#i am still very grossed out by some of his messages it makes me feel so ill whenever i read stuff from him

[watch-out-it-bites]

he said he would stop bothering us since I apologized then like days after he goes on an alt and bothers, or what happened a week ago or so I HATE HIM HFHBBNNJhhrvrvrhhrrrjjjjjjj

[finniestoncrane]

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter four:

➴ warnings: angst, jealousy, insecurities

➴ word count: 3.9k

➴ author’s note: this is a mess, soph and jack are a mess, quinn’s a sweetheart, grace’s funny af and i’ve reached 100 followers today. can’t even describe how happy i am with the attention IYLM,LMK is getting. i adore u all so much and i hope u stick with me for a while. prepare your seatbelts because shit is about to hit the fan. :,)

SOMETHING changed between you and Jack that day at the Skims set, a week ago.

You finally realized that you are, very much, in love with Jack Hughes. Which was something that you never, in a million years, would’ve guessed. Because, what; you told yourself you’d never get your heart shattered again, yet here you were, walking straight (and worse: willingly) into a trap, falling in love with the man whore of the Devils team.

Despite all of the mean things your mind wanted to tell you, you just forced yourself to remember that not every man is like your cheater ex boyfriend and that not every man would completely crush your heart and tear it apart.

And even though you wouldn't put your hand on the fire and say that he felt the same way as you, if he didn’t, that man was good at pretending. Because no way in hell he’d take all of his fuck buddies to their family lake cabin to throw a Halloween party.

“This is crazy, Jack, you are in the middle of the season, and I’m in the middle of releasing something…” you started, watching as the car took a turn. “Also, how the fuck did you manage to organise a party in, like, thirty minutes?”

“Uh. I’m literally a NHL player. What did you expect?” He scoffed, so full of himself it was almost impossible to stand. You rolled your eyes. “And it’s just a night. I’m not screwing everything up for having fun for one night only, baby, and neither is you.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled, answering some texts messages on your phone.

“I’m always right.” You rolled your eyes again, watching as he drove with ease. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“My fans have been dying for me to dress up as Rapunzel, so I might as well please them.” You shrugged, locking your phone and putting it on your pocket.

“I don’t know about them but I am definitely pleased with the idea.” He smirked.

“You’re just horny, Hughes. Happens to the best of us.”

“Or you’re just pretty. Happens to some of us.”

You laughed, cheeks warm and heart beating fast. “You’re a flirt, Jack Hughes. I missed that. Is it always this crazy during the season?”

“Like you can’t even imagine. My life is just games, working out, eating plain shit and practice for seven months straight.”

“And you love every second of it, don’t you?”

He smiled, white teeth making the view seem a whole lot brighter. “I do, yes. It’s like… the only thing that makes me feel truly alive.”

“Yeah, I know what it feels like,” you whispered. “I feel like that when I’m on the stage too. It’s just… I don’t know. Makes me feel good.”

“I like seeing you on stage,” he nodded and you raised your brow. “What? I do, really. That concert I went to with Nico was fun. Besides, watching you dance with those little dresses of yours is something else.”

“Boo, you’re just an idiot!” You laughed. “But thank you, Jackie bear.”

“Sophia, Jesus, do not call me that,” he whined, but the smile was still on his lips. “Gross.”

“Okay, Jackie bear, whatever you want, honeypot.”

“Sophia!”

— ♡

THE cabin was packed with people, and you were amazed with how fast people arrived, even with the short notice.

You were waiting for Grace to finish getting ready— she would be wearing a Tiana costume, matching your Rapunzel one— so you both could go downstairs and enjoy the party.

“Jack’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you with that little skirt,” Grace said, while applying lip gloss on her plump lips.

“Yeah, about that… I might need to talk to you about something.” You started, crossing your legs.

She stared at you through the mirror, raising her eyebrows. “Go on, Pinky Pie.”

“I thought we’d established that I’m Twilight and you’re my Mordecai?” You giggled, making Grace laugh too.

“I guess we can pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars…” she sighed. “Go on, then, baby. We don’t have all night.”

“So. I may or may have a thing for Jack. Actually, maybe more than just a thing. Think I’m in love, to be honest,” you waited to see her reaction, not expecting her to jump out of the vanity and start twirling around the room, making you laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Are you joking?” She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “I just won two hundred bucks!”

Confusion took over your face. “What do you mean?”

“I told Nico that you’d be in love with Jack by the end of October and he said you’d be in love with him by the end of November, and since you confessed it now— perfect timing, by the way— I get my two hundred bucks!” She started dancing and jumping, like she wasn’t a nepo baby.

“Grace! What the hell, this is serious!” You raised your arms.

She sat back on the bed.

“Girl, no it isn’t. Just go to him and say: hey, buddy, here’s a secret not so secret: I’m in love with you.” She shrugged. “Just don’t sing the Airplanes song, please. That’s, like, our thing.”

“Grace, I— I can’t even— what the hell,” you wanted to run your hands through your hair, but you remembered that you were wearing extensions and a tiara. So you stick with biting your nails instead. “First of all, why the fuck would you and Nico bet on something like this? That doesn’t even make sense. Second, I can’t just go over there, call him and tell him I like him. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, Nico was the one who proposed the idea of betting so that’s on him!” She raised a finger. “And yes, that is literally how it works.”

“You’re forgetting that this is Jack Hughes. A guy who, apparently, can’t stay a week without a pussy and fucked every Jerseywoman who walked on God’s green earth.”

“Ew, don’t say that! You know my mom’s New Jersian…” she sighed, making a disgusted face. You smiled, apologetically. “Okay. I know that Jack’s past may not be the ideal background you want for your baby daddy but hear me out!”

“Baby daddy? What—”

“Jack hasn’t touched anyone else since you guys started… well. Fucking.” She blushes, like she wasn’t calling him your baby daddy not even a minute ago. “And he’s a great, great person. I’ve seen how he looks at you and if that man isn’t in love, then I’m white as a sheet of paper.”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling frustrated. “Harris also seemed like a great guy, and when we got together, everything changed. I don’t want to go through that ever again.”

“I know it hurt, and God knows I’d rather mop the entire ocean than to see you like that again,” she scooched closer, grabbed your hands and pressed her lips together, the REM Beauty lip gloss making her lips look magical. “But you have to give yourself that chance again. It’s been more than a year, and I’ve seen you and Jack together.”

