him over your shoulder and slamming him into the ground flashed through your mind. Anger somewhat mollified, you were about to rip your arm from his and maybe break his index finger in the process, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Stumbling into another chest, you glanced around to see Eddie’s fierce expression.

“I suggest you get your hands off my girlfriend before I break yours,” he said, tone leaving no room for arguments. Annoyance flashed across the guy’s expression before recognition dawned on him.

“Shit man, I didn’t know that was your girl, honest,” he said, taking a few steps back. His face paled as he stumbled away from the bar and towards the booths on the right. Not releasing his hold on you, Eddie stalked over to Johnson, who was two seconds from climbing onto table to dance.

“Who is that?” He asked her. Her glazed look disappeared at the sound of his tone.

“Plus one from a suit at the label. Want him out?” She said, all traces of inebriation vanishing at will. A bit of pride shot through you at that.

Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “I know it’s your night off but he was feeling Mayfield up-”

Johnson’s brows flew up. “And his limbs aren’t broken?”

“I was trying not to make a scene,” you hissed, glaring at Eddie, and smiling at the few concerned looks you were getting.

Eddie’s eyes turned to you for the first time since the bar. Surprised at what you saw, you blinked. “Some things are worth making a scene for,” he turned to Johnson who smiled knowingly.

“I can take care of it,” she assured you both, “with pleasure.”

You turned to Eddie and he spoke before you could. “People are looking, darling, smile.”

“Do not tell me to smile,” you snarked. “I had that handled.”

Not dignifying you with a response, he pulled you into one of the semi-private booths. You growled at him. “Don’t manhandle me like that, I had it covered. It’s literally my job.”

Eddie ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry, I know you could’ve handled it but-” he hesitated, brows furrowing, “sometimes other people can take care of you, you know?”

You leaned back. “What?”

“Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean someone else can’t help. I know you could probably kick my ass-”

“-not probably, I definitely can-”

“-but I’ve still got your back. Even if you don’t need it.”

He was jealous, you realized, finally recognizing the emotion brewing in his eyes.

Oh.

“I…okay,” you said, taking his fingers and intertwining them with yours across the table.

Eddie frowned. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

Suspicious, he leaned forward. “I just – I didn’t like how he had his hands on you. I wanted to punch his stupid face.”

It was very in character that the sentiment made your heart skip a beat.

“Who goes around just grabbing people like that? The way he pulled you- and his stupid suit-” he exhaled harshly. “I’m sorry if I pulled you too hard. I know we haven’t defined anything between us yet-”

“Hey,” you interrupted his nervous rambling. “I can get jealous too you know.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, remembering that stupidly pretty bartender at the Hide Out. The way she’d place her hand on his arm, tracing his tattoos. Blinking away the memory, you raised your eyes up to Eddie’s and felt that first crackle of electricity. “I’ve got to share you with everyone you know,” you teased, “you’re Eddie Munson, famous rockstar now.”

Instead of laughing, Eddie’s eyes shifted and you felt the tension deepen. The current snapped louder, practically visible. “Yeah, but you wanted me when I was that kid planning campaigns and standing on lunch tables. Nothing, not even sold-out stadiums and big fancy international tours can change that. You were the first.”

“Eddie,” you breathed, fingers digging into his skin, and you suddenly got the urge to kiss him.

He smiled, a soft, excited little thing. “I don’t know if you’ve realized but,” he licked his lip and you followed the motion. “I regret to inform you that your employment for Corroded Coffin has come to an end.”

“Technically it’s to the end of the night,” you joked, laughing when he shot you a half-hearted glare, “but, yes, I do know.”

“So, what do you say we get out of here?” He said, wiggling his brows like the dork he really was. Your heart sung, wanting to reach out and bury itself beneath his skin.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m pretty sure this party isn’t even halfway through.”

Eddie groaned, head lolling to the side. “You’re killing me Mayfield, you’re actually killing me.”

“I’m not,” you huffed, “I’d be a little ruthless if I mentioned that I’m wearing something a bit lacy underneath this all.”

Popping his head up to glare at you, you watched with unrestrained laughter as his eyes lowered – dazed. “That’s not fair,” he grumbled. “Fuck the party, let’s just go. I’ve been waiting years for this.”

“It’s only been two months,” you reminded him, “and we can’t – you have a speech to make with the guys. Robin will kill you if you miss it.”

Eddie’s desperate gaze softened into something tangible. Something real you could almost grasp in your hands. It reached out and stole your breath, leaving you gasping. “No, sweetheart, I’ve been waiting on you for years. I just didn’t realize until last month,” he stood, resting his weight on his forearms to lean into your space, “and I’ve never been one not to go for what I want. And right now, that’s you.”

With a dip of his head, he licked a strip up your neck and nipped at your jaw before hovering just far away enough from your lips. Your heart dropped into your stomach and the velociraptors in your stomach awoke with a vengeance.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you heard yourself say, sounding incredibly breathless.

With one last heated look, he slid out the booth and sauntered through the gauzy curtains. You blinked, watching him walk back towards your friends. That little punk. You groaned, heat swirling through your belly, and you clenched your thighs together.

An hour, tops, and you were dragging that man – rockstar or not – back to your room.

Straightening your shoulders, you stood and made your way over to bar for your drink. The bartender let you know she sent the forgotten appetizers to your table and you nodded, dazed. Making your way to Robin, sipping on your cocktail, you sat next to her.

She grinned at you.

“What?” You groaned around the straw.

“That looked like a heated conversation.”

You shrugged, crossing your legs. “It might’ve been.”

“It had to have been considering the speech the guys are making is suppose to be in an hour.”

Humming, you looked at her a little confused. To be fair, you were still drowning in a cloud of Eddie’s cologne and the memory of his gaze. She pointed to the makeshift stage at the edge of the dance floor where the DJ stood. Gareth was thanking everyone on the tour for their help.

“He came over to let me know they were gonna bump up the speech and ‘do not fucking knock on our door until tomorrow afternoon even if the hotel is burning down’ or else he was plucking eyes out.”

Eddie’s voice came through the mic next and you immediately started choking on your drink, you coughed and thumped your chest, trying to dislodge the ice cube you’d just accidentally inhaled.

“I know,” Robin said, amusedly watching you choke to death. “From now until the afternoon? That’s ambitious. Just try not to break the bed, this is an expensive hotel.”

Glaring at her as you cleared your throat, she cackled. “I better be your best man.”

“Robin!” You gasped, needing a reprieve.

“What?” She huffed. “As if you two would ever end up with anyone else? Please. But seriously, Max gets maid of honor but I’m the best man. Best maid? Whatever. I’ll get to rub it in Steve’s face for years.”

The sarcastic quip on your tongue died as a hand circled your wrist and hauled you to your feet. Glass hitting the table, you stood and whirled to see Eddie’s wild eyes. “Come on.”

“Did you basically announce that we’re together to the whole group?” You hissed, following his lead – you were indignant, not stupid – and turned to glare at Robin as she wolf whistled. “Jeff isn’t even done speaking!”

Eddie, ignoring your words, kept weaving through the crowd. You reached the elevators and you opened your mouth but Eddie shot you a look. “For once, in your life, don’t argue with me,” he said, nipping at your ear and successfully shutting you up.

You were used to being the one that took the lead, Eddie had always encouraged you to do so. So when the elevator shut behind him and his lips crashed into yours for the first time in almost ten years, your legs immediately turned into jelly. Your arms went to his neck, securing him to you as his teeth bit down into your bottom lip. Groaning into his mouth, you ran your fingers through his hair and tugged sharply.

Eddie’s moan echoed in the elevator, reverberating in your bones. His eyes flashed and you shivered, thrilled at the sight. His hand came to your neck and your shoulders hit the back panel. Panting, you stared up at him defiantly and you watched him smile at your – do doubt – swollen lips. His thumb caressed the underside of your jaw and you tried to keep yourself from letting him know how much you enjoyed it.

The glint in his eyes let you know you’d failed but you didn’t mind, especially not when the elevators opened and he all but ran you to the end of the corridor. Not able to keep your hands to yourself, you pushed him against the door and finally, fucking finally, lapped at the scar on his collarbone. His head thumped at the door and you let your hand trail down to palm him through his black jeans. Eddie buckled, pupils blown wide, hands scrambling for the upper hand but you kept him pressed against the door.

Mouth traveling up to the meaty part of his neck, you worried the sensitive skin there and pressed harder. Eddie’s choked whine hit your ear and he panted. “Sweetheart, this is going to be over really soon if you don’t stop teasing me.”

“Oh yeah?” You said, eyeing the red skin at his neck with satisfaction. Eddie’s chest rose quickly, a dazed smile on his face. “Fuck,” you huffed, pushing your disheveled hair from your face.

“What?” He asked, fingers pulling the key card from his pocket.  

“You’re sort of beautiful, Munson,” you said, not stepping through the door as he opened it. Surprised at your comment, he glanced back at you and you smiled. “It’s almost unfair.”

Heat doubling in his expression, Eddie pulled you through the doorway and caged you in on the wall. “You can’t say shit like that to me when you look like that,” he groaned, his lips coming down to your neck this time. You gasped when his hand slipped underneath your top, deft fingers pulling down your bra and palming your chest. “Fuck, I want you so bad.” You whimpered when he brought a knee up between your legs and hissed at the sudden pressure.

Jesus Christ, you needed to take his clothes off, now. You both needed to be in bed, on the floor, against this fucking wall – whatever. But it needed to be soon. Your edges were frayed after this past week of building tension.

Nails digging into his back, you rocked your hips desperately seeking any type of friction. “Eddie,” you mumbled, mind completely gone and eyes opening. You took a moment to adjust the candlelight and then blinked. Candlelight? Wait, what?

The haze in your mind cleared for a moment and your sixth sense popped it’s head up.

“Wait, hold on,” you said, nudging him back – his scent was intoxicating and you needed a breath of clean air. As your brain rebooted, you took a few steps towards the massive sitting room and immediately the hairs on your arm stood on end.

Something was wrong. Really wrong. Fuck. You hadn’t swept the room before you stepped in. “Get out – Eddie, run-”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, confused, and the idiot took a step towards you instead. Acting on pure instinct, you whirled around and didn’t have enough time to bring your hands up. A punch to your face and the subsequent crunch let you know that your nose was broken. Blood instantly gushed down to your mouth. You heard Eddie scream your name, panicked.

Dazed and sprawled on the floor, you watched Eddie launch himself at the man and they went tumbling into the wall. The woman, who had been laid out on the bed, stalked up to you. Her platform heels clacked against the floors and it took you a moment to stop seeing double. Heaving for air, you felt her sharp heel come up to your face. Your head snapped back, sight going hazy again.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t come for you, stupid bitch?” She hissed. “He’s too good for you. I don’t know what he saw in you but we’re finally here. You can’t keep us apart anymore.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, blood dribbling down your chin.

“We suspected you were security, you know,” she said, twirling the knife in her hand, “considering the previous guards were easy to bribe to let us into the hotels and venues. Your guys though, I have to give them credit, clocked us in a second. But we’re devoted. He’s ours.”

You glanced back at where the woman’s companion had Eddie in a headlock, clearly trying to keep from hurting him. Eddie’s eyes caught yours and you tried to will him into collaborating.

“He’s the love of our lives,” she said, looking back at Eddie and blowing him a kiss. “We were all married in our past life.”

With a well-practiced move, you swung you leg out and collided with her. She screamed, tumbling to the ground and you pounced. Your foot came down to her hand with the knife and you leaned your entire weight onto it.

The crunching sound beneath your own heels, and her panicked pained screams, let you know you’d returned the favor and broken her wrist. “Fuck you,” you spat, rearing your hand back and bringing it down onto her temple twice before she went limp.

A fist came down to your hair and dragged you up. The man’s tight grip drew your arm back furiously. With a deep breath, you opened your mouth and unleashed a guttural scream. Throwing your head back, you heard the man shout. He released his grip on you and you turned to face him. He threw his arm out towards you but you side stepped him, using his own momentum, you leaned backwards and hooked your foot around his. In a move your Sensei would be proud of, you twisted and landed hard atop of him. Unfortunately, the man managed to fold your arm in the process and you knew by the exploding pain that if something was dislocated – you’d be lucky.

Already looking for something to grab, you barely managed to sideswipe the lamp Eddie brought down onto the man’s jaw. Going limp, you panted, and swung off of him.

Eddie’s panicked eyes darted over to you. Cradling your bad arm, you pointed to your room. “Go get my duffel bag. The blue one. I have zip ties in there, tie these two to the radiator on the wall.”

“But – Mayfield, the blood – did she – fuck-” he stammered and you looked down to realize he was right. It looked like someone had been stabbed and for a brief moment of panic, you reached out towards Eddie with your right hand. “It’s not me – I’m fucking fine – it’s you!”

You brought your hand up to your face and winced when you felt the cut on your cheekbone and temple. “That bitch caught me when she kicked me,” you said, “head wounds bleed a lot. I’m fine. Eddie, focus – go get the zip ties.”

His breathing was a little shallow, and his skin too pale, but he nodded. Running into your room, you used his absence to heave yourself up. Groaning as the room spun, you limped over towards the phone.

Before you could get there, you watched the door slam open. Martin and Johnson stood in the doorframe, eyes widening as they took you in. “Boss, shit, are you alright?” Johnson said, at your side in an instant.

“Where’s Munson?” Martin asked, already ducking into your room, where Eddie was holding the zip ties in his hands.

“I found them!” He shouted, letting Martin take them from him. At the sight of other people, Eddie darted back over to you.

“Sweep the building, make sure everything is secure,” you told Johnson, the broken nose and hit to your temple starting to make you dizzy.

Martin tied their arms behind their backs and marched over to the phone. “I’ll call you an ambulance boss,” he said, a speck of blood on his cheek and the knife in his hand.