“I know that, but—”

Grace clicked her tongue, a tsc reverberating on the bedroom walls.

“I���m telling you this as someone who isn’t inside that little head of yours,” she whispered, holding your hands tighter. “You and Jack together? Girl, that’s meant to be. That’s like Achilles and Patroclus, Romeo and Juliet, Hazel and Gus—”

“Girl, what the hell, can’t you find a couple who at least one of them is still alive?” You scoffed.

“Sorry, I just love depressing stories…” she apologized before starting talking again. “That’s not the point, anyway, Miss Girl and you know it! Fuck whatever your head is telling you, Soph: you deserve to be loved and you deserve to love.”

“I didn’t say I love h—” she put a hand over your mouth, interrupting you.

“You don’t have to. I know you, Soph, and the look you get on your face whenever you talk to him, or even better, talk about him, is enough for me,” she kissed your cheek, quickly wiping the lip gloss stain on your face. “And let me tell you a secret, honeybun, he has the same look on his face.”

You smiled, cheeks carmesim and heart full. Thanking Grace for saying all of this wasn’t enough, you needed to buy her a house on the beach with a very naked Nico Hischier inside of it. Maybe that’s what you were going to do.

If only you knew how to convince Nico to be naked at a beach house, you’d certainly—

Someone knocked on the door, and you both got up, surprisingly fast, remembering that you were not alone and that there was a whole party happening downstairs.

Opening the door, you faced Jack who looked way too hot with his own jersey. Of course he’d be wearing a Jack Hughes, NHL Player costume. Of fucking course.

“You were taking too long up here so I came to check on you but maybe we’ll be here for a bit longer.” He smirked, hands finding your corset-covered waist instantly.

“Hum—”

“Excuse me, Mr. I-can’t-keep-myself-in-my-pants, I’m still here.” Grace yelled behind you, and you watched as his entire face showed his annoyance.

“Yeah, I can see. Feel free to leave, though,” he rolled his eyes, holding your right hand and twirling you around. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Your entire face felt like a fireplace but you still smiled nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You both are disgusting, excuse me,” Grace walked past the both of you, mumbling something about checking in with her husband.

“Let’s go.” He offered you his hands, which you promptly held.

Going downstairs, you were surprised with how full the house was. Like, there were at least fifty people there, which seemed insane for a cabin, no matter how large it was.

Jack dragged you around, saying “hi” to every person you walked by, true to his NHL playboy persona. To your amusement, some people also acknowledged you. Mostly some girls and a few guys. It was nice.

“Sophia!” You heard a shout and immediately knew who it was. Trevor Zegras, wearing a pirate costume, which was just an excuse for him to be shirtless, really. One of the most annoying people you’ve ever met. Truthfully. “Damn, I’d climb that tower for you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d push you down that shit, Zegras, fuck off.”

Jack laughed softly beside you, moving until you were both sitting on the couch. Quinn, Luke, Nico, Grace and Zegras were all there, talking with a few people you didn't know the name of.

“You can't say you don’t like me without trying me first.” Trevor suggested, looking directly at your face. You showed him your middle finger.

“No one wants to try you, Zegras, now fuck off,” Jack stated before sipping on the beer he stole from Luke, who was dressed as a cooking chef. Or at least that’s what it looked like.

“See, this is why Quinn’s my favorite Hughes,” he mumbled, smiling at Quinn. “Anyway, Soph knows where the heat’s at.” Pointing at himself, Zegras moved on to the girl on his right, who seemed awfully pleased to be his second option.

“Asshole.” You heard Jack mutter under his breath and you giggled, amused.

“Be nice. He’s just… in heat, I guess,” you shrugged, already used to Zegras’ comments. Every time you saw him, he had something new to add to the list. Usually, you’d tell him to fuck off, and he would.

“He’s a pain in my ass, that’s what he is.” Jack bickered, pouting like a ten-year-old child. You found it cute.

“Poor Jackie, huh?”

“Shut up, Soph.” He smiled, blue eyes bright and kind.

Now that you knew what those backflips your heart did every time you saw him smile meant, it was much harder to control them.

Confessing to Jack would break the no-strings-attached arrangement that you both had silently made. It would meant either dating him and having your happily ever after (even if you hardly believed in those) or having your heart broken (again) by a really nice guy who just wanted to fuck you.

Besides that, you were both well-known people, especially you. You remember all too well when you were at home, chilling after a concert, and you got several texts from your friends and family, regarding a bunch of pictures of Harris kissing another girl at a bus stop station. A fucking bus stop station.

The situation dragged on for months, every time you’d post something, people would mention the fact that your ex was a cheater, you had been cheated on and that somehow you deserved to get cheated on; because of the things you sang, because of the clothes you were. Just a shit show with an even shittier audience.

“Hey,” you heard Jack’s voice beside you, and you turned your head around, looking at him. “Where'd you go?”

“Nowhere,” you smiled; it didn’t reach your eyes. Jack seemed to be ready to talk back when a girl— brunette with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen— threw herself at his lap.

“Jackieeee.” She whined, kissing his cheek. “I missed you.”

You could tell she was a little tipsy, but even so, it made your stomach ache anyway. That ugly, shattering feeling of feeling like less than less came back, and it was as if you could feel the narrator of your story preparing himself to repeat the same shit again. Here’s Sophia again, the girl who likes to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrests.

“Hi…” Jack sounded unsure, something he rarely did. You looked at Grace, and she looked right back at you. Only then you realized that basically everyone was staring at you.

“You don’t remember me?” The girl sounded like she was pouting and you cringed. She was so close to you, sitting on his lap, that her left thigh was brushing against your arm. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure to be unforgettable this time, baby.”

“Wow, I think that’s it for me,” you muttered, getting up from the couch, moving to the kitchen without looking back. You knew that you’d throw up if you did; not because of Jack and Mrs. Unforgettable, but because of the pity stares you knew people were giving you. It sucked.

You also knew that if you stayed inside the house for too long, you’d end up drunk and pissed off. And you didn’t want that. So you did the only thing that you knew would put your mind in the right place again: going to the lake.

You walked outside, feeling the cold breeze hit your face and legs and arms and— everywhere, really. You should have worn a sweatshirt, but now it was too late to go back. You’d rather turn into a popsicle than to go back there and watch that again.

Sitting on the dock, you watched the lake in front of you, listening to the sounds of insects and trees moving. It was a nice view, but probably nicer in the summer. Right now it just looked like a Criminal Minds crime scene.