Johnson wrapped your good arm around her neck and guided you out to your room. “How did you know?” You asked, inhaling sharply when you jostled your arm.

“Neighbors called in a complaint about screaming downstairs. Robin sent us up as a joke but we heard your scream from the elevator banks,” she said, face twisting. “I don’t know how they got passed security.”

“I do,” Martin said, holding up a large duffel and some maintenance uniforms. “Medics and police are on their way boss.”

“I want to charge them with everything fucking possible,” Eddie snarled, his hand on your leg. “Jesus Christ, look at the blood.”

Johnson nodded. “Head wounds bleed a lot; it doesn’t look too bad. What’s another few more stitches?” She joked, clinical eyes taking in your nose. “Looks clean but definitely broken.”

“You don’t say,” you snipped, watching through heavy eyes as Johnson smiled.

“She’ll be alright,” she said and you knew it was more for Eddie’s benefit than your own. “She’s got enough in her to still be a sarcastic punk.”

You huffed weakly. “I’m still your boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnson straightened, “hey now, stay awake.”

“Mayfield?” Eddie said, his hand coming out to shake you. Johnson’s fingers smacked your cheek a little but it was futile. Exhaustion and adrenaline swept through you, knocking you down and encompassing you in the dark.

///

You awoke in the ambulance a few minutes later. It seemed that not eating, drinking shitty tequila, and taking a few hits to the head wasn’t a good mix. The EMT had greeted you with a wide smile.

Robin, however, had looked like she was ready to vibrate into a different dimension when she was finally allowed into your room. She stepped in, her suit wrinkled and her expression tight. You were still a little loopy from the pain meds but a nurse had helped you raise the bed so you were at least sitting for the debrief you knew you’d have to give.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she hissed, her fingers coming out to your good wrist.

“It looks worse than it is,” you said, knowing that your face must be bruised to shit. The swelling had already started to set in and you knew that the nose was going to look bad for at least two weeks.

“The nurse said you’d broken something but I thought it was your fucking arm – not everything else!” She said, hand hovering in the air like she was scared to touch you.

You bridged the gap for her and curled your fingers around hers. “Rob, I’m okay. I’ve had worse.”

That didn’t seem to be the right thing to say because she paled. Taking the opportunity, you squeezed her hand and tried to blink back your tears. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice thin, “I am so sorry. I was distracted and didn’t check before we went in. Eddie could’ve been hurt and I-” This time your voice did crack and you tried to swallow around it. The guilt had been eating you alive for the entire time you’d sat in this bed.

How could you have not gone in and cleared the room? You’d been doing it for two months, every day, and you’d forgotten. Everyone made mistakes but mistakes in your field got people killed.

“Sorry?” Robin sputtered incredulously. “Mayfield, you saved his life. You saved both your lives! You’re a fucking hero.”

You shook your head, wincing when it brought a sharp throb of pain.

“Is that why the nurse said I was the only visitor cleared? Eddie’s been driving himself crazy in the waiting room – he’s a wreck out there,” she said, squeezing your hand tightly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“This is my job!” You exclaimed.

Robin’s eyes softened. “The assignment was up yesterday, boss. Besides, they’ve been arrested and slapped with so many charges I’ll be surprised if they’re not in there for a good chunk of years.”

“But I shouldn’t have let my guard down. We were distracted- I let him distract me-”

She smiled sadly at you. “Don’t do this, I know what you’re doing – how you’re working yourself up. Don’t do this to him.”

“Robin, I- I can’t,” you said pathetically, feeling like you were going to throw up.

“Listen to me. You two have always been inevitable. That’s – part of the reason I was insistent on hiring you. I knew that you both were each other’s person. Admittedly, I thought you were both just being stubborn, I didn’t know you’d actually dated. You both just needed the right circumstances and two good nudges. Obviously, you were someone I trusted but…you had to have known. Everyone who looked at you two knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was never pretend. It took three nurses to keep him in the waiting room, Mayfield. He’s – he was losing his mind when they wouldn’t let him ride in the ambulance. Shit, when I saw all the blood, I had a panic attack. It looked like – like when Eddie-” her breath went shallow and she winced at the rattle in her chest. “Fucking PTSD.”

“Fucking PTSD,” you agreed, empathizing completely.

“This wasn’t your fault, is what I’m trying to say. The fact that you two finally came to your senses and got lost in the moment was what we all wanted! For years. Please, don’t hide away from him again.”

The guilt piled on you in epic proportions but you were anything if not stubborn.

You’d almost gotten Eddie killed – except this time it was your fault. You were the one who’d forgotten to double check. You were the one who was suppose to know better. You weren’t dumb kids in over their heads.

Robin sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and patting your hand. “I’ll let them know you’re staying over for observations and you can’t have any visitors until the morning, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said, ashamed and relieved all at once.

That night, with your kind nurse checking you once an hour for any signs of a concussion, you watched the stars through your window.

You’d tried and lost, again. You knew that you shouldn’t have taken this job – panic threatened to overwhelm you. It felt like you’d been dropping into the ocean in the middle of a storm. Waves crashed into you, pulling you under.

Like a coward, you’d already asked Max to come get you upon your discharge. You’d heard the hesitation in her voice but she agreed to pick you up from the back. You needed to make it a clean break. Eddie would go off to do better things because he deserved better than you and the baggage you came with.

Chest aching and tears burning, you realize that you had almost made it this time. You’d had what you wanted within reach, fingertips grazing it, until it was snatched away from you again.

You’d learned something though. The second time around hurt more than the first. But at this point, running was second nature.

///

In hindsight, you should’ve known that your patchwork, flimsy at best, plan wouldn’t work. Hiding out for a week in Lucas’ spare bedroom helped you keep up the illusion that you weren’t being the biggest coward in all of existence. Max, like the best little sister in the world, hadn’t brought up the topic and let you mope around as you got used to maneuvering around with a cast on your arm – again.

The phone rang and you instinctively flinched. You heard Max answer and sighed when she called out your name from the kitchen.

“It’s Hopper,” she said, coming to the doorframe. “I promise.”

Grumbling, you picked the phone up from the receiver. “Do you ever pick up the phone?” Hopper asked. “Jesus. I had to hear from Robin that you’re not dead in a hospital somewhere?”

“Sorry,” you grunted, feeling like a kid getting scolded by their parents.

“Listen, I need a favor,” he said.

You groaned. “Hopper, I broke my arm,” you whined.

“And then disappeared off the face of the planet for a week. Joyce was ready to call Murray.”

Sighing, you frowned. “I’m on leave for at least a month – I can work with the cast but my nose needs to heal.”

“Calm down tiger, I just need you to go into the office and meet with some of the suits from the label. They want to hear what happened from your end. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

“Can’t I do it over the phone?”

“Would I be calling you if you could?”

And that’s how you found yourself on your way to headquarters on a Saturday morning.

Jessica, the office admin, greeted you with a warm smile when you arrived. “That looks painful,” she said, whistling.

“You should see the other guy,” you joked weakly.

Her brows rose. “They’re still alive?” She smiled when you laughed. “Come on, they’re already here.”

“Shit,” you glanced at your watch. “I thought I was early.”

“Don’t worry, they haven’t been here long,” she reassured you. She grabbed your bag and opened the door to the largest conference room.

You took a step into the room and froze. Eddie stood, arms crossed, leaning against the large wooden table. Glancing back at the door, Jessica smiled knowingly. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

The silence was painful and you sighed. “Eddie-”

“Please don’t be mad at me, I’m so sorry for doing this. You deserve the best and that isn’t me,” he said, eyeing your cast with a guarded expression.

“What?” You said, headache blooming at your temples. You were going to kill Hopper. No, you were going to quit and then kill him.

Eddie nodded to the folded letter next to him on the table. The one you’d asked a nurse to give to him before you’d slipped out the back. He was quoting what you’d written.

“You had some audacity, you know?”

Sighing, you settled into the nearest chair and waved a hand in the air. “What did you want me to do?”

“To fight, for fuck’s sake, fight for us!” He exclaimed. “I know you love me; I know you do. You don’t have to say it, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“It’s in my blood! What do you want me to do? From the first time I fought with the kids, to that last battle. I run, it’s what I do. I don’t – I don’t know how to stop,” you said, voice anguished.

“That’s fine, but let me run with you. I don’t want to catch you, I don’t want to change you into something you’re not – but let me be by your side,” Eddie said, throwing his hand out. “Did you really think you could hand me a letter and think I’d just let it go?”

You didn’t answer because, yeah, that’s what you had thought.

“I let you go once because I thought it was what you wanted – I’m not making the same mistake again,” he said, reverent. “I realized now that you’re scared but, I’m scared too.”

“I almost got you killed,” you said, like a broken record. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry – for everything.”

Eddie sighed. “Mayfield.”

Something snapped within you. “No, Eddie, no – I can’t do this. I can’t – I don’t know why. Maybe that’s all we’re destined to be. An almost. A beautiful, wonderful almost.”

“We were never an almost,” he said, coming up to you, “this is just our story. And this isn’t the end of it - you weren’t the one that got away, you’re the one period. We might’ve worked before but we might’ve not. But those kids in Hawkins? They weren’t an almost. We weren’t almost something. We were something. But this us? Right now? We’re right where we need to be. We were meant for this. This is our story.”

Weak excuses falling at your feet, you gazed up at Eddie’s eyes and stripped yourself bare. “I do love you, I do,” you admitted painfully, “I didn’t think that we’d fit together the same way we did before but we did and I didn’t know what to do with it. Then, the beach happened, the storm – I’m scared. I’m broken, that time in Hawkins broke me and I don’t know how to stay. I don’t know how to plant roots.”

“I do though and I can do it for the both of us until you learn,” Eddie said, eyes looking at your cast sadly. “Do you want this?”

Tears welled in your eyes and you considered lying again. But you couldn’t – not a third time. Against every blaring alarm in you, you nodded. “Yes. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. But – I’m different Eddie, I’m…”

“If you say broken,” he scowled, “you’re not fucking broken.”

“I’m different. I’m haunted. It’s been ten years and it still won’t go away. It gets easier but it’s always there. The assignments I’ve gone on – the shit I’ve seen. I- I can’t cope sometimes. The shadows always come when the sun goes away,” you admitted, saying the words for the first time in years.

“Share them with me. I can help you chase the shadows away. That’s what we do, right? Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”*

At your shock, Eddie smiled softly, kneeling so that he was looking up at you.

“When are you going to learn?” He mused, eyes dancing between yours. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. I don’t deserve better because you’re the best of us, Mayfield. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and I refuse to let you think otherwise. Because I know you’re brave. I’ve seen it. I can see it now. Let yourself be loved.”

Heart cracking open, you felt tears roll down your cheeks. Your good hand came up to his cheek and you leaned your forehead against his. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your shoulders and batted at the shadows. How stupid of you to think you could outrun him, the same man who stared a tornado of demobats and stood to fight.

“Okay,” you said, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared you’ll bump my nose.”

Eddie’s answering grin was blinding.

///

“I could take a look at the security plans if you want,” you said lightly, inching towards the files on the table and leaning forward.

Yang shut the file closed and shot you a look. “You’re here as a guest of the band’s, Mayfield. Not as security.” She smiled when you pouted.

“Oh come on, you know I’m good,” you whined.

She shook her head. “What you are, is a control freak,” she teased. “Your boyfriend was looking for you a few minutes ago. I’m assuming he went to the stage next.”

You scowled and stuck out your tongue before taking off towards the main stage. Fighting back your smile, you wrapped your arms around yourself. Hearing other people refer to Eddie as your boyfriend, an official boyfriend, always made the velociraptors in your stomach yawn awake. Even after six months.

“There you are!” A pair of arms wrapped around your waist and you jumped.

Turning in the arms, you smiled up at Eddie. “Here I am,” you said, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips. “Where’d you go?”

“Robin needed me. I’m good for the next hour, I wanted to see if you were hungry.”

You quirked your brow. “You have a concert in three hours and they’re letting you leave?” You asked.

“I’ve got you with me,” he said, grinning, “they always trust me more when you’re around.”

Laughing, you tucked yourself under his arm and curled an arm around his waist. “Gee, I wonder why,” you said. Eddie’s finger trailed down your nose and you scrunched it at him.

“Let’s go wander Barcelona,” you said, eyes tracing his movements when he tucked his hair into a baseball cap.

Eddie smiled knowingly when he caught you blatantly checking him out. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, ducking for another kiss.

“You two are disgusting,” Mike called out, carrying the backup guitars towards the stage. “Get a room!”

“I’ll remember that the next time you see El!” You shouted back, laughing when he stuck his tongue out.

“I haven’t seen you in a month,” Eddie huffed, “I’m allowed to be dramatic about it.”

You pulled him towards the side exit. “You’ve never needed permission, Munson, don’t start now.”

Finding a small park a few blocks away, you bought yourself some gelato and sat cross legged on a bench. “Want some?” You asked, offering up a spoonful. Eddie rarely ate this close to a performance but your stomach flipped as you watched his tongue dart out to catch some of the creamy goodness. His tongue managed to swipe your thumb and he smirked.

“Tastes delicious,” he said, leaning closer.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you teased, tilting your head back further so he could nip at your neck. The current flickered for a moment, lying dormant when he leaned away.

The look in his eyes was fond when you couldn’t help but kiss his jaw. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, I’m just happy to have you here,” he said, resting an arm on your knee. “Are we going to talk about it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Between the two of us, you’re the one that’s having a harder time accepting this.”

“She’s a kid!”

“Max is an adult, Edward, and may I remind you that you and I were doing a lot worse things when we were younger than her?”

Eddie huffed, squeezing your shoulder. “I just keep picturing them as my little lost sheep, you know?”

“How do you think I feel?” You said. “I can still picture her all tiny and chubby limbs. But he makes her happy, you know? They’ve made it this long anyway – if anything, he took his time.”