Lost in thoughts, you didn’t hear the steps coming from behind you. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Letting out a scream, you turned around, facing Quinn, who was wearing a pilot costume, with a scowl on your face.

“Sweet Jesus, Quinn, what the hell,” you put your hand on your barely covered chest, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you know how to, I don’t know, make noise while you walk?”

“I did that, actually, you just didn’t hear it,” he sat down beside you, handing you a Canucks sweatshirt. “Thought you’d get cold.”

You smiled, thanking him and putting it on, trying not to ruin your hair and makeup.

“Thank you, Quinn. That’s nice. Go Canucks!” You raised your hand, making a fist bump, hearing his soft chuckle beside you. You sighed. “I don’t know if you’re here to try to make me feel better or anything like that, but you don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m just here because you needed a sweater and because it’s kinda creepy to be here alone. Nothing else, I promise.”

You looked at him, once again surprised with the Hughes men. But then, they were raised by Ellen, so you shouldn’t really be surprised.

You nodded, choosing not to say anything, just feeling the breeze on your face, a million thoughts in your head.

Now what? What would you even say to Jack? Hey, yeah, I know that when we started this we said that we didn’t want to fall in love but guess what! I’m in love with you.

And what would he even say to you? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like you back. He’d probably say something like yeah, you fucked up our arrangement now I’ll have to find someone else to fuck every week. You were fun, though! and move on with his life.

And you’d move on with yours, just like you did before. The thing is, you didn’t want to move on again. You spent five years into your twenties trying to move on from things and it was tiring as hell. Moving on from broken friendships? Tiring. Moving on from toxic people? Tiring. Moving on from your cheater boyfriend? Tiring and humiliating.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn throwing rocks at the lake, laughing when he couldn’t make them float like he intended to. He looked at you with that tired expression of his, and smiled back.

“Great album, by the way,” he blurted out of nowhere.

You frowned. “Thank you, I guess. Did someone leak it?”

“No,” he laughed, shortly. “Jack talked about it in our family group chat a while ago. Ma asked about you and he went on rambling about it, which was really funny. He was like, putting on his uniform before practice and recording a voice note at the same time, which he never does. And then he went full rambling about all of the songs and how shitty your ex was. Sorry about that,”

You looked at Quinn like he had grown two more heads, four more arms and five more legs. You had no idea Jack talked about your songs with his family. At all.

You wanted to ask more about it to Quinn so bad but you were kinda scared about what you were going to hear in response. Does Jack talk about me?

About you? Yeah, and a lot of other girls too.

“Sure,” you mumbled. “Yeah, Harris was a dick,”

“I liked some of his movies but now he’s banned from my watchlist forever.” Quinn announced like the statement didn’t make your heart break and mend at the same time, his tone calm and distant. “It’s good that you found something to channel your pain though. I do that a lot during my games.”

“Singing for me is like breathing. I’ve done it since I was, like, eight or even younger,” you nodded to yourself, looking at the stars above you. “This album means a lot to me, in a lot of ways. So thank you for telling me this.” You smiled, not sure if he could see it. He was also looking at the stars.

“Don’t need to say ‘thank you’. You have a gift, Sophia. I hope you know that,” he stretched himself, yawning and wrapping his arms around his middle. “I wish I could write songs but I suck at that.”

“Why do you sound like you’ve tried that already?” You smirked, fucking with him.

Or at least you thought you were, because Quinn went quiet, which confirmed your suspicions.

“What!” You looked at him, throwing your arms up. “Have you written songs before?”

“I was thirteen, okay? I just thought that maybe if I didn’t make it to the NHL, I could at least be a rapper or something.” He shrugged, again, which only made you start laughing. “I know, it’s funny. Thankfully, I made it to the NHL.”

“I don’t know, it’d be great to make a song with you,” you said, playfully, before realising something. “Oh my God, Quinn. That’s what I need!”

“What?” He smirked. “Make a song with me? I don’t think that’s a great idea—”

“No, not a song with you. Just a song. I need to write,” You nodded to yourself, getting up and fixing your skirt with your hands. “Do you think I could get a cab here? I came with Jack and I think he’s…” you bit your lip. Focus. Write the song; it will all be better. “Busy. And Grace needs to have her fun, too. She’s been working nonstop.”

“A cab? Soph, it’s like midnight,” he got up, too, standing in front of you. “I can take you home. It’s no biggie.”

“What? No! Enjoy the party! I’ll just try to catch an Uber or something.” You went to grab your phone, just to remember that you left it at the cabin. “Ugh, fuck, I need to go inside again.”

“I will take you home, no need for Ubers or anything like that. Just tell me where your things are and I’ll pick them up for you. I’ll talk to Grace on my way there.” He affirmed, walking with you towards the cabin, the loud music slowly filling up your ears again.

“That’s… so nice,” you breathed, more grateful than you’d like to admit. “Thank you, Quinn, seriously. I owe you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “Wait a second here, please.”

You did, and it wasn’t long until he showed up with your backpack, your phone and a very worried Grace beside him.

“Girl, what the hell?” She yelled, probably not even realizing how loud she sounded. “I’ve been looking for you like crazy and out of nowhere Quinn shows up with your stuff, saying he will get you home.”

“I have to write a song.” You reasoned, raising your shoulders.

Grace stared at you for what felt like forever, until she pressed her lips on your forehead and sighed. “Alright. I’m not even going to ask. Be safe, please, and remember that I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you, I love you.” You kissed her back, following Quinn on the way to his car, not bothering to look back.

Jack was probably busy anyway.

— ♡

HANDS around the guitar, you replayed the same melody you’ve been playing for five hours straight now.

You arrived home at one thirty in the morning, and even though you were awfully tired, you had to get the lyrics, the feelings, the emotions out of you. Fuck sleeping.

You offered your guest room for Quinn but he just shook his head, saying that he’d crash at his parents’. You made him call you when he arrived there so you knew he was safe, which he promptly did.

After that, you made yourself tea and sat in your home studio, writing obsessively. It had been a long time since the last time you had a song practically written in your head, and honestly, you couldn’t tell if that was good or not.

What you knew, though, is that now, five hours later, seven a.m. in the morning, you had a song. Bad for Business. You sent it to your producer and Grace before laying on your bed and drifting away immediately, the exhaustion taking over you.

[oddheadd]

Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter III

Skinwalker/Wendigo x reader

CW: Gross things like rotting :P

SMUT!! Rough sex, voyerism, non-consentual at the end(?)

I couldn't sleep last night. The screaming kept me awake.

Screaming? It sounded animalistic, the broken voice desperately wheezing and calling for attention. I laid there helplessly, clutching my pillow and worrying about wether I locked my doors or not. I was too scared to check them, so I just kept staring at the curtains, my heart almost popping out of its place as I tried to look away from them.

I couldn't, and at about 5-6 am, when the screaming had stopped, I dozed off. I later woke up at 4 pm, and weirdly enough, I was inspired to write some more. I put my nightly terror into descriptive paragraphs and created a monster.

One with long, grey, skinny limbs and hair thin enough to see it's pure white eyes... Rotten teeth caging the slithering maggots in its hollow mouth.

I take a deep breath and close my laptop. I grab my phone and see that Nathan had texted me last night.

"Do you drink?"

I can't help but smile and instantly start typing.

"after whatever the hell happened last night, I do."

I put my phone away and make myself a quick meal. My phone buzzes.

"And what happned?"

I chuckle at his misspelling.

"I heard someone or something screaming. I couldn't sleep all night :("

He answers quickly;

"Jackals?"

And I answer just as fast.

"Kind of... It had an artificial echo to it? Don't know how to explain."

I purse my lips and put my phone down. Taking a bite out of the poor excuse of a meal.

"You could demonstrate, when I take you to a bar in the town."

Smile grows on my face as I reread his messages. I should go, what's the worst that can happen? So, we text each other the details and it's a date!

I leave the cabin and decide to look around the village this time. Ain't no way I'm going into the forest after last night.

I try my best to remember the way home as I walk past the other cabins. I admire the architecture - simple, but charming nonetheless. Then I spot a girl, no older than nine looking at me through the window. I smile and give her a wave.

She stays still and keeps staring at me. My hand falls back to my side, and so does my smile. I avoid her gaze and keep walking. I take a few pictures and maybe make a few angels in the snow, before I see an old woman, just barely walking. I approach her. - "Hello, want me to walk you home?"

I get a better look at her face. It's wrinkled, as if her skin is melting off her face. Her eyes are marble like, despite being as dark as coals. I can barely make out her lips that stretch into an uncanny line. Her hair as thin as the monster's that I made up.

She looks at me before her face scrunches up, even more, into a scowl. - "...What are you doing here?" - My mood falters.

"...I used to come here as a child... My mother passed and I decided to visit for a while." - I explain myself. She raises an eyebrow and grabs my arm for support.

"(Your mother)'s kid. You've... Changed, quite a bit."

I tilt my head. - "Do I know you?"

"You'd always steal from my brother's cherry trees. You used to be an annoying, little rascal."

I chuckle awkwardly. - "I get that a lot. So you live down the road?"

"You've become... A very appetizing person." - She says, avoiding my question. I try not to think about her weird wording.

"...Thank you?" - I say after a long pause.

"I used to be like you. Maybe my skin was healthier." - She scoffs, bits of her saliva falling out of her mouth. - "...Not fair... At all." - she sighs.

I stay quiet as she rambles, a little more comfortable now that we've approached her cabin.

"But whatever it wants, it gets." - She says. She tightens her grip. - "Count yourself lucky, being able to serve it like that."

After that I head straight to my cabin. I can't wait to drink with Nathan tonight.

Now as I stand in the snow, my ass literally freezing off, I start to feel disappointed. He promised he'd pick me up, but now I'm getting worried he got lost and mauled.

Tiny snowflakes start falling, adding onto the already layered snow that's coating the ground. I sigh and check my phone again. My frown intensifies, when I see there's no new messages.

I almost fall off the bench on the porch when I see a figure in the corner of my eye.

"Jesus, Nathan. Do you always have to scare me like that?" - I rest my palm on my chest, dramatically so.

He flashes me the Cheshire grin - "Sorry."

I get off the porch and shove my hands into my pocket, a wave of disappointment washing over me when the pockets are just as cold.

"I thought the huge deer got to you." - I tease.

He narrows his eyes. - "I'm at the top of the food chain, you don't have to worry about stuff like that." - He brags and gives me his hand. I take it with a snort, his hands as cold as mine. - "I don't think we can make it to the Bar, it's too far away. And, it's getting dark."

I pout. He chuckles. - "But I know how to make it up to you~" - He says and takes out a flask from his coat.

I raise an eyebrow. - "Charming."

I then walk back to the front door of the cabin and unlock it, going inside. - "Come on in, I'm freezing." - I complain and look at him.

He follows after me with a smile and looks around. - "It's pretty cozy in here."

I chuckle and sit him down onto the couch. - "I think we have some old wine in the attic. Try not to miss me too much."

"Don't worry, I'm patient." - he smiles softly.

I turn on the flashlight on my phone after a hard struggle against the attic door, coughing my lungs out when the dust flies around in the air. I climb up and start looking around the boxes for the wine.

I smile when I finally find it. There's two blood red bottles with no distinct label on them, so I pick them up. My smile falls as I see a... Doll? It's made out of straws, clearly resembling a human body. I pick it up and inspect further. Is this a hex? I put it back down and get up, chills running down my spine when I notice a big red symbol on the wall. I stare at it for a while before turning around and leaving with the bottles in my hands.

I have a guest right now, I'll deal with it later.

On my way, I grab go into the kitchen to get glasses.

"I only have mugs and teacups, no fancy glasses." - I say before grabbing the cups and sitting next to him. He throws his arm around my shoulder.

"I don't look like the fancy type though, do I?" - He chuckles and I shrug.

I pour us some wine and sip from my cup. - "So, why did you move here again?"

"Nature always called out to me." - He shrugs. - "And you, Y/N? What's your job and why did you come here?"

I purce my lips. - "Well, I'm a writer. I've written some stuff but nothing special, really. I wanted to write a horror book and came here to set the mood, ya know?"

"And how's that working out?" - He tilts his head.

I sigh. - "I'm having the worst writer's block I've ever had. Barely wrote a few pages."

"Let's see then." - He says, and I hesitantly agree. I grab my laptop and open the file, handing it to him.

I stand up and approach the fireplace, tending to it as he reads for a while.

"It's great." - He smiles and I look back at him.

"Is it?"

"A little complaint... You're trying too hard to explain all the details. Reading is all about letting people warp characters and places into whatever their mind makes up."