“I still can’t believe he asked me for my blessing,” he said and you remembered how Eddie had teared up the day Lucas had asked you for permission to propose to Max. You’d cried, then laughed about how you were going to tell her he’d asked for permission like she was cattle. He’d gotten flustered the more you teased and you honestly wished you would’ve recorded it.

“I bet she cries,” you said, tearing up at the thought. Your little sister was getting married.

Eddie kicked a leg out. “Nah, she’ll probably tackle him to the floor while he cries.”

“Also likely,” you admitted. “Hey, you think we’ll ever get married?”

Choking, Eddie turned to you, shock all over his face. He sputtered a few times, mouth gaping.

“What? You planning on breaking up with me?” You asked, curled your tongue around the plastic spoon.

At that, he reanimated. “No, of course not,” he said. “I just – I didn’t think you’d want…to do that.”

That was fair. Considering your history.

“Would you want that?” You asked, curious. You didn’t have a preference really; your parents had been married and then your mother had married Neil. That was enough to remind you that marriage wasn’t the end all.

“A few years ago, I would’ve said no,” Eddie confessed, “but, I gotta admit, I want everything with you, sweetheart.”

Biting back a grin, you nodded. “Then, let’s do it.”

“Did you just propose to me?” Eddie asked, laughing and ducking when you swatted at him.

“No, doofus,” you rolled your eyes, “I meant let’s do it eventually. I want a ring and to actually be asked.”

“That’s weirdly traditional for you,” he teased.

You shrugged. “I want everything with you too,” you said, delighting in the way his eyes went soft and gooey, “besides, I want you down on one knee.”

Eddie wiggled his brows. “You have me down on my knees a lot sweetheart, doesn’t take much.”

Ignoring him, you jabbed him with a finger. “Don’t you dare ask either of my parents for permission.”

“Noted.”

“Maybe I’ll propose to you, we both know Wayne would say yes.” You thought about it and wondered what kind of ring he’d like.

Eddie rolled his eyes, all suffering. “We get it, you’re the favorite.”

“Don’t forget it,” you said, bumping your arm into him. “You’re my favorite, if that’s any consolation.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at you. “It is.”

Checking your watch, you stood. “Come on, we’re cutting it close. Yang’ll want to run through a few perimeters checks and she said I could help.”

Grabbing your hand, Eddie let you lead. “Isn’t this supposed to be a vacation?” He asked.

“Hey, I’m all yours after this,” you said, “last concert of the tour and we get a month to ourselves in Europe.”

Eddie grinned, kissing your temple. “There’s this bakery in Florence that I know you’re going to love. I want to take you so many places. Oh, there’s a bookstore Gareth found in Lisbon!”

You watched his face come alive as he recounted his tour of the Eiffel Tour. Yeah, you thought to yourself, you might not believe much in marriage, but you believed in Eddie.

///

“Muchas gracias Barcelona!” Eddie said, waving to the crowd as they screamed themselves hoarse. You felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. They’d done it – they’d finished the first part of their world tour.

The label had given the green light for another six months in the next year but this one had been a success in ways no one could’ve predicted.

Gareth darted past you first, falling into the arms of his new girlfriend. You, ready for it, found your arms filled with a practically buzzing Eddie. He hugged you tightly. “We did it!”

“You did it, I’m so proud of you,” you said, shouting a little to be heard over the fans.

You walked deeper into the side stage and took Eddie’s hand in yours. “Sorry, I’m all sweaty,” he said, bouncing on his toes. The boys were always energetic post-concert, you knew it was the adrenaline of performing. Eddie had once told you he’d hoped that the novelty would never fade.

“It’s never bothered me before,” you said, doing a perfect impersonation of his eyebrow wiggle. Eddie, however, stilled. His hair was frizzy, wild, and his smile was just a little unhinged.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you said, you loved all versions of him. “I’ll love you forever.”

His smiled turned into something soft. You beamed back at him, knowing that he reveled in it every time you said it. And it was so easy to give him what he wanted, because Eddie was, by far one of the easiest people to love. He was the man you’d love for the rest of your life. It was hard sometimes but, you made it work.

Eddie’s fingers came up to your chin and tilted your face up to his. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you echoed, peppering his face with kisses. He laughed, delighted, and then – like a switch had flipped – they turned. His eyes were ravenous and hands everywhere.

His lips trailed open mouth kisses down your throat, his hands going lower and lower-

“Jesus Christ, I’m fucking blind,” Dustin cried, hands coming up to slap against his eyes. “This is a public area! Can you two get a goddamn room?”

Eddie’s insistent hand pulled you off towards an empty one down the hall. “Good idea Henderson.” Powered to ten, the electricity between you two popped, tying you together.

Dustin gagged but you’re too enamored to care much. “We’ll catch up!” You shouted over your shoulder.

“Not likely,” Eddie said, pushing you into the room and locking the door behind you. “Now, where were we?”

As he pounced, your back hit the velvet sofa, you laughed. His teeth nipped at your neck and you wrapped your arms around him. Just before your mind went fuzzy, you had one last rational thought.

Maybe you did owe Hopper a bottle of scotch.

  A/N: remember when I said I was learning to write shorter stuff? lol me @ me you played yourself 

#eddie munson x reader

[munson-blurbs]

Take Me Higher (Older!Single Dad!Argyle x Babysitter!Reader)

Collaboration with @hxllfired and @corroded-hellfire 💚

Summary: Argyle hired you to babysit his son, but what happens when you and Argyle share a joint after work hours? Is your attraction to the sexy stoner reciprocated?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, drug use (weed only), slight age gap (5-7 years; Argyle and Reader are both over 18)

WC: 4k

--

“Alej, time to get ready for bed!” you call out, washing up the last of the dinner dishes. The little boy looks over at you from the sofa, dark brown eyes wide and lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“Five more minutes?” he asks. “I wanna read one more book!”

You shake your head and give a small laugh. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago,” you remind him. It would be too easy to give in and let him read until he falls asleep, but you know his dad would not appreciate it. “C’mon, you can show me those new Thomas the Train pajamas you were telling me about!”

Alej’s demeanor shifts to pure excitement, and he bolts into his room to change. He’s a great kid; incredibly smart and thoughtful for a six-year-old. It’s part of the reason why you love babysitting him.

It also doesn’t hurt that his dad is absolutely gorgeous, with long, raven-black hair, the sweetest smile, and the kindest heart. Insisting you call him Argyle, treating you like part of the family, always paying you for an extra full hour, even if he only ran ten minutes late. He smells faintly of weed and a musky cologne, and damn, do you want him bad.

You get Alej to bed and settle in on the couch and put on the TV, just in time to catch the newest episode of Friends. 

The door opens slowly, and your heart thumps as Argyle walks in. He’s got some flour smudged on his cheeks and forearms, and he looks exhausted. 

“Hi,” you greet him, managing a nervous smile. “Tough day at the office?”

He nods. “Three of my cooks called out, so I had to step in and help make pizzas. Haven’t done that shit in years.” 

“Nice of you to do that, though. Must be why all your employees love you.” Wait a second—are you technically an employee? You do work for him, just not at Surfer Boy. You feel your cheeks grow warm at the implication. 

Argyle just chuckles, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a ten dollar bill. “Shit, I thought I had a twenty in here.” He frowns and rummages through his pockets, only pulling out some loose change and a neatly-wrapped joint. 

“Sorry, that’s, uh, for later,” he mutters. “Takes the edge off a little, y’know?”

“You can smoke it now,” you shrug. “Alej’s sleeping, so…”

He fidgets with the joint, contemplating. “This might not be, like, professional or whatever, but d’you wanna join me?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. It certainly won’t be your first time smoking weed, but you’ve never gotten high with him before. What if I say something stupid, or I can’t stop giggling like an idiot? you worry, but you follow him out to the small balcony outside the apartment. 

Flicking on the lighter, Argyle takes a big hit, visibly relaxing on the exhale. He passes to you, and you say a silent prayer that you don’t choke in front of him. 

“Classes are out for the semester?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you answer before taking a second hit and handing the joint back to him. “Then I’ve just got one semester left.”

“That’s fuckin’ awesome!” His smile sets you alight. “You wanna be a teacher, right?”

“That’s the plan.” And maybe it’s the two hits already going to your head, but you find yourself plucking the joint from between his lips and placing it between your own, grinning smugly at his shocked expression. 

“Wow,” Argyle says, feigning annoyance. “Here I am, sharing my favorite strain with you, and this is the kind of treatment I receive?” His joke makes you giggle, and you start coughing on the smoke. “That’s what you get,” he teases, stealing it right back and taking another hit. 

“Alej can’t stop talkin’ about you, by the way,” he confesses. “Says you’re the best babysitter ever.”

You beam proudly at the praise. “He’s honestly such a great kid. The most trouble he ever gives me is when he wants to stay up late to read.” You laugh. “I mean, what first-grader does that?”

Argyle shakes his head. “I dunno, man.” He looks so beautiful in the moonlight; you just want to kiss him. “I try to read to him all the time. Didn’t really have that growin’ up, and school wasn’t my thing. Teachers just kinda wrote me off as some dumb kid; didn’t even bother to pronounce my name right. That’s how I ended up with this nickname.” He laughs at your confused expression. “Don’t tell me you thought that ‘Argyle’ is my real name!”

“Well, you never told me otherwise!” you point out. “What is it, then?”

“Alejandro; just like Alej’s,” he says softly. “Had this teacher in fifth grade—Mrs. Young, which was funny, ‘cause she was really fuckin’ old—and she took one look at my name on the roster and pronounced it ‘Argyle.’ Next thing I knew, everyone was calling me that.”

You look at him, right in his deep brown eyes. “Do you want me to call you ‘Alejandro’?”

“Nah, man. ‘Argyle’ kinda fits me at this point. I just never want Alej to experience that. I always tell him to correct people if they say his name wrong.” He takes a long hit before admitting, “His mom wanted to give him an American name so he could ‘fit in,’ or whatever. Should’ve known she wasn’t for me right then and there. I mean, who wants to just, like, keep shit status quo?”

“Sounds boring,” you agree, voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re really…unique.” You blush as you say it. “I mean that in a good way, I promise.”

“Y’really think so?” he questions, repositioning himself slightly so he’s looking directly at you. “I feel like, ever since I had Alej–and I fuckin’ love that kid, don’t get me wrong–but I’m not as fun or interesting as I used to be.” He looks at the joint in his hand. “Like, I would smoke two of these and then party my ass off. Now I take a coupla hits and go to bed. Make sure I’m not too high in case Alej needs me.”

Your heart sinks at his admission. “Argyle, that’s not boring. That’s being a great dad. It’s why Alej’s so wonderful–because you’re raising him.” You scoot closer, letting your fingers rest on top of his. 

“Did I ever tell you how I got this scar?” he blurts out, motioning to the discoloration above his eyebrow. You shake your head, and he presses on. “My friend Jonathan and I were super high, and we got a hold of some BB guns. They weren’t mine, they weren’t his, but somehow, we had ‘em in our hands.” He gives a small laugh. “And I shot mine off, which scared him, and then he pulled his trigger, and it hit me…right there.”

“You could’ve gone blind!” you gasp, leaning in to get a better look. Instinctively, you run your thumb over the scar, and you feel him shiver at your touch.

“Yeah…we never let him near a weapon again. Not even a water gun.” 

“Don’t blame you,” you muse, “you’ve got really nice eyes.” Shit, did you just say that?

But Argyle’s too focused on your lips to notice your embarrassment. “You’ve got really nice…everything.” He brings his face to yours, cupping your cheek with his strong hand and kissing you gently. You feel the electricity flowing between you before he pulls away suddenly.

“Sorry…I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbles. “You’re my kid’s babysitter. Wouldn’t be right.”

“No, no, I…I really liked that,” you say reassuringly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile, actually.” Maybe even do more than that, you think to yourself. You beam at him, willing him to kiss you again.

A small voice stops both of you in your tracks. “Daddy? You’re home!”

“Alej, what are you doing up? You’re supposed to be in bed!” Argyle rubs his face in annoyance. “C’mon, go back to your room, little dude.”

“But I’m thirsty,” Alej whines. 

“I’ll grab him some water,” you say, putting your hand on Argyle’s arm. You only rest it there for a second before you realize what you’re doing. You watch Argyle try to inconspicuously adjust himself in his pants as you head inside. 

You hand Alej the glass of water, and he accepts it gratefully, gulping down half of it. “Go say good night to your dad and head back to bed, big guy,” you say kindly. He looks up at you, offering a gap-toothed smile before he dashes off to hug Argyle, water nearly sloshing over the top of the glass. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Argyle murmurs, squeezing his son tight and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Get some rest, okay?” Alej nods, running back toward you.

“Careful with the–” you start, but it’s too late. Alej stumbles over his feet, catching his balance before he falls, but not before spilling the water all over your white shirt.

“Sh–sugar!” you cry out, and the boy bursts into tears. “It’s okay, Alej,” you crouch down, pulling the wet fabric away from your skin. “This is just why we have to be safe and walk in the house, especially when we’re holding things.” You wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

Argyle runs over to you. “Let me put him back to bed, and I’ll grab you a shirt to change into.” You start to protest, about to tell him that you can just head home, but he’s already scooped his son into his arms. He’s left the joint in the ashtray, but it’s still lit, and you take another quick puff. The high really hits you, leaving you slightly dizzy and more than a little giggly.

You’re daydreaming when Argyle comes back into the kitchen, clutching a Grateful Dead t-shirt. “This’ll do the trick,” he says, tossing it to you. “You can just throw yours in the dryer; y’shouldn’t drive while you’re this high, anyway, so you might as well stick around.”

Without thinking, you pull your damp shirt over your head, giving him a glimpse of your white lace bra. You shimmy into his shirt, glancing down as you smooth the logo over your torso. “How do I look?” you ask, giving a little twirl.

“Really, really good,” he breathes, stepping towards you and gripping your waist. “Did…did you mean what you said about wanting to kiss me?”

You nod, placing your palm flush against his chest. “Is Alej asleep?” you whisper, using your free hand to play with his hair.

“Out like a light,” he confirms, a smirk growing on his face. With that, you kiss him, much harder than the first time. You let out a small moan as his tongue grazes yours, and he hooks a finger around your belt loop as he pulls you even closer. He tastes like pineapple and the pot you’ve shared. You give his plush bottom lip a small bite as you part.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You’re not the only one who’s thought about this, and it’s even better than I’d imagined.”

“And what exactly did you imagine?” you ask salaciously, brushing his hair off of his neck and standing on your tiptoes to suck a bruise into it. 

“Wanna make you feel good…want you to make me feel good,” he tells you before kissing you again, lifting you so you can wrap your legs around his waist. He positions his hands under your ass and grabs it harshly. 

“Your room,” you choke out, and he all but sprints there, sitting on the bed so you’re straddling his lap. You can feel his hardened length underneath you, and you grind down on it, desperate for the friction against your clothed pussy. 

Argyle brings his lips to your ear, nibbling on the lobe as he whispers, “We have to be quiet, okay?” You nod, tugging his shirt over his head, and he does the same with yours—well, technically, it’s also his. 

You whimper as he trails his lips between your breasts, skillfully unhooking your bra with one hand. He brings his lips to your nipples, sucking on them as they harden in his mouth. 

“Your body is so fuckin’ perfect,” he says breathlessly, unbuttoning your jeans and helping you out of them. “Always felt kinda bad thinkin’ about this.”

“Don’t,” you tell him, repositioning yourself so one thigh is on either side of his hips. “I thought about it, too.” You unbuckle his belt and he shucks off his pants, using his feet to pull them down his ankles until they hit the floor. “So…many…times.” With that, you bring yourself to your knees and practically tear off his boxers, watching as his thick cock thwacks against his stomach.

You flatten your tongue, licking up his shaft, swirling around the tip and lapping up a pearly bead of pre-cum. He groans as you dig your nails into his thighs, leaving half-moons in your wake. 

“Need more?” you tease, gasping as he threads his fingers through your hair and brings you closer to his length. You wrap your lips around it and take him in. Argyle helps you find a rhythm, gently moving your head without being forceful.

“That’s s-so good,” he stutters, inhaling sharply as you quicken your pace. You have every intention of letting him finish, hollowing your cheeks as you suck harder, but he pulls out of your mouth with a pop.

“You can…I don’t mind,” you start, but he shakes his head.

“Not before I get you off,” he growls, helping you off the ground and onto the bed. You lay back as he reaches over to his nightstand and grabs a hair tie, pulling his hair into a low ponytail. “Let me take care of you, baby.” He parts your thighs and licks a stripe along your folds, pressing his tongue against your wet cunt. 

“Argyle, r-right there,” you moan as he begins his assault on your clit, humming and sending vibrations that you felt . He makes no attempt to silence the filthy wet noises emitting as he ravishes your pussy. 

The noises you make even surprise you, small squeaks and whines egging him on. You had fantasies about this, imagining Argyle, yes, but finding someone who can make you turn into mush before you’ve even cum. “Holy shit,” your breath hitches again when he teases a finger around your opening, that small sensation emphasizing and intensifying what he is doing to you. 

“Just like that,” you breathe out, “fuck.” 

Your hands begin to reach around desperately for something to grab, first the sheets, then a pillow. It wasn’t enough. It was like you were floating away and needed something to keep you here. Argyle is quick to react, his eyes hungry on you the whole time. He takes your hand into his tightly as the other slowly pushes a finger into you, then twists upwards toward that oh so special spot, and you are quick to realize that you never made yourself feel this good. You swear you hear him grinning against you when you react with an involuntary shake of your legs. 

He can admit everything for him has been pretty vanilla until this, and you have never been one to sleep with an employer, per say. But the way his second finger slips in and gives that incredible pressure building along with that persistent tongue on your clit is enough to make you moan, a little louder than intended, and then there’s a sharp pain on your thigh. 

“Did you just slap me?” You ask breathlessly once you brace yourself on your elbows to see him, a fucked out smirk on your flushed face. 

“Yes. Be - a good - girl.” He spoke through gritted teeth, and a smile peeked through matching yours. “My kiddo is in the next room. So be quiet so I can make you fucking cum.” 

You nod quickly, only to throw your head back when he wastes no more time, continuing his agonizing quick movements — you feel yourself tightening up, and you look at him again, pouting as your orgasm approaches, and he knows. He can feel it. 

“That’s it, baby.” He praises, and it forces another desperate mewl from you. “Please-“ you whimper, squeezing his hand harder as you feel yourself teetering over the edge. 

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” he chants against you as you fall onto your back again. He lets go of your hand to steady you as your thighs begin shaking. You’re practically seeing stars as you cum, trying to keep your voice down as you muffle his name like a prayer into your own hands.

“Such a good girl,” Argyle muses as he clambors back onto the bed. His finger is still gently thrusting into you still, and you’re so wet you can hear it. “Can you give me one more? One more on my cock, beautiful? Please?” His head cocked to the side coyly as he watched your aftershocks linger with his agonizing movements. He was seemingly mocking you, and you loved it. 

“Mhm,” your sweet, whiny voice breaks as you hold eye contact. This was a game two could play. You’re still coming down from your orgasm, and he’s still teasing you with that fucking finger, your pussy greedily sucking him in. He leans in, his eyes studying your face sincerely. The change in his expression adamant he was checking in, and you nod. “I’ll do anything you want, just stop teasing me and fuck me already.” 

“You and your fuckin’ dirty talk ‘s gonna kill me,” he couldn’t help but to grin like a sex crazed teenager, but it was endearing. He pulls his hand away from you and brings it to his lips, as if it would be the last taste of you he had. 

He kisses you again, and you lean up into him with a whole other level of desperation, mumbling against his lips about a condom. Argyle tries not to break your kiss, but as he fumbles around blindly for the foil packet in his nightstand he’s forced to pull away. “Yeah,” he‘s breathless, and you watch him bring the wrapper to his teeth and rip it open effortlessly. 

Argyle does not hesitate one bit as he places the rubber over his mushroom tip, and you’re nearly drooling at the thought of it stretching you, filling you up entirely. But his hands distract you, notably shaking. You don’t know whether or not he’s nervous, or eager to do this with you. 

“Argyle,” your voice is back to a soft normalcy, and he looks at you. Is he nervous? With you?

Taking initiative, your dainty hands help him roll the condom down his cock, and he watches as you take your bottom lip between your teeth. “There,” you say as you lean into him again, lips brushing but not quite a kiss yet. 

Argyle's hands hold your waist, taking note of how your curves are a perfect fit for his hands. “Thank you.” He trails kisses along your collarbone. “One kid is enough for now.”

“Yeah, no babies,” you confirm, licking your lips and tilting your head back. 

“Mhm,”

The small talk seems to loosen him up a bit more. He’s trying to maneuver you onto your back but you are persistent to take control for now. “I want to ride you, can I please ride you?” you ask him, and Argyle swears that pout of yours would surely be the end of him. 

He takes your face in his hands, and your hands press onto his chest to push his back against the wall. You can still taste your slick on his mouth as you lean down to kiss him, and Argyle's fingers are digging into the flesh on your back. 

“Yeah?” He breathes. “Does the sweet, innocent babysitter want her payment now?” His words encourage you as you straddle him, making sure he can see your eager nod. He’s watching you as you’re desperately trying to line him up with your entrance — you don’t think you can last another second without him inside you. 

“Take your payment baby, take it and then some. You’re such a good babysitter.” 

The room becomes significantly quieter once you slowly push down onto him, your synchronized heavy breathing suddenly halts as you both take in the pleasure emitting from your connected bodies. “Fuck,” he groans first, his voice trailing as he breaks the silence. You’re feeling too much to even speak, your head thrown back and your arms wrapped lazily around his shoulders. You don’t move for a few moments, adjusting to his girth. 

“Stay with me baby girl,” his hands move to your face, bringing you to look at him as he pushes your hair back. “Gorgeous, you’d better start moving or I’ll-“ 

He’s cut off, jaw dropping when you slowly lift yourself up, and you’re quick to find a steady pace. Argyle's hands move to your hips quickly, firmly holding them as you both maneuver your bodies for the perfect angle. It doesn’t take you long, once he’s there you cannot hold back the erotic moan to apprise Argyle to stay right there.

“Oh, princess,” he goads you, “that feels good, yeah?” When you don’t answer, too blissed out and drunk on his cock, he brings his voice back to its usual register. “Really, is this okay?” It’s oddly sexy; hearing his genuine concern for your pleasure turns you on even more. 

You rock your hips, rubbing your clit against the thatch of curly brown hair at his base as you take him in deeper. “M-more than okay. ‘S too fucking amazing, holy shit.” 

Argyle’s big hands knead the fat of your ass, giving you leverage to ride him. You bring yourself up so he’s almost fully out of you before bouncing back down, watching his eyes roll back as you repeat the movement over and over. 

“I’m not gonna last if you keep doin’ that,” he groans. You can feel his dick twitching inside you. 

“Maybe that’s what I want.” You keep your tone salacious as you taunt him. “Maybe I want to make you cum harder than you’ve ever cum in your life.” 

He bites his lower lip as he thrusts into you, hitting every inch of your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby, ‘m cumming for you,” he pants. “Want—need—you to cum with me. B-Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

Your orgasm washes over you as a string of swears leaves your lips. “Fuck—Argyle, I’m cumming. I’m fucking cumming all over you, all ‘cuz of you. Filled me up so damn good.” Your fingernails leave marks along his chest as you claw at it. 

With a low grunt and a final piston of his hips, Argyle spills into the condom. “Goddamn,” he whispers, slowly pulling out of you. “Best I ever had, I fuckin’ swear.”

You preen at his praise. “I’ve never cum like that before,” you tell him shyly. I just fucked my boss. Suddenly all-too aware of your own nudity, you scramble for your shirt.

And that’s when you realize. 

“Argyle!” you hiss. 

“Everything okay, baby?” he calls from the bathroom. Baby. He’s still calling you baby. 

“I, um, forgot to put my shirt in the dryer,” you murmur, embarrassed by your mistake. “I can just bring it home with me; hang it up to dry or something.” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Unless you have another half hour to kill?”

Argyle exhales, grinning widely. “Give me two minutes, yeah?” But you can already see him beginning to grow harder. “Good babysitters like you deserve a tip.”

--

#argyle stranger things #argyle smut #argyle imagine #argyle x y/n #argyle #argyle x female reader #argyle x fem!reader #argyle x reader #argyle x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #argyle fanfic #babysitter!reader

[mattspolitank]

REUNION IN PROGRESS

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆╰┈➤Pairings:Matt sturniolo x Anna Johnson

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆╰┈➤Warnings: Fluff,Anna headplanting onto ice

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧╰┈➤SUMMARY:

ANNA JOHNSON visits her best friend Madi where she reunites with her childhood bestfriends. The catch is she hasn't talked to MATT STURNIOLO since junior year. Will that change?

CHAPTER 002

When I woke up, it was ten in the morning. I look over and see that Madi is ordering takeout while Nick sits on the other side of the couch, using his phone.

I was covered with a blanket and my head hurt like crazy. When Nick saw it, he handed me some water to wash it down and a painkiller. I went to shower and change into somewhat of a fresh outfit.

They were all seated at the kitchen table, waiting for me to arrive, when I came downstairs. After our meal, I immediately went back to bed.

When I woke up, it was ten in the morning. I look over and see that Madi is ordering takeout while Nick sits on the other side of the couch, using his phone. I was covered with a blanket and my head hurt like crazy. When Nick saw it, he handed me some water to wash it down and a painkiller.

I went to shower and change into somewhat of a fresh outfit. They were all seated at the kitchen table, waiting for me to arrive, when I came downstairs. After our meal, I immediately went back to bed.

By this time, I had just woken up and it was 7 p.m. Madi was curled up next to me, staring at her phone but not quite asleep. "Good morning, sleepy demon," she greeted me with as I awoke. "Good morning. "Where are the boys ?" As I got out of bed to use the restroom, I said. She looked back down at her phone and said, "I came upstairs because they wanted to film a Wednesday video."

When the boys finished filming, Madi and I decided to watch a newly released new series. We both enjoy binge-watching TV series and films. Nick joined us later and had the same great time as us.

I could not resist wondering: where was Matt at this time? Though he spends most of his time in his room, I see him every day at least. Considering Matt was never around, it was strange that I was interested in finding out where he was, but I tried to fall asleep.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

I was unable to sleep. I tried going to sleep, but my eyes would not close. I went downstairs and had a cup of coffee, as I usually do. I was taken aback to see Matt down there. I made the decision to stop talking to him after what happened the last time. I simply picked up my coffee cup and headed outside to the balcony.

I was confused when Matt briefly joined me because I was not sure if he wanted to talk to me or just enjoy his Pepsi alone. Whichever it was, I was not going to try to strike up a conversation unless he expressed interest. He looked at me and said, "Anna.""Huh?" I said, feeling a little relieved that he was speaking to me as I turned to face him again.

"I apologize for all of it. I am sorry I allowed our friendship to sour due to trivial matters. The countless memories, inside jokes, and most importantly, the bond we once shared are all missing from my life. It is been a painful realization that my pride and stubbornness allowed me to let something so valuable slip through my fingers," he remarked.

"Do not worry, Matt. We are all set as long as you do not bother me or become a pain," I said jokingly, and he laughed too.

"But in all honesty, Matt, I am overjoyed that we can once more be friends. I was sorely missing you," I said, pulling in for a hug.

"I missed you too, Peanut."

Matt was sitting on the chair closest to me when I fell asleep on one of the balcony chairs in the morning.Chris had just come out of his room at ten in the morning and had made us a ton of burgers.