"...That makes a lot of sense, actually." - I sit back next to him. - "Can you help me?"

He eyes me and nods.

I don't know how much time passes, but we're now sitting on the floor and already have finished the second bottle of wine, now taking turns on taking a swing out of Nathan's flask. I've been taking notes, typing away furiously.

As I let out a deep breath, I look up from my laptop screen and the whole room starts spinning. I grunt and put the gadget away, placing my head in Nathan's lap. He chuckles and strokes my hair. - "Are you alright?"

"...A little tired. And dizzy." - I pout. Nathan just keeps smiling and sits me up again, making me look at him by taking my chin in-between his fingers.

I keep looking into his eyes and his smile never falters, only getting closer to my own lips. I instinctively close my eyes and part my lips a little, almost melting into Nathan's arms when they connect with his.

My heated cheeks heat up even more when he lays me down onto the soft, warm carpet and lets out a deep groan.

Then I can't even comprehend what happened, when I look to my side and see both mine and his clothes on the floor. Then I feel his erected cock, rubbing against me and realize I'm not wearing any underwear neither. I look back at him and pull him into a kiss again, moaning in delight. He then pushes it inside of me, spreading the walls to make more room for himself and and starts gently grinding it deeper out of me.

I lose track of time and what's happening again, and this time feel him mercilessly thrusting his hips against my ass, almost steaming air of heat spreading into the whole room while his rough fingers caress all the right spots. I let out moans and whimpers in-between my breaths, while he muffles his in my collarbone.

"Don't stop... Fuck, Nathan..." - I moan out his name and he looks up at me.

He then runs his fingers through my hair pulls my head back, giving me a view of the rest of the room, before he buries his face into my neck and leaves a trail of sloppy kisses.

I get closer to cumming, feeling myself spasm and squeeze around him, before I notice something in the windows. There are people outside my cabin... They're chanting something while drawing a symbol on the windows...

It's the same symbol as the one in my attic. I huff and try to stop Nathan but he can't even see my expression with his head buried into my neck. I shut my eyes and try my best not to cry... And soon enough, pass out.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

03: Look What You Made Me Do

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: the day after, some misogyny:)

a/n: Hello hello!! This time is short one, I think... But is a very important one :) I had a rellay rough weekend because I'm sick and I still had to do some rehearsals (believe me, is not funny having a cold and singing at the same time) I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!!

Masterlist

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Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Something heavy was wrapping my waist. And the duvet is not that heavy.

And it feels warm… So warm… My whole body feels warm.

I groaned, opening my eyes slowly and groaning when the daylight blinded me.

“Fuck…” I groan, feeling an instant headache, probably the hangover from last night.

I looked down at that arm. Those rings… I know those rings. White and blue crystals. And a bracelet.

It can't be.

“What the fuck?!” I scream, turning around and finding him laying next to me. “Get out of my bed!”

“Fuck, Melanie… What the hell…”

Melanie?

I jumped out of bed and immediately noticed I was naked. Just like him.

“No…. No, no, no, no” I mumble, grabbing the first thing I found to cover my body. “Get out of here!”

He groaned, turning around and finally opening his eyes. The shock in his face probably was higher than the hangover, making him fall from the bed to the floor. He was naked. Completely naked. No shirt, no pants. No boxers. Nothing. Bare, completely bare.

“Get out of my fucking room” I said seriously, my blood boiling slowly. 

“You are in my room” he frowned, covering his dick with his hand. “Get out. Where is Melanie?”

“Are you stupid?! This is my room! My things are here, look!”

He frowned, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and looking around. My suitcase was there. My backpack, my makeup bag, my book. 

“Fuck” he whispered.

I clenched my jaw and looked at him. There's no way… There's no way we did it. Why? Why the hell did he come here after what he did last night?

“Get out” I groan. “Did you use a condom at least?”

“I would rather be dead than fuck with you, keep dreaming” he scoffed, grabbing his clothes and getting dressed immediately. “I'm not one of those you can fuck”

“Fucking asshole” I groan. “You know what? You were right! I fucked with Mick! Go on, go tell everyone I did! Oh no, wait. You already did last night”

“See? You don't deserve the seat” he scoffed. “You do exactly what people thought women would do to get in this sport. Fuck your way into a seat. You are a…”

I frown looking at him and then at the shoe that was on the floor next to me. I clenched my jaw and grabbed it, pointing at him with it, threatening him.

“Come on, say it if you dare to. I am a what?” I scoffed. “Get out of here before I call the security of the hotel. Get the fuck out of here before I kill you!”

“You won’t do that” he laughed, collecting his clothes. “You are too soft, you even apologize when you take someone off track. See? You shouldn’t be he-”

The heel of my hand flew to the other side of the bed, hitting him right on the chest. He looked at me with a mix of surprise and anger, rubbing the spot where the heel hit him.

“The next one goes to your eye, you hear me?” I groaned, grabbing the other heel. 

“You are crazy!” he groaned, grabbing all his clothes and running out of the room before I did what I promised.

“You don’t know a shit about me” I groaned right when he slammed the door.

When he closed the door I was still standing in the middle of the room, feeling shivers all over my body, making me run to the bathroom and throw up.

I feel gross, so gross. I barely remember what happened last night, only that he humiliated me in front of all the people that attended the party, then someone dragged me out of the club and brought me to my room. Then hard knocks… And his lips pressed on mine.

Why didn't I stop him? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I let him do whatever he wanted?

“You are better than this” I said, looking at myself through the mirror, pointing at the reflection. “This is just a bump in the way, a small obstacle to avoid. He won’t get on your nerves, you are better than him. Yesterday you showed it. It is time to show him who you are”

I took a deep breath and smiled at the reflection, nodding. I am better than him.

I grabbed clean clothes and headed to the shower, taking a long time to get ready and relax, washing my body over and over again, needing to erase every mark of his fingerprints on my skin, needing to erase every bit of him.

He will regret every word or thing he did to me. Not only what he said yesterday. I’ll make him regret everything he did to me.

Driving out of the hotel was as tedious as I thought it was going to be. Maybe even more.

My family probably left to go home early this morning, so I was now on my own, with sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes, music to entertain me, and a long way to my home.My phone was burning with messages and notifications, but since my manager was the one that took care of my social media, I just ignored it.

Until I received a call. 

Fred.

Fuck.