"How amazing these are, I am in disbelief," declared Madi.Chris said, "You can call me Mr. Burgman," and we all started to laugh.I asked the group, "Do we have any plans, or are we just going to sit and watch TV all day?"Nick remarked, "I was thinking we could go ice skating and buy ice cream after".

I could not skate for the life of me, but we all agreed that I would just have to hold on to Nick for dear life. The group laughed as I said this.

I yelled from the top of the stairs, "Madi and Nick, can you come upstairs?"I heard footsteps approaching.They were excited but not shocked when I told them about what had happened with Matt because, in Madis words, "They knew this was coming."

We got into the car and headed out.The ice skating rink was 5 minutes away.I noticed that Matt was staring at me during the drive, but I did not give it any attention.

When we got there, Chris helped me skate and put on my skates.

Nick uttered loud enough for Madi and Chris to hear, "Let us leave them two alone so they hang out together," and they both nodded.Nick patted my shoulder and said, "Anna, me, Madi, and Chris are going to get our jackets from the car.Because it is too cold inside," I nodded to indicate that I understood.

After trying to skate with the wall's assistance but failing, I went over and called Matt for assistance."Help me, Matt."You are my only hope right now since Nick, Madi, and Chris went to the car," I said, clutching his hand as if I were holding on for dear life.He helped me a little bit and attempted to teach me how to skate.I attempted a solo skate and managed to complete two laps before collapsing backward.I immediately went into unconsciousness.

╰┈➤ MATTS POV:

Eventually, after a few attempts, she managed to skate alone.I could not help but smile as she continued to yell, "Matt, look, I am doing it."After two laps, it appeared as though she lost her balance and landed on the ice backwards, head first.

She had passed out by the time I skated to her, so I quickly grabbed her in a bridal manner and removed her skates.

As I was heading to the car, Nick, Madi, and Chris noticed me and came running over to me.Chris asked, "What happened to Anna?" "She was trying to skate by herself when she fell.", "Why did you still let her when you knew she could not skate?" I could not help but feel guilty as I continued to walk to the car after Nick yelled at me.

Why did you still let her when you knew she could not skate?

••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/n

Im experimenting with the themes so bare w me😛😛😛

Taglist: @mattsbella @junnniiieee07

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part x- the letters

“i’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, i am afraid of being completely unraveled by you, and you finding nothing you want in here” - l.m. dorsey

summary: as you settle in at the compound, the free time gives you a bit too much room for self reflection. not like the closeness of your trio is helping with your littles crushes either.

wordcount: 4.3k

warnings: pining, more pining, lil 🤏 angst, trauma, hydra fucked up ya boi, lists, yes lists is a warning

a/n: can you tell i was obsessed with parallels this chapter 💀 also the ✨olive theory✨ but no but i’m really happy w how this turned out hope u enjoy and like always, love you! 🥺🤍

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza

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The next days were dedicated to establishing a schedule. Thankfully, that was something Steve had always been good at. With his help, you had a nice, flexible schedule that would help you ease back into normal life.

5:00 AM:

Wake up. Take a flying lap. Get ready. Suppress the urge to think about how domestic getting ready with your boys is. Head down to the kitchen for a snack before stretching and going for a run around the compound. Follow up with a workout and cool-down stretch.

7:00 AM:

Eat a good breakfast, and use the opportunity to try new foods. Sometimes other members of the teams join you. You still don’t talk around them much. After breakfast, shower.

8:30 AM:

Let Steve teach you and Bucky about the modern world, plus catch you up on his life. Get distracted by his smile and his biceps. Pretend to not be distracted. Think about the lockbox.

12:00 PM:

Eat lunch. Sometimes with other team members. After lunch, go for a fly around the grounds.

1:30 PM:

Either run errands or just go into town. Avoid touchy paparazzi and blush when Bucky defends you in front of them. Get confused about why you’re blushing. Think about the lockbox again.

6:30 PM:

Dinner. Always a full-team event. Sit silently so as to not interrupt or bother anyone. Always thank whoever cooked or ordered the food. Help clean up after.

After a week, you’re comfortable with the order. You enjoy how much time you spend with your boys, despite worrying about being clingy. And despite how quiet you are around everyone else, you enjoy being around them, too.

One day, after your morning run, none of the three of you hear the noise coming from the kitchen. But the team hears you.

You, Bucky, and Steve are in the middle of a half-joking-half-serious debate about Steve’s old USO costume, voices carrying down the halls with a lightheartedness that the rest of the team isn’t used to hearing.

“It made your ass look great,” you insist, causing Tony to snort and shoot an “I-told-you-so” look at Natasha. Sam silently laughs even harder when he hears the infamous Winter Soldier fully agree with you, even going into talking about how “lifting” the spandex was.

“You two are just pervs,” Steve laughs. “That uniform hid absolutely nothing.” Bucky elbows him.

“Bet the girls loved that,” he chuckles. Steve goes ten shades of red and hides his face in his hands, trying to ignore the teasing.

The lights in the kitchen flicker with your laughter, and a few of the Avengers glance up. Compound lights rarely flicker, much less go out. A perk of having a Stark running your tech.

The three of you stumble into the kitchen, and in the brief moment before you realize the whole group is gathered there, Natasha Romanoff notices three things.

One: Steve has never looked this happy. Not in the four years she’s known him. His features are lighter, the deep crease between his brow is relaxed. He finally looks his age.

Two: You and Barnes are much louder than you’ve been acting. She supposes guilt is making you more shy than usual. More than anything, she’s glad to see you smiling for once.

Three: The three of you are absolutely in love with one another.

Hidden glances, lingering touches. As the matchmaker of the group, she’s seen it dozens of times before. She knows the signs.

But she’s no fool. Her “mother” didn’t raise her to be one. The three of you are, in the most polite way possible, mentally fucked. It’s hard not to be, after 70 years are absolute shit. And that makes relationships more difficult and complicated than they already are.

Natasha makes a mental note that she’ll share with Wanda later.

The moment you turn and spot the group, your little trio freezes. You and Bucky go silent, though you’re still trying to hide occasional chuckles as he elbows Steve. The blond is mostly unaffected, though his smile cools a bit.

“Vis helped make sandwiches,” Wanda says, breaking the tense silence. “Come and try them.”

You oblige, taking one from the tray and sitting on a barstool. You leave one stool of space between you and Sam and tuck your wings close to your body, hoping to not trip anyone.

The Falcon leans in as conversation continues.

“Hey,” he whispers conspiratorially. You tilt your head. “Barton and I were wondering if you’d want to join the Bird Squad.”

The what? The look of confusion on your face has Sam explaining.

“You know, I’m the Falcon, he’s Hawkeye. You don’t have a bird-themed name, but hey, I think the wings are more than enough for you to qualify.”

Grinning at his antics, you nod. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll join the…”

“Bird Squad,” he says.

“The Bird Squad,” you finish. Bucky comes over just then, raising a brow at the man next to you.

“Please stop with the bird puns. The bird-patterned socks were bad enough,” he groans. Bucky takes the seat between you two nonetheless. He offers you the olives from the toothpick in his sandwich. You trade them for the crust off yours.

Next to Tony, Steve waits for the billionaire to speak first. The two can rarely ever talk without arguing, but he’s more than willing to try. For the team, if not for himself.

“I know we joke about you guys being old, but physically, how old are you actually?” Tony asks. He’s watching you peel the crust from your sandwich.

Steve huffs, calculating. “I turn 31 this year, and those two… Well, we don’t know how long they were in cryo between… missions.” He glances at you and Bucky. “She was 27 and he was 28 when they went under.”

The blond can’t read Tony’s expression as he nods, simply taking another sip of coffee. Steve takes it as a sign he’s done talking.

Circling around the counter and sitting on the other side of him, you offer a smile before passing an olive to him. He takes it gratefully.

Peter, apparently done eating, bounces out of his chair and hops on top of the counter in front of you. He immediately starts talking a mile a minute.

“Okay, this might be a weird question and you can totally say no, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything, I’m just really curious, but can I see your powers? It’s just, Ned- that’s my best friend- has been asking about how they work since he’s really interested in the physics of them and I just never have an answer and I feel bad-”

To stop him from losing his breath, you hold out your hand, summoning a small ball of light. You’ve been trying to keep your powers to a minimum here. You know better than most how destructive they can be, and the last thing you want to do is wreck the compound.

But a small, floating ball of light won’t do any damage. Strangely, it’s not even hot. The teen pokes at it, alarmed when his hand passes right through.

“Wait, if you can make solid objects with it, why is this…?” With a flick of your wrist, you feel the light change.

“It’s almost like changing the density,” you explain. “You probably understand it better than I ever will. I just know that it works.” When Peter touches the light again, it’s solid. You toss it, watching as it dissipates in the air.

He’s amazed, gaping for a few seconds before gathering himself, thanking you, and hurrying off to call his friend back. You lift up your hand again, allowing the light to flow and wisp-like smoke. Peter’s reaction makes you feel a bit better about your powers. He wasn’t scared, just curious.

“I told you,” Bucky quips. “Your powers aren’t something to be disgusted by.”

Huffing, you point to his left arm. “Then neither is that,” you counter.

“No, this is different.” The metal plates shift and rearrange with his movements. Steve watches, mesmerized by them. As horrible as its origin was, the intricate design of the prosthetic was something beautiful.

He says so, but Bucky shakes his head. You frown.

“Maybe if it wasn’t in so much pain all the time, you’d be able to feel a bit better about it. Just let me soothe the nerves, even just for a little bit,” you plead. Lowering your voice, you cut off his racing thoughts. “You don’t deserve to be in pain.”

Bucky considers your words. He shrugs, but doesn’t refuse. He watches you smile, quite literally lighting up the room.

Steve chuckles as the lights flicker, grabbing your empty plates and tossing them in the sink.

“I was thinking we could head into Brooklyn,” he suggests. “Our museum is open, so I figured we could stop by there and look through.”

He thinks for a moment, then nods to you. “Maybe you’ll finally open that lockbox and let the world in on whatever’s inside.”

The world? You know he means the news, the people that read about you. But those letters in there are for him and Bucky only.

To be fair, they are your whole world.

———————————————————————

People weren’t as invasive and nosy when they were wandering around your museum, you find. They seem more respectful as you wander the exhibits, trying to piece together your past.

The memories have been coming easier, but they still feel so distant. Like dreams, or a lingering sense of deja vu.

There are dozens of pictures lining the walls, descriptions neatly written below them. The three of you talking around a campfire, Steve and Bucky at the fair, a younger you proudly holding up a 1st place trophy, front teeth missing and a tiny bow clenched in your fist.

You trace your hands over them, mesmerized by how happy you look. You look lighter, softer. Not bearing a literal weight on your shoulders and eyes that always seem a bit sad.

Steve walks up behind you, following your wistful gaze as you soak up each photo and try to place it in your memories.

“Hey,” he says. You smile, so warm and so familiar that Steve’s knees almost buckle. “You like the museum?”

“It’s great,” you say, following the pictures around to a replica of your shared apartment. “Helps with the memories.” The couch catches your eye. With a bit of focus, some moments in time push through the fog.

Lazy nights when you three were too tired to move, instead piling on the couch and sleeping there. Camping out there when Steve was sick and you gave him the bed. Bucky coming home that day that started the end of it all.

Slowly, not wanting to overstep, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders, carefully navigating past your wings. You lean into his touch, sniffling a bit when Bucky joins you two, also staring at the battered couch.

One particular memory comes to mind. And you begin to hum.

You can’t remember the exact words, but you try your best as you begin to sway.

“It’s been a long, long time… Haven’t felt like this, my dear, since can’t remember when…”

Dancing. You three spent more money than you could afford on records for your little apartment, and after Sunday dinner it was your tradition to try and teach Steve to dance.

What you’re doing now is little more than shifting your weight. But it means the world to you and your boys. It means that you’re remembering. Bucky joins in humming, making his way through the refrain before trailing off.

“You said you’ve got a record player, didn’t you, Stevie?” he asks. Steve nods and begins talking about some of the older records he has when a particular glass case catches your eye.

Your lockbox. Behind the 4-inch bulletproof glass, the small box sits with its key placed beside it. You crouch to read the description.

‘In the final days before her disappearance, Agent (Y/N) (L/N) wrote what is estimated to be around a dozen letters and stored them in this box. While other letters she wrote were left out, no one knows what lies within the small cherry-wood box. Out of respect, it remains locked to this day.’

A picture of you sits beside the paragraph. Bow slung over your shoulder and dressed in your uniform, you stand tall and proud. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in the glass, you immediately shake your head to dissipate the lingering thoughts.

A woman steps up beside you. From the way she’s dressed and the keys in her pocket, you figure she works the museum. Your guess is confirmed when she gestures to the box.

“We were wondering when you’d stop by,” she says. “Anything here of yours that you want, just ask. We’re here to help in any way we can.” You smile gratefully, thanking her before glancing back at the box.

“Could I…?” The woman nods and wordlessly unlocks the case. She lifts your box with all the care in the world, handing it to you and wishing you well before whisking off.

Steve and Bucky catch up to you, spotting the box.

“They let you take it?” The former asks.

Holding it up, you grin. “Yeah. Guess they missed their timeframe on finding out what’s inside.”

“Will you tell us?” Bucky leans in, gently elbowing you.

Even thinking about the letters makes you blush. In your grief the days after their “deaths”, you’d poured every thought onto paper. The openness that you know lies on the pages sends embarrassment creeping under your skin.

“Maybe,” you finally say, tucking the box under your arm and stowing the key in your pocket. They both shrug, not pushing further, and move on to the next exhibit.

It’s an hour later when you leave, avoiding reporters and paparazzi as you clutch the lockbox close to your body. Making it back to the compound and into your room is much easier, though you still haven’t opened the box.

Steve and Bucky ran down to the kitchen to bug Sam, and in the meantime, you’ve been staring at it. The key is in your hand, the box is on your bed.

Since you’ve gotten home, you’ve showered, changed into pajamas, checked the news, and watched an episode of new show that caught your eye.

But you’re scared. You’ve already felt… that feeling lately. You fear that, if you open the box and reread the letters inside, it’ll only be intensified.

A part of HYDRA’s process was breaking you down into a weapon. To them, you weren’t a person capable of giving or receiving such an emotion. They made you believe it. That you were only good for their missions.

If you open the box, you aren’t sure if you can handle keeping a secret like that from your boys. You aren’t sure if you could handle telling them, either.

They’re all you have left. Losing them through your own actions would destroy you.

Still, you grip the key in your hand, steel your nerves, and unlock the box.

Gently opening it, you blow away the dust coating the old paper before carefully lifting the stack of letters and setting them on your bed. You grab one, unfolding it and hyping yourself up before reading the first words.

‘Dear Steve Rogers and James Barnes,

This is the fourth letter I’ve written. Without either of you, there isn’t much else to do except think and write. And I’ve been doing a lot of both. There are plenty of things I wish I’d told you, but before everything else, I wish that I had told you I love you. Yes, still. And while I can’t tell you when it started, a part of me feels like it’s always been there. Like a fact of life I’ve lived with ever since that day on the playground.

I don’t think telling you would’ve changed how things went. Maybe you two would’ve been more careful if we’d had more to lose. But I’m so tired of entertaining what-if questions, so I’ll deal with that thought down for another time.

Missing you feels like too weak of a word to describe what I feel. You’ve been perhaps the only permanent thing in my life. Everything else changes too fast for me to keep up. School, work, whatever else people worry about now. But you were my constant. The one thing I could rely on. Even if the sun didn’t rise one day, I always thought you’d be there. And now I’m alone.

Steve, you were always so full of energy. Even when sick, you’d always have something to say or a new drawing to work on. I never admitted it, but I loved watching you draw. You had a real talent there. Seeing you become Captain America was the best and worst thing, I think. Knowing that you were healthy, even better than me and Buck, was a weight lifted. But the world doesn’t know you. They aren’t mourning you, they’re mourning their symbol. I can’t forgive them for that.

Bucky, the day you were drafted has always stayed in my mind. You were scared for the first time I can remember, shaking on our couch that I can’t go back to. I can’t go back to that apartment alone. I'll always remember the late nights in the kitchen, when Steve would go to bed early and you’d tell me all about some new scientific discovery or invention that you’d read about. The world doesn’t talk about that part of you.

I can hear Peggy and the other Commandos talking. They’re worried about me, I think. I can’t blame them. I sleep more than I ever have, write, and take dinner in my tent. Colonel Phillips hasn’t said anything yet.

The world is moving on without us. I may not be dead, but I think after losing you, I’m not completely alive.’

Sniffling, you wipe your eyes and fold the letter back up, setting it in the box along with the others. You remember bits and pieces of the time after they “died”, and true to the letter, you’d spiraled in the remaining weeks before you’d caved.

A knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call. With your feet dangling off the bed, you don’t need to sit up to know the two sets of footsteps.

The sun hangs low in the sky, and even at the end of the day the compound bustles with agents and doctors. You yawn, stretching your muscles. You’ve found that your energy levels tend to rise and fall with the sun.

Even though it’s early, Steve and Bucky are more than willing to turn in for the night. A lazy night in is far more appealing than watching more news on the Avengers and the Accords, and dinner could be ordered in without much fuss.

“Are you done for the day?” the blond asks, sitting beside you. Bucky moves the throw pillows from the bed, tossing them around the room with no regards to where they land.

You shrug. “I want to go help clean up after dinner, don’t wanna leave Wanda to do it on her own.”

“Wanda can move things with her mind, I think she’ll be okay with doing the dishes for one night.” Scooping you up while Bucky throws the covers back, he unceremoniously dumps you onto the plush bed as you shriek.

Reaching over to grab a pillow, you swat at him, only to receive a pillow to the face from the brunet behind you. Before it devolves into a full-on pillow war, you raise your hands in truce, laying down to catch your breath.

Your boys follow suit, laying down with you. You tuck your wings in, wrapping them around yourself on both sides like the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever touched.

“This is nice,” Bucky mumbles into the blankets. You nod, closing your eyes to avoid facing just how close they are. Normally you wouldn’t mind. But you blush easily, and something like that would raise questions.

You listen as Steve calls in a pizza, followed by another call of him asking Vision to pick it up, seeing as he was the fastest one in the compound. Poking at a stray feather, you blink hazily in the golden light.

The food arrives minutes later, and you finish the pizza just as the sun starts to graze the treeline. Steve and Bucky get ready for bed as you turn on the TV and collect some more blankets, only increasing the growing pile on the bed. The cold doesn’t bring good memories to any of you.

Once you finish, you lightly pat the bed, gesturing for Bucky to sit.

“You said you’d let me work your shoulder,” you remind him, tone stern. Steve helps you, tugging your friend in front of you. He sits in front of him, making sure he doesn’t try to start another pillow fight.

“You don’t have to do this,” Bucky says to both of you. Your responses are the same.

“I know.”

You can feel the warmth of your healing radiating from your hand. “You ready?” you ask. Steve takes his hands, calming him as he takes deep breaths. He nods.

You’ve seen the x-rays. The sketches of the metal arm and exactly how it’s designed. It’s a medical nightmare, put simply.

A titanium limb far outweighed a normal arm, meaning Bucky walked with a tilt, which led to back pain and a constant soreness in his neck muscles. In an attempt to support the heavy prosthetic, HYDRA had poorly grafted the metal onto the surrounding bones, covering parts of his clavicle and sternum.

All of this combined puts him in a world of pain. And now that he’s finally letting you work on it, you wonder how he didn’t break sooner.

The pain radiates from where the metal attaches, searing across his back and up the left side of his head. His muscles are knotted and tense, struggling to receive input from the destroyed nerves.

Bucky’s wincing as you work, trying his best not to shout in pain and relief as your powers mend his invisible wounds. Steve notices, and in an attempt to distract him, taps your lockbox.

“So, you ever gonna tell us what’s in this?” Since he’s facing you, he gets a perfect view of how you turn two shades pinker, fumbling and accidentally brightening the nearby lamp.

You cough, shrugging. “Maybe.” Your tone suddenly becomes a bit sad. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“Ready for…?” Bucky asks.

“Ready for you two to know.” That’s all you say, focusing on soothing the nerves in his neck.

Both Steve's and Bucky’s minds jump to the same thing.

Steve’s known exactly what he’s felt for you two ever since middle school, when he asked his ma if he could be in love with two people at once. Sarah had smiled knowingly, nodded, and watched his little mind run and slowly take in what that meant.

But he never said anything. Bucky started going on dates and you turned your focus on studying, and he’d never found the perfect moment like all his books talked about. No screaming confessions in the rain or dramatic dances at a fancy party. He thought he might find that moment as Captain America, but constant missions made that a bit hard.

All he has is this room, Bucky’s hands in his, and your eyes occasionally meeting his own.

Bucky didn’t realize his feelings until he was taken by HYDRA for the first time. He’d always enjoyed dating around, more for the experience of learning about someone than anything else. Settling with one person when everyone was so different seemed so boring and bland. And then he almost died.

During his capture, he had a lot of time to think. And the only people he could ever see living with for the rest of his life were you two. Sure, it was unorthodox, but so was everything you three did together. Damn all tradition to hell, he swore that, if he got out of that place alive, he’d tell you both. But that never happened. Instead, he got 70 years as a puppet.

All he has is this room, Steve whispering nonsense to calm him down, and your gentle hands mending every source of pain you can find.

“There. All done.” Sitting back, you flick your hands, sending stray tendrils of light flying away.

The sun has long since disappeared, and you can spot a few stars from the window. Going to bed early won’t change the fact that none of you will sleep well. Nightmares always come for at least one of you.

Tonight, you take the middle. Laying on your stomach, Bucky and Steve slide in on both sides as you rest your wings atop them.

For a while, you sit in silence.

Steve breaks it.

“The thing you aren’t ready to tell us, whatever it is, you know we’ll always be here, right?” he asks. You nod immediately. You never doubted that. Not once. You’re scared of how things will change, though.

“I know. Not like you’d ever let us get away,” you laugh.

Bucky hums, content and almost floaty due to the lack of pain. “You’d chase us to the bottom of the ocean, wouldn’t you, punk?”

“Jerk,” Steve huffs, tugging up one of the many blankets.

Eyes fluttering shut, you manage a “Dumbasses” before you slip into sleep.

Making sure you’re not awake, Bucky glances at Steve.

“So, we both know what those letters say?” He knows you well enough that he’s confident in his suspicions.

Steve hesitates, but agrees. “Yeah. A pretty good guess, at least.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“She’s not the only one.”

“Yeah. But we’ll wait.”

“We’ll wait.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #bucky barnes x winged!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x winged!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x winged!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader

[beardedmrbean]

Stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a crowd of 100,000 people in central London, a helicopter hovering above St James’s Park could be heard over the hushed crowd.

The hum was only a little louder than the rustling of winter coats and rhythm of feet along the pavement past old Fleet Street watering holes, less a march than a shuffle.

No flares were launched, no masks were worn. No vehicles were damaged and police acted as helpful hi-vis markers of the route, unburdened by the threat of violence. 

The dozens of riot vans brought in from across the South East sat unused.

The 1,000 police on duty had an easy day’s overtime compared to the demonstrations of recent weeks. 

“No, nothing at all. It’s been very calm,” one female officer told a protester who asked how her day was going.

One helped a bedraggled wayward jogger find his way out of the crowd and towards a less congested route. 

More marshal than law enforcement

Another gave a child on his father’s shoulders a high-five, before getting a pat on the back and a thanks from a Jewish man wearing a Kippah.

Their role felt more marshal than law enforcement, with only two arrests made. 

The biggest furore of the day was when Tommy Robinson appeared.

He was forced to leave by police, unwanted by the Jewish organisers of the event.

Boris Johnson, pictured above, received a much better reception, prompting cheers that broke the quiet when he arrived with wife Carrie and five-month-old Frank, chatting to demonstrators surrounding him.

David Baddiel, Judge Rob Rinder, Rev Richard Coles and Rachel Riley were all spotted in the hordes who had turned up to march against anti-Semitism along with the Chief Rabbi.

”Since Oct 7, on the streets of London, we have heard chants for jihad, for intifada and from River to the Sea,” said Sir Ephraim Mirvis. 

“But today we stand on the same streets of London and say with regard to our precious hostages: Bring Them Home.”

He headed up the mass of people moving through the Strand and towards Parliament Square.

 There was an awkwardness to the crowd’s chants. Many, on their first march, preferred to keep quiet than to join in the singing, with tunes dying out in moments.

‘It’s a bit tame! What do we chant?’

Some picked up last-minute Israeli flags on wooden sticks for £5 from outside Tube stations while others braved the drizzle wearing theirs like capes.

“It’s a bit tame, isn’t it? What do we chant?” wondered Olivia, a Jewish woman in her late 20s, there with her boyfriend and their friend.

Elsewhere, a mother pushing her baby in the pram walked her golden cocker spaniel puppy alongside.

Only when calls of “bring them home” began echoing around the streets did the heft of tens of thousands of people in mourning become apparent.

Three twenty-something men using a small megaphone led a rendition of Am Yisrael Chai. As hundreds join in, one jokes that he “does weddings too”.

They carried a banner stating “Failure to condemn Hamas is anti-Semitic”.  

Another sign saying “Give me antipasti, not anti-Semitism” became a prop for protesters to pose with, while a child was heard reading another out loud “Spread hummus, not hate”.

Jews were supported by non-Jews. Six-year-old Claudia held her mother Antonia’s hand as the family joined the rally because they were “appalled that anti-Semitism has returned to Britain’s streets”.

Mark Elliott-Smith, a  priest at Our Lady of the Assumption Warwick Street, said: “I thought I had to be here and show solidarity. I’ve been on a few of the demonstrations. When I wrote something about it [anti-Semitism], I was called ‘a Nazi priest’.”

‘I’d feel safer in Israel than in Britain’

Rev Coles, bringing up the rear of the protest, said he had joined because many of his Jewish friends now feel frightened to walk down the street. “I find that intolerable,” he said.

Rueben and Natalie, a young, Jewish, married couple with family in Israel came out to march. 

Natalie said that she would “feel safer in Israel, even as the bombs are falling, than in Britain”, her husband nodding wearily. His three brothers live there already.

“At least in Israel you feel like the state is looking after us, that the police are there to protect you, that the whole nation is with you,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like that here.”

The protest culminated with speeches from political and religious leaders. 

Anti-Semitism ‘a stain on our country’

The crowd’s reception to the speakers was muted at first, but immigration minister Robert Jenrick won over the crowd in Parliament Square, telling the thousands packed around Parliament that anti-Semitism “is a stain on our country”.

“Your government will not rest until each and every one of [the hostages] is back in the loving embrace of their families. We stand with Israel,” he went on.

Peter Kyle, there as member of the shadow cabinet and vice chairman of Labour Friends of Israel, spoke after Mr Jenrick warmed the crowds up.

“After the most shameful period in my party’s history, I am enormously proud of the leadership Keir Starmer has shown in combating anti-Semitism and standing up for the British Jewish community,” he said.

It was this that drew the biggest cheer of the afternoon, before the crowd went quiet again as they began their journey home. 

Gideon Falter, the chief executive of Campaign against Antisemitism which organised the march, said: “The voice of decency has been heard today.”

#nunyas news #the stark contrast between the different events #is a reflection of the values behind the people in charge #of the different events

[ferromagnetiic]

Absolutely NO ONE could have been able to prepare Linn for one of Kid's infamous birthday parties. She was very aware of there being lots of drinks; finding herself too indulging in one or other intoxicating liquor, however, was not on her list tonight. And all after telling herself she will be responsible and stay sober. Oh well. That was something the mink was promising hours ago. Time really was fleeting. Her little fluffy head is fogged up, waddling clumsily around the table and trying to maneuver her feet towards the birthday boy in question.