“Hey, Fred… Everything okay?” I sighed, answering the call.

“Is it possible for you to come to the factory? It's important”

“Eh… Sure, I guess?” I frown.

“Good. It's urgent, so make sure to arrive as soon as possible”

“Alright” I sighed as he ended the call.

Urgent? What can be urgent to not wait some days to let us rest after the race? They normally let us have a free day before doing meetings and interviews.

Now the joy of winning a race is slowly slipping through my fingers, afraid of receiving a warning because I didn't work as a team. 

But why would they give me a warning? I did everything they asked for, I obeyed and listened to my engineer. I was respectful with them and even with the cars around me, trying to make a perfect race without mistakes. 

Before I knew it I was already driving through the Marinello streets, watching their people waving at me and walking towards my car as I approached the entry of the factory.

There was no one there, not as always. And somehow, that surprised me. They knew our cars, they were always waiting for one of us. But the entry was empty.

I parked my car and frowned when Charles' car wasn't there, and somehow that turned on the alarm in my brain.

They are not happy because I won? That's it?

“Hey, Fred” I smile nervously, closing the door of his office behind me. “So… I'm here. What was that important thing you wanted to talk about?”

“I heard that yesterday, during the party, things happened” he said. “That Charles started it”

“Oh… Yeah, that” I sighed, sitting on the chair after he pointed at it with his hand. “It's okay, I want to forget it. He was clearly drunk”

“We are aware of that” he nodded. “You’ll see… We are aware that being a woman in this sport is hard, that the way here wasn't as smooth as a man can have. And we are so proud to have you in the team…”

“But?” I sighed. “There's a but there, right?”

“But…” he nodded, smiling weakly. “Well, I want to know that whatever he said is not true”

“What?” I frowned. Is he really asking that? 

“It's for your own good” he said quickly, raising his hands. “We want the best for the team, and we want to have a good image of our drivers…”

“You want me to tell you that I didn't get my success because I sucked someone's dick” I scoffed. “Right. Well, let me ask you something? You've got this position because you bribed the owner?”

“That's out of context” he frowned.

“No it's not. It's exactly the same” I frowned, standing up. “I succeeded because I never gave up, no matter how many people thought the same as you about me. I gave nothing but blood, sweat and tears for this dream. None of you have an idea of what it is to be a woman in this sport. So please, don't you ever assume I sucked someone's dick to have a seat because it's never and will never be true”

I saw his jaw clenching a few times, looking at me with serious eyes. My breathing was heavy, somehow altered with all the anger I have been feeling for the last hours. 

“I'll make Charles apologize in public” he said. 

“And one last thing” I said, swallowing thickly. “Never make me record things or be in the same room as him to act like friends. What happened last night was enough to test my limits, and he clearly didn't respect them at all. He never did, anyway. Don't make me be friendly with him ever again”

“Sure” he nodded. “He will be punished for his behavior”

“Thank you” I sighed, taking a deep breath and walking out of the office.

What the fuck is wrong with this world?

Going home was a thing I wanted more than anything. I wanted to lay on my couch, watch my favorite series and cuddle my cat.

“Hey Athena” I smiled, looking at the blue eyed Ragdoll that came towards me, purring and rubbing her head against my legs.

I left my suitcase and bags in my room, throwing myself into my bead and groaning. My cat came, purring and rubbing her head against my cheek, laying next to my head.

“Oh, Thena…” I sighed, kissing her little head. “Men are so stupid… We don't need them, right? They think they can be better than us, stronger than us… But a world only dominated by men would end like something similar to the Wall-E movie. Or even in another war. Uhg… Stupid men”

Athena blinked slowly, purring loudly and licking my cheek softly, making me smile and sigh. 

Life is better when you have a cat. Fuck men.

I sigh and sit on the bed, picking up the white and brown cat in my arms, smiling when she climbed up to my shoulder to sit there. I smiled, rubbing her head softly, and walking towards the kitchen.

“Oh, Nina came to feed you, hm?” I smiled softly. “You were a good girl so she gave you wet food, huh?”

I smile, feeling ber head bumping against mine as I talked with her softly.

My home is my safe space. I can be myself, free of hate and the competition. Free of people that want more and more of me. Here I'm only Dafne, nothing else.

“See? Even fictional characters are idiots sometimes” I sighed, looking at the TV and pointing at Sebastian Stan while rubbing Athena's head. “Look at him, he acts nice at the start and then he ends being in the mafia”

Athena looked up at me, purring and somehow killing me with her eyes.

“Right, we love Sebastian Stan” I nodded, chuckling when I heard my cat's soft meow. 

When the movie ended I sighed, grabbing the plate of my lunch and putting it in the dishwasher. 

I should plan things for this week, choosing outfits for the interviews and events, reserve hotel rooms near the events. I have to do so many things…

The ringtone of my phone made me flinch, sighing softly when I saw Fred's name on the screen.

“Hey” I sighed. “L-look, what I said earlier..”

“Charles refuses to apologize” he interrupted me. 

“As I imagined” I scoffed. “And that punishment? He won't race in the next race? Will you fire him?”

“We will put the updates on your car on the next race” he said. “And we'll prioritize you over him”

“What?” I frown. “Are you for real? Only that?”

“There's anything else we can do, Dafne…” he sighed.

“There is! Is not fair, Fred! He questioned my whole career!” I exclaimed, madly. 

“And we will have a heavy talk with him about this” be frowned. “Is the middle of the season, I can't fire him”

“Right” I scoffed. “Well, I guess this is something that needs a lawyer”

“Dafne, don't do anything stupid” he said. 

“Stupid? Stupid is what you call a punishment! He refuses to apologize? No worries! I'm sure a demand will make him change his mind” I scoffed.

“L-look… If you want I can give you a free week… so you can calm down and disconnect-”

“Calm down?! Oh, believe me, Vasseur. I'm really calm right now” I frown. “I thought that we were on a year where the equality was something real, but I guess that's only for the publicity and to have more followers, right?”

“You are taking this too far, Dafne…” he sighed.

“No I'm not” I said. “You talk about women in this sport but none of you respect us! What do I have to do to gain everyone's respect? Put a warning too? Because it seems that winning a race is not enough”

“No” he sighed. “No, I'm sorry, okay? I'll make everything to make sure he understands that what he said is wrong”

“Don't worry. I'll do that my way” I said. “I think it's about damn time for him to know that I'm not one of those girls he can play with”

“Just…” he sighed, taking some deep breaths before talking again. “Don't fight. Not physically, not verbally. Things are already messy”

“Sure” I sighed, ending the call and clenching my jaw.