     ❝ CAPTAAAAAIN   !   How arr yoo doin'   ? ❞     Her rough tongue brings out only slurred words, accompanied by happily narrowed eyes. Bloodshot already. Patting her captain's broad shoulder with a prideful purr, Linn managed to position a finely wrapped box, not even small, onto the redhead's lap.     ❝ A li'l somethin' frum the ship's kidden, y'know   ? ❞     An embarrassing giggle, which most likely will be a weapon of teasing tomorrow.

Knowing her captain oh so well, the feline got her hands on a starter kit for wood and metal work. Something you would not gift a grown adult, rather a child between six and ten years old. He liked tinkering, right   ?   Maybe the shopkeeper misread her description of searching for a present for a tech fanatic 'kid' wrong. Unfortunate name his mother picked for him in that case.

     ❝ C'mon on now. Open it. Open ~ . . . ❞     Idly 'holding' his drink, taking a sip juuust to make sure it was not poisoned, and soon having trouble gulping down the burning liquid, a sharp breath. The cat lounges against his arm, eyes fixed on the box. He must like it.     ❝ Fffuck whad the hell arr yoo zzrinkin'   ?   Kerosene   ? ! ❞

     【 KID'S BIRTHDAY 2024. 】 @medicus-felini

           The cat's pissed.      Completely and utterly sloshed. The celebration has only just started, and she's obviously completely lost herself to the juice already. She rarely partakes in casual daytime drinking nor wild drunken partying alike, so Kid supposes it's inevitable that she would succumb to her intoxication faster than the rest of them. She's slurring her words and giddily stumbling around, but she looks like she's loving every moment of it, so he can't say he has any objections. It's nice to have her joining them; he was concerned she might become overly paranoid and start trying to lecture him about not accidentally meeting his untimely end by poisoning his liver. As long as nobody needs to get their stomach pumped after she inevitably blacks out later, it would all be fine.

She ambles over to him like a newborn kitten just learning where her feet are, and then she is swiping his drink from him and barely downing a single sip from the glass. Copper eyes follow her movements, though he does not intend to restrain her before the liquid has slipped down her throat.

❝ Naw, nooh kerosene; gotta ask Heat for that. Tha's absinthe. Bit much for the ship's kitten, ay? ❞

Though he is usually averse to being touched, tonight he is hammered, he is surrounded by people he loves, and he is happy. With scarcely enough time for her to catch her breath, he abruptly ensnares her with his right arm to pull her tightly against his side in a drunken embrace. His body radiates warmth, and his breath carries traces of all the drinks he has already finished, but he still holds her directly against him anyway.

❝ Oi, oi. Bein' spoiled, am I? Figured ye'd just write me a prescription. Nooh a half chewed rat, is it? ❞ The part about the dead rat is obviously a joke. The part about the prescription is also a joke unless she decides to actually take him up on it.

His smile is broad, all teeth, like he's thoroughly entertained by her inebriation. Taking the box she's delivering to him, he continues to squeeze her even more firmly against his torso, pinching her between his arm and his body as he uses both hands to unwrap the gift in his lap. It was beautifully presented until he peels the paper apart, and he automatically hands the decorative ribbon to her for her to play with if she pleases.

The picture on the front of the box and the colorful letters leave no amount of room for questioning what it is. A children's woodwork project kit, which when completed will create a little wooden boat with metal wheels on the underside so it can roll across the floor. There are no sharp instruments involved; only pre-cut pieces of wood, some screws, tiny metal wheels that must be assembled, and a square sheet of soft sandpaper. It was the kind of simplistic design that even tots barely out of their infancy could piece together without much assistance from an adult.

As soon as he's registered what it is she's given him, he's lifting the top of the box to peer at the pieces inside. The wooden blocks, intended for the smallest of hands, feel vaguely familiar, despite the fact he was never gifted a set like this in his youth.

The memory is hazy, but he still distantly remembers almost twenty years ago — making his own toys out of whatever pieces of scrap he found lying on the ground. In the days before he had anyone on his side, he built his friends out of tin cans and pieces of wire. He vaguely recalls one in particular; a soup can 'robot' with a menacing smile he painted on for its face. The can he used for his head had originally been crudely stabbed open with a knife, and the ends of the wire he used for his body were exposing needle-sharp tips, so every time he played with it he would end up with fresh cuts and smears of blood on his hands — yet, despite that, he carried that little silver doll around like his favorite toy for as long as he could hold on to it.

          He doesn't remember exactly what became of it. It was just a painted tin can, after all.

That younger him would've fawned, thrilled, and marveled over the cast metal and limewood underneath the press of impatiently indulgent fingers. A toy of similar caliber would’ve never made it into his possession, no matter how much effort he invested in saving up. It's a few years late, but that's just how things work out sometimes, he supposes.

Red lips abruptly plant themselves on top of the Mink's hair, delivering a swift kiss to her head, staining her in a perfect blotch of lipstick; an obnoxious patch that would doubtlessly remain for the rest of the night.

Had someone else amongst his crew been the one to hand him such a ridiculous gift, he would've perhaps taken it to be a good-natured prank; or an affectionate tease at best, aiming to bait him. The whole lot of them: playfully, wonderfully annoying in the only way that's familiar to their petulant captain. It seems unlikely that Linn would be guilty of committing the same crime. She was the sweetest of their bunch — and would sooner profusely apologize than risk aggravating him.

Hell, Kid won't even allude to the fact that it's been a pretty damn long time since he last considered an entry level kit like this as being anywhere near challenging. Gag gift or not, the sight of her earnest excitement made it clear that the present had come from a good place with thoughtful intentions. He merely snorts, and continues to drawl.

     ❝ Ah, yer a guid girl, Linn.           Thank ye. ❞

          With that, he's then replacing the lid back on top so he doesn't disrupt any of the pieces inside, mindful to not let anything fall out only for it to become lost for the rest of time underneath a chair.

     ❝ ...Hoo plastered d'ya think I can get if I take a shot for e'ery piece I put together? ❞

          The gift is so well appreciated it will now be turned into a drinking game.

#tw drinking #tw alcohol #medicus-felini #medicus felini #kid's birthday 2024 #【 ⚙ ˊˎ | GET OUT OF MY WAY | ask. 】 #【 ⚙ ˊˎ | RECKLESS TONGUE | ic. 】 #// DRUNK LINN IS SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER #// aghjkh why is she so adorable what the hell #// love u fungy love u linn #// also you know where this is going with that sandpaper (: #// thank you for this ask it made me smile so much #// i enjoyed imagining them being drunk and silly together #// kid getting so drunk he can't remember his own name and struggling to put this wooden boat together because he's just GONE #// i was imagining him like. #// is going to take a shot for every piece of the kit he assembles. #// the kit: CONTAINS 74 PIECES! #// kid ends up being the one who gets his stomach pumped later. that was foreshadowing. #// (i'm joking no he doesn't he's fine.)

[sapphos-catpanions]

“No, it’s not about young gays and lesbians – at least not in the way you think.

“When I first entered the gender debate about ten years ago, the entire concept of childhood transition was barely on the radar. It wasn’t until a few years later – especially with the debut of TLC’s I Am Jazz in 2015 – that you started to see the focus of the debate shift from adults to children. But when TERFs did notice that referrals to gender clinics were slowly starting to rise, most of them immediately interpreted it as a form of modern-day conversion therapy. Homophobic parents, so the story goes, where turning their gay sons into straight daughters and lesbian daughters into straight sons.

“At the time, that was probably an accurate assessment. When the first wave of detransitioners emerged in the middle of the 2010’s, it was made up almost entirely of young gays and lesbians. I don’t consider myself part of that wave – although I spent my high school years identifying as various flavors of transgender too, I was lucky enough to grow up in a region where access to any real medical intervention was pretty much impossible – but I would still say my own attraction to gender theory was also intimately wrapped up with my own sexuality and the pressures I felt from the conservative community I found myself in. Back then, there just wasn’t much of a reason for straight kids to find transition appealing, whereas there was a certain type of LGB kid for whom it made sense in a twisted way.

“But things have changed a lot in the years since gender theory began exploding into popular culture, and the narratives that previously made sense are rapidly becoming irrelevant. In my two and half years teaching in this district, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gay or lesbian student transition to better “fit in” with heterosexuality. Nowadays, gay and lesbian teenagers mainly live their lives as, well, gay and lesbian teenagers – it’s the socially awkward heterosexuals who flock around them, desperate for a “marginalized identity” of their own, that you need to be worrying about.

“In other words: It used to be that childhood transition was a way for gay kids to make themselves straight, but now it’s primarily a way for straight kids to make themselves gay. And why wouldn’t they? In these internet-poisoned youth subcultures, being a boring straight kid (especially a boring straight girl!) puts you at the absolute bottom of the hierarchy, a totally acceptable target for barely-concealed contempt and passive bullying. I had a group of queer students who ate lunch by my desk every day, and every other joke they made was about the one “token heterosexual” who liked to hang out with them. Of course, she was non-binary too by the end of the year – you can only take peers “punching up” at you for so long before you’d want to join them on their level.

“This, more than anywhere else, is where common TERF arguments break down. It’s not that modern gender theory isn’t homophobic. It is, undoubtedly. But it’s homophobic less in the sense that it represses homosexuality and more that it elevates it to a sort of in-demand cultural signifier, wildly disconnected from any actual same-sex desire. Ironically, the TERF impulse to immediately center gay and lesbian youth in these talking points is part of the problem – most of these children are transitioning precisely because they want to roleplay as an oppressed minority, and the assumption that every social ill must always have a unique impact on LGB people in particular just feeds that obsession. If you really want to stop children from transitioning, you better start saying it’s for boring straight kids, not gay ones!

__

“As I wrap up, let me just say: I don’t want anyone who reads this piece to think TERFs are only “half right,” just because I’m pointing out some places where their analysis goes wrong. On everything that actually matters, they’re the only ones out there today consistently capturing the reality I see on the ground. It’s just that they noticed what was going on before anyone else did, back when all this nonsense was strictly the domain of a few fanatics and its primary victims were gay and lesbian kids; it’s no surprise that some of their talking points are in need of an update in 2022, now that gender theory is a full-blown social phenomenon. But their fundamental analysis still captures something essential that snappier criticisms from conservatives and centrists often miss.

“You can’t understand gender theory today unless you understand teenage girls today – and like it or not, you can’t understand teenage girls today if you’re tuning out the feminists who have been ringing alarm bells for decades now. So go find some TERFs and really listen to what they have to say, as long as you remember that the situation is changing rapidly and not everything that was right on the money years ago is perfectly accurate now. As for me, I’ve got about fifteen more sensitivity trainings to wrap up.”

https://wesleyyang.substack.com/p/gender-theory-in-schools-two-things?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

#gender dysphoria #trans #nonbinary

[dreadsuitsamus]

fuck it just gonna write a little bit about my selfship family with kensei under the cut bc i want to 🤷‍♀️

we end up having four kids, three sons and a daughter. the boys are close in age, with our oldest (dominic) being only three years older than the twins (beck and phoenix). mila came around when the twins were ten, and it was entirely unplanned and unexpected but not unwelcome at all! kensei loves the boys very much, but when our last baby was revealed to be a girl he was happy to have a change of pace. boys are messy 🫠 he spent so long being a boy dad though, that he had no clue how to parent a little girl lol so our little mila has grown up in a very rough and tumble lifestyle, with the boys being rowdy and playful and her father often joining in or even straight up just starting the chaos himself. there are plenty of times where we sit on the couch while kensei and the boys wrestle, but as the energetic little bug she is, she can't help but join in eventually in a vain attempt to save one of her brother's from daddy's clutches. my bastard husband likes to drag me into it too, literally 😵‍💫 fucker will grab my ankle and pull me off the couch, literally no one is safe in our house except for our orange cat julian, though even he usually ends up jumping on top of the pile.

our kids are well behaved and respectful, though rambunctious as all hell. it can be troublesome for me to get them to calm down on my own, though The Look™ usually chills them out. when all else fails, though, kensei's drill sergeant voice booming will get them to pipe down and relax.

dominic, our first born, looks just like kensei, but younger and with freckles. he's tall, has fluffy white/silver hair, though he has heterochromia! one eye is brown, just like kensei's, and the other is blue, like mine. when he was little he had the cutest chubby cheeks, though they quickly went away as he started growing up. he's a spitting image of his father, and i always joke that the one blue eye is just about the only proof i have that he came from me. i'm his favorite parent 🤭 he says that my cuddles are better than his dad's, since kensei is all muscle and i'm like a pillow and blanket combined, since i'm so warm.

beck and phoenix are identical twins, and kensei's genes have once again absolutely steamrolled my own, though mine did fight back more than with dominic. the twins are blond, and that is a win in my eyes!! their eyes are brown and they also end up being quite tall, as kensei is 5'10 and a half (he insists on the half) while i am 5'10 myself. my favorite part about them is just how funny they are. they make kensei laugh so hard he turns red and has to excuse himself to go wipe away his tears 💀 he has never gotten through a parent-teacher conference without laughing at whatever prank they pulled on the class, and the only reason i bring him along to those meetings anymore is so i won't do the laughing myself. kensei can stand their energy more than me, and so they tend to gravitate towards him a little more than me.

mila, my precious, sweet baby girl, is really just all me with her father's hair color and eye shape. and attitude. kensei insists she gets that from me too but i disagree. she has kensei and her brothers wrapped around her finger and i find it quite amusing watching her play them for fools. and that she did get from me. she's her brother's broke best friend, as anytime they go anywhere all she has to do is ask in that sweet little baby voice of hers if she can go too and that's it. they're gone, and so is their allowance and paychecks when they get old enough to work. she's decided when she grows up, she wants to be a lawyer and when she told kensei, he thought about how expensive college would be and asked her why she couldn't be a dumbass like the twins 🤦‍♀️ mila's favorite place to be is between me and kensei, and even at twelve years old she hasn't grown out of that yet, which is perfectly fine with us!

the boys found julian in the backyard one day after kensei had kicked them out of the house so baby mila and i could get some much-needed sleep. he was a small little kitten and when kensei looked into those little dark eyes he was hooked. i'm his favorite and sometimes, he's my favorite too lmao he's not very bright sometimes and is a crazy thing, but the muguruma family is batshit insane so he fits right in.

kensei and i are as close as ever, even with four kids, a cat, and full time jobs for the both of us. we've been through a lot during our marriage, some times darker than others, but the love has never wavered once. we're thick as thieves and it's us against the world, always. we go on two dates a week, and one of our favorite spots is a drive-in movie theater and all we do is makeout in the bed of his truck lmao we haven't actually watched a movie in years. he's got my name tattooed in beautiful cursive on his right hand, but i couldn't tell you the last time he referred to me by my name rather than 'babe', 'babygirl', or 'beautiful'. i just call him ken 💀

#ellie.talks #selfship #kensei selfship

[jmdbjk]

Grab a beer and let’s talk.

I got a LOT to say. And the following is all over the place.

I wrote this about an hour after having my heart ripped out while watching Namjoon try to stifle his tears while speaking: 

Just putting this out there because we are all being raw and open today: One thing they cannot realize yet is that when you are not around people you work with day in and day out, if they don’t maintain contact often by spending time together, you sometimes can’t help but become distant. 

It is just a natural thing. It has happened to me several times after leaving a workplace where I was close to people but couldn’t stay in touch after leaving. This is their first job. They don’t know what it’s like to leave the only work family they’ve ever known and pursue something else.

BUT they’ve been together this long, they’ve spent so much time together, they ARE family, they said it during this Festa Dinner, THEY ARE FAMILY. So even though you are apart now, when you do finally get together with family that you might not see often, if you have that familial bond, it will feel like you were never apart. You just fall back into your family rhythm. I have had that happen to me as well with people I became extra close with at work but didn’t keep in close contact with. We can go years without speaking but when we see each other, there’s no awkwardness, it’s like family. Sometimes a bond forms and its there forever. Unexplainable.

We keep saying they’ve been trying to prepare Army for a while now but I think they’ve been mostly trying to prepare themselves to tell us.

All that was the first thing I thought of to write when I believed they were actually putting BTS on hold indefinitely. My reaction was to express my concern that they are leaving a place/job/daily life that is all they’ve known for the last ten years and maybe not be able to find their way back.

Then after hearing about HYBE’S clarification on the “hiatus/it’s not a hiatus it’s a break/time off period/whatever the fuck its called” my heart stood up out of its puddle of tears and I edited through these thoughts:

Going back in time to the V Live in Vegas back in April with Hobi, Jimin, Tae and finally joined by JK. They knew. They knew way before then too. 

They knew what they were working on and what was in store. I want to think they were already invigorated by it. They talked about Jimin’s new song (With You) and Jimin and Hobi joked about going to each other’s concerts!

Looking back at the ending ments of their Vegas concerts it really seemed like Hobi was savoring those moments, you could read it on his face and hear it in his words.

And the other day, Jimin taking the time to monitor Army during their music show tapings instead of sleeping, he knew these moments were precious and winding down to the last minute. I think he probably felt a pang of guilt because no one knew what was in store for us this morning. I love him so much. 

BUT NOW I REALIZE THEY ARE STILL DOING THINGS AS A GROUP AND WILL REPORT TO “WORK” JUST NOT MUSICAL WORK and probably not as tight and full of a schedule. But maybe by the end of this year we will have Run BTS again! 

And during the Festa dinner, the teasing from JK to JM about hearing Jimin’s new songs he’s working on...THEY KNOW WE KNOW. I am doing a whole post just on that brief few minutes of the Festa dinner shortly.

One of the things that Joon said was kind of a negative thing about the idol system and how it didn’t allow artists to mature and thinking about that I mean we as fans, we’re maturing and living a normal life as the years go by, having boyfriends/girlfriends and getting married and having babies and all kinds of stuff but the idols, if you’re an idol in an idol group you don’t get to do those kinds of things, you don’t get to share those kinds of things with the world, you’re sort of stuck in a glass jar and you’re supposed to stay timeless and young and it’s very restricting and I can see why there’s a seven year time limit for idol groups to stay together. In BTS‘s case they’ve been kind of making it up in uncharted territory as far as idols go these last few years after they crossed the 7 year mark and I think they’ve come to see how detrimental it is to just keep working nonstop.

I have several draft posts saved about mental health and what I think happened from mid year 2020 through 2021. One of the things I had thought was that the unwanted break really made all of them re-prioritize. The pandemic did that to all of us. 

Now we all know the truth, they were planning to take this non-hiatus hiatus after their MOTS:ON:E world tour. And then all of it was pulled out from under them. 

But they regrouped and put out an album and Dynamite came into being. And they spoke at the UN again. And again. And then went to the White House and spoke again about important issues.

Their New Year messages on December 31, 2020 that were supposed to reflect on 2020 and look forward to 2021 were so somber. They did not get the closure they needed. 

Some of the posts I have in my drafts about mental health were my thoughts about how the loss of their last concert tour visibly impacted Jimin. 

By the time they headed to Los Angeles, they already knew the PTD concerts might be it for a while. The rough plan was in motion.

The New Year messages on December 31, 2021 were a huge difference from the previous year’s. By December 31, 2021 they already knew they were going to be able to be more free in doing their own thing. We got individual Instagrams. We knew Hobi was working on his music. 

They’ve spent the last six months trying to get us and themselves ready for changes. We will learn about all the new stuff soon. All in due time. 

Joon’s words during the Festa dinner were filled with regret, resentment, guilt and uncertainty about how to proceed as BTS and how responsible he feels about what he personally says on behalf of the group. He strongly reiterated how much he needs to be on his own for a while. 

As he began talking about his concerns about hanging on to BTS he says he felt he knew what BTS was all about through Dynamite but after Butter and Permission to Dance he wasn’t sure what kind of group they were any more. I think that’s why the lyric in Yet to Come says back to square 1. 

Yoongi does say he keeps very busy doing all kinds of things these days, mostly because they are things he wants to accomplish and in a year or two when they are doing concerts again, he will not have time to do them. He is speaking like a man who sort of knows how the future (at least the next two years) might play out...like they have a rough idea of how long they will be away from a group stage (31:19).

But we know who is working on something: Hobi, who will release his work first. Jimin, Tae, Jin and Joon. According to Jin, everyone has their release date planned except him. But then JK says his will come out after Yoongi’s. I am not sure if he is being facetious as in “Yoongi is not working on anything and mine will come out after that.” Unless I missed where Yoongi mentioned he was working on his own music...

Joon said he (and maybe all of them) had mixed feelings about doing the music shows that are coming up, that they did the pre-recordings for last week, but felt strongly that they had to do something and they yearned so much to hear K-Army cheering again. (excuse me while I cry a minute)

They know that we are wild about the song Run Bulletproof and they want to have a performance of it, they even mentioned that there’s choreography already being created for it. They said next time they perform together it will be included. That song would just blow everything out of the water if it was released and performed live.

Them talking about the friendship tattoos. And deferring to the tattoo experts of the group, Jimin and Jungkook, to come up with a possible tattoo for them all. Kookie almost pulling up his sleeve to show his arm...sksksksks

I have no doubt that Jungkook made the appointment with his tattooist and will accompany Tae just to ease his mind about the quick process. For all we know, Yoongi might accompany them too. I hope we get to see them soon!

Jin started out saying he had wanted to be an actor so he could experience different things but he became an idol instead and got to experience even more things than he ever thought possible. They said he could still do some acting, but being the unambitious person he has always claimed to be, he said he would just be ready when it was time to be an idol again.

Kookie looks excited about being able to do whatever he wants. Everyone commented about how wise and mature he’s become. And also that he’s the most eccentric person Yoongi knows.

Tae has felt like he’s been holding back and now has a chance to do things he’s always wanted to do. The small slivers of himself he has shown us, his social butterfly personality, his great snippets of his music...I hope he lets it all fly to the sky this year.

Hobi was tearing up throughout the entire dinner and Kookie said he’s about to make us all cry again. Hobi says this is a very important moment for BTS and hoped we understand why it’s happening. (excuse me again while I cry)

Jimin says they are nothing without Army and he just wants the members to be able to tell us everything and for us to take their words as they say them as they are AND NOT MAKE UP BULLSHIT (sorry, I added that last part).

Joon wonders how he (and BTS) came from such a small place and managed to reach the things they have. He too wishes they could be free of the world’s constrictions and speak freely about everything because he believes Army deserves that from them, Jimin chimes in again saying that even though they’ve grown along with Army, they cannot share everything with us and that is the saddest and hardest thing. Joon manages to make everyone start crying. 

They all speak as if there is no such thing as military enlistment. I suppose we will find out what the deal is with that eventually.

They were obviously all a little tipsy. They were all very emotional at the end. But they all seemed relieved and happy even though we are all crying lumps of emotion here at the end.

I am exhausted emotionally. I think we all are. I need to create a meme to illustrate what we’ve been through since June 9. 

I am so sorry this was so long but I had to get it all out so I could move on. I am not leaving this blog and I hope y’all stick around too.

I will follow up with something we all love to see. 

#they gave so much to us #and we took so much #i hope we gave enough back #100% in this bangtan shit for life #i'm sorry there are no pretty pictures in this post

[ksfoxwald]

2022 in Books

My reading stats for this year are so weird because I started reading a lot of children's chapter books and graphic novels. According to Storygraph I've read 292 books this year, and I know I didn't include everything.

Since it's hard to really compare all the things I've read, I've made 3 different top ten lists based on the sorts of things I read this year.

Top Five Books 1. The Wolf Among the Wild Hunt by Merc Fenn Wolfmoor 2. Gryphon Ranger: Crossline Plains by Roz Gibson 3. Flames of Hope by Tui T. Sutherland 4. I Hope We Choose Love by Kai Cheng Thom 5. By the Silver Wind by Jess Owen

Top Graphic Novels 1. Magical Boy by The Kao 2. Dog Man by Dav Pilkey 3. Wingbearer by Marjorie M. Liu 4. Manu! by Kelly Fernandez 5. Space Story by Fiona Ostby

Top Chapter Books Series 1. The Babysitters Club by Ann M. Martin 2. Animorphs by KA Applegate 3. Horse Country by Yamile Saied Mendez 4. Unicorn Academy by Julie Sykes 5. Secrets of Droon by Tony Abbott

Additional commentary below the Read More, but I'm not the author of any of these books and I don't owe you a Real Summary.

Top Five Books 1. The Wolf Among the Wild Hunt by Merc Fenn Wolfmoor -I'm not usually into spooky stuff, but I am into platonic ride-or-die friendships between people who are convinced they're monsters 2. Gryphon Ranger: Crossline Plains by Roz Gibson -The past couple years have been a revelation in discovery that actually a lot of people feel that gryphons are the best mythical creature and that Redwall was great but Adult talking animals with swords is even better. It seems it is my fate to become a furry. 3. Flames of Hope by Tui T. Sutherland -I still do love dragons, and this was a very satisfying season finale for Wings of Fire. Tui has done several variations on subverting the Chosen One and it's a unique and interesting take each time. 4. I Hope We Choose Love by Kai Cheng Thom -Everything that is wrong with Internet Queer Culture and how to fix it. Well, sort of. It's a good read for recentering oneself, I think. 5. By the Silver Wind by Jess Owen -Speaking of gryphons, I'm not sure how long it took me to finish this series, but I am slowly working my way through the canon of Gryphon fantasy.

Top Graphic Novels 1. Magical Boy by The Kao -A trans boy finds out that he's inherited his mother's magical girl powers - including her outfit! A loving parody of the magical girl genre that also expresses how frustrating it is for queer and trans folks. 2. Dog Man by Dav Pilkey -Come for the poop jokes, stay for the generational trauma and moral philosophy. Dav Pilkey is a genius and I will die on this hill. 3. Wingbearer by Marjorie M. Liu -No this one isn't about gryphons, they just show up briefly. It's just so pretty... 4. Manu! by Kelly Fernandez -What if a magical school was a girl's Catholic school? And one of the kids may or may not be a demon, but is definitely an adorable chaos queerling? 5. Space Story by Fiona Ostby -three timelines - one of a woman on a space station waiting for her family, one of her wife and child building a ship to join her, and one of how the two of them met. Slow and sweet and hopeful in the face of a bleak future and a really good use of multiple timelines.

Top Chapter Books Series 1. The Babysitters Club by Ann M. Martin -I would have hated these as a tween, but as an adult they're bomb. I'm only like 20 in but they're a masterclass in character development and episodic storytelling. 2. Animorphs by KA Applegate -I never actually finished the series as a kid, and was hoping to do so this year, but that will probably take until January. Anyway it's way more intense than I remember. 3. Horse Country by Yamile Saied Mendez -Just another horse girl series, but this one stars girls of color who are flawed and interesting characters. 4. Unicorn Academy by Julie Sykes -It's trash. Absolute trash. Girls in a boarding school who get paired with a unicorn and need to unlock their magical talent with Power of Friendship while going on somewhat contrived G-rated adventures. Absolute garbage writing and worldbuilding. But it's my kind of trash and I fucking love it. 5. Secrets of Droon by Tony Abbott -Another masterclass in episodic storytelling, and how to balance standalone adventures with longform plot. Early volumes are a bit twee but the stakes get raised as the series goes on. I want to co-author this but with kids of color exploring a fantasyland that is less colonialist.

#fox reads #book roundup