Athena walked towards me, jumping on top of the table and looking at me with her big blue eyes. Of course she knows something is wrong.

“It's time to show him what he have done, Thena” I said, rubbing her head. “He said I am a bitch? Then I'll be a bitch. A really bad one”

taglist

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[inbarfink]

I mean, the thing is that fiction about aliens is almost always going to be about some sort of Other on some level. Whatever it’s about demonizing or fear-mongering about some sort of Outsider Group or trying to get the audience to sympathize with the Other via the metaphor of a lovable alien. 

And Invader Zim is kind of an interesting spot there because, like, it’s not just ‘Bad Outsider Out to Destroy Our Beloved In-Group’ or ‘Poor Sympathetic Outsider Being Put-Down by the In-Group’. First thing first because Zim is kinda both. He is both the Outsider secretly hiding inside the in-group plotting their destruction - but the narrative and framing also sympathizes with him and supports his view of the in-group (that humans are stupid and gross).

So he can’t really be A Scary Demonized Outsider when he gets so much narrative sympathy and support, but also… he is a murderous little world-conquering bastard and most of his suffering is generally just him gets exactly what he deserves so he can’t be your classic sort of Sympathetic Outsider either. 

And the other thing is that the in-group is not even really involved in Zim’s conflict. Zim’s biggest challenge in conquering the earth is Dib, another Outsider. Often, despite being a human and thus part of the literal in-group, Dib is an even bigger Outsider to humanity than Zim is.

Zim and Dib are both Outsiders, and Zim isn’t just an Outsider as an Alien on Earth - among his own people he is in the same situation as Dib is, an Outsider in his own in-group. (Not that he can ever admit to himself that is the case). So these two Weirdos are fighting to protect/further the goals of two in-groups that will never actually accept them. 

And so often their main weapon against each other and the primary danger and the source of their suffering for themselves is the same thing; the in-group conformity and enforcement of social norms. 

Dib’s main evidence that Zim is an Alien is, most of the time, just the fact that he looks and acts weird. But also he himself is constantly bullied for looking and acting weird.

And Zim’s most constant source of anxiety while undercover on Earth is the fact that he’s going to get caught being Too Weird and then not just fail his mission, but get brutally dissected and experimented on. But his best defense against being exposed is… basically just to point out just how much Dib also Diverges From the Norm.

It’s the story of two Weirdos trying to get the other punished for being weird in some way, while the Normies just kinda look on and laugh at them both. And the actual thing they want, recognition and acceptance from their in-group is the one thing they are doomed to never actually get. 

And honestly, I think that's actually what makes a lot of real-life Outsiders cling to IZ, especially while we’re teens. I think, in a way, the fact that it’s kind of a messy Outsider narrative makes it more relatable to the messy middle-school/high-school experience than something more neatly crafted to be uplifting to the Weird Kids.

I mean, I certainly see the obvious value in fiction that’s actually trying to create a positive narrative for queer teens or autistic kids or maybe just scene kids or any combination of the following. This sort of media is very good, and can be just as important to some folks.

But... also the truth is that when you’re an edgy teen wrecked with self-loathing for Weirdness you don’t even fully understand “There’s nothing wrong with me and all the people making me feel like they are Bad!” can be a hard message to really believe in. Sometimes it’s easier to start from “Maybe I am all the terrible things people say that I am but.. still deserve love and sympathy, I can still be the hero of the story”. 

And because, sadly, the problem of Weirdos attacking each other for being Weirdos using the same rhetoric that’s used to hurt them, just for the sake of approval and recognition from in-groups that are never going to treat either of them as nothing but a joke - is not a phenomenon exclusive to the Silly Alien Invader Nicktoon.

And Dib and Zim’s rivalry is a great basic framework to explore it both in analysis of the canon and in fanworks.

[toast-the-unknowing]

on fanfic plagiarism

Almost five years ago, in January of 2019, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "Word on the Street," had been plagiarized.

I remember that the stolen fic was posted in k-pop fandom, though not what specific band it related to -- I'm not into k-pop, or really into pop music at all.

I remember that the person who messaged me told me that they had found my fic because the plagiarist had a reputation for stealing fic, so when they'd posted a new story, this person had known to do some digging.

I don't remember what the plagiarist's username was. I remember scanning the stolen story, trying both to read every detail and to avoiding taking any of it in, because looking at that right-but-wrong, not-quite-there, uncanny-valley-ness of it made me queasy.

I remember being darkly amused that the plagiarist had cut out the reference to the main character suffering physical abuse at the hands of his father -- I guess it didn't make sense in the context of the new character. It's almost like the story wasn't written for him. It's almost like someone wrote the story about Adam Parrish, instead.

I filed an AO3 complaint, on the grounds that this was a blatant and unarguable violation of their plagiarism policy. Within twenty-four hours, they got back to me, and the story was removed.

It was a weird, uncomfortable, gross feeling, knowing someone had taken words I'd written and passed them off as their own.

But at the same time -- "Word on the Street" was a silly thing I dashed off pretty quickly, during a period of my life when I was doing a lot of writing. It hurt to have it stolen. It was a violation. But…I had other words, that were more important to me. Maybe that was a buffer.

-

Last month, about six weeks ago, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "there's talk going 'round this town," had been plagiarized.

I was, bizarrely, amused.

I was less bizarrely furious. I was understandably, relatably, I would say rationally, furious. But in a way (and as always, when I say in a way, I am calling back to the scholars of overthinkingit.com for whom in a way is meant as the thing I have just said or am about to say is false) -- in a way, I was amused.

The plagiarist clearly did a 'find and replace' on the character names, to replace Adam and Ronan's names with those of k-pop characters. They did a bad job of it, since the name "Ronan" still appears in one paragraph and the name "Parrish" still appears in two paragraphs. The fic is here, in case anyone doesn't believe me, under the name "i do(n't remember)". At first when I complained about the fic on tumblr, I didn't mention the name, or which fic they'd stolen, because I was worried about anyone…I don't know, making a scene. I've stopped caring. AO3 user springguk is bad at find and replace and they should feel bad. About their computer skills, and also about their blatant plagiarism.

springguk also did some more edits to my fic, I have to give them credit for that. I wrote "there's talk going 'round this town" within a relatively short time span, for me. I tend to either finish things within one week, or else take several months. I believe this one took about five or six weeks completely to write -- I was very inspired.

(I was inspired, specifically, by the press coverage of Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves 'discovering' they might be 'accidentally' married. I mention that in my author's notes. springguk doesn't mention what 'inspired' them in their author's notes. I wonder how they talk about it with friends. They do, in their author's notes, include a link to their ko-fi, and a request that people buy them a coffee.)

If I'd taken longer with this fic, I might have made some edits. Even at the time, I knew I was being self-indulgent in letting the scene with my teenage female OC talk at such length with Ronan about what his non-canonical film career had meant to her, a person the audience didn't care about. But I had fun. I liked Fox. I didn't want to cut her, and what the hell, it was fanfic. I decided to self-indulge.

I was darkly amused to find that springguk did cut out the scene with Fox from their plagiarized version. Maybe springguk is a more disciplined editor than I am. Maybe springguk just didn't have a good k-pop character to map Fox onto. Maybe springguk didn't even realize that Fox was an OC. Do you know anything about the fandom you steal fics from, springguk? I can't help but wonder. Have you read The Raven Cycle? Do you care about teenage OCs who steal cars because of fake films that are clearly meant to be stand-ins for The Fast and the Furious franchise?

Maybe springguk just didn't give a fuck, because none of their heart and soul was poured into this fic. I cared too much about Fox. springguk doesn't care about a single word in the fic they published. Why would they? They didn't write it.

I'm being a little mean in naming them so many times. But I'm able to, this time, because although I filed a plagiarism complaint with AO3 six weeks ago, springguk's stolen fic "i do(n't remember)," is still available to read on AO3 to this very day. I don't have to wrack my brains to remember what their username was, or which k-pop band they recast my work with. I can just look at their fic with its 24 comments and 151 kudos. Hell, maybe that fic is even better than mine, if you don't mind that by cutting the sequence with Fox they've sacrificed a fairly substantial development in the romantic relationship, and also if you don't care that at one point the characters names switch from Jeongguk and Taehyung to Ronan and Parrish, because seriously, for fuck's sake, if you're going to steal a fic at least do a goddamn ctrl+f at the end.

I was mad. I was amused. I made a complaint that the AO3, six weeks later, has still not acted on. I mostly moved on.

-

Tonight, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now," had been plagiarized.

I wanted to vomit.

I was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons online with friends tonight; I spent the entire call unable to focus on anything anyone was saying. I had to keep reminding myself that I was on camera and my face wasn't supposed to look like that.

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is the first of a series of, currently, twelve fics. skytoseungmin, the person who stole it to pass it off as their own work, knew this. Their stolen version was published as part one of a series, though they hadn't published any of the sequels. Presumably, they wanted to wait long enough to make it plausible they'd gone and written the follow ups, instead of just finding them.

skytoseungmin likely didn't know that this fic and this series are intensely personal. They didn't know that the apartment that Adam -- Seungmin, in their ill-gotten version -- lives in, that was based in part off of the apartment I lived in for a year in Pico-Robertson with talldecafcappuccino. They didn't know that the 7-Eleven Adam buys coffee at is the same one I used to tease talldecafcappuccino for buying coffee at. They didn't know that the strip club where Adam and Ronan have their humorously ill-timed romantic revelation outside of, that was the strip club I used to use as a landmark when giving people directions for how to navigate the confusing as fuck freeway exit I lived near, which once caused me to accidentally tell my highly Catholic parents "just go past the strip club and you're good!"

skytoseungmin didn't know that the apartment Adam -- sorry, Seungmin, thoroughly, they were better with find and replace than springguk -- lived in, was also based off of my ex's apartment in Palms, where I as the mere visiting girlfriend was never allowed to park in the parking lot. Where I would sometimes have to spend twenty or thirty minutes circling the neighborhood before I could find parking, often a walk of several minutes away. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when Ronan's car get towed from a McDonald's parking lot, that that was a specific McDonald's on Venice Boulevards, the same one my ex's asshole roommate used to just roll his eyes and say that I should park at. skytoseungmin doesn't know that I once wished passionately that I had just parked in that McDonald's parking lot and risked getting towed, on the occasion that a man followed me several unlit blocks from my car. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when I talk about how helping someone park is the truest love language there is in Los Angeles, that that was what I meant. Has skytoseungmin ever had to circle to half an hour to find parking in Los Angeles? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone enough to do that, instead of saying, fuck it, they can come to me or we're breaking up? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone in Los Angeles enough, to do as my ex did, and come running as fast as humanly possibly when their girlfriend called them whispering and crying on the phone, someone's following me, please, I'm scared, I wish I just parked at the McDonald's?

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is a very personal fic.

It isn't half as personal as some of the fics that come after.

skytoseungmin marked their plagiarized version of the fic as part one of a series. Were they planning on stealing part two, where I, through an alternate universe characterization of Ronan Lynch, dig into my experience of grief and trauma surrounding my grandmother's dementia? Were they planning on stealing any of the explicit fics, where I play with kink and desire in ways I haven't even exposed to my actual sexual partners, but where I felt able to through the guise of fandom? What else was skytoseungmin planning on stealing, with charming little author's notes apologizing for how they missed the fandom-relevant date they were shooting for, because they were so busy with exams, tee-hee! Why the excuses, skytoseungmin? how long does it take you to ctrl+f, even if you are more thorough about it than springguk?

If I seem too accusatory and mean-spirited toward skytoseungmin, well, the LA verse is a very personal fic.

And it's also, it turns out, only one of eight different fics that they stole from me.

I didn't even notice at first, to be honest. I was too stunned. But my friend Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went to my defense and clicked through to the author's page, while I was still reeling at the horrible possibilities of part one of a series. It turned out, of eight fics on skytoseungmin's author's page…I had written every single one of them.

Some were short and pretty lighthearted, things I hadn't had to invest too much of myself into -- like I said, sometimes, I can write a fic in under a week.

Other things…

They stole the space western AU.

I don't think I can articulate to any human being how much that hurt me, to look at it, to see.

I wrote that as a thank you gift for someone who donated to Fandom Trumps Hate.

I spent nearly two years of my life on it -- two years during which, because of mental health issues and life situation changes, my words per year dropped precipitously. I still haven't recovered. I still think of what a failure I am for not writing more, currently, actively, and I remember how the space western AU was both a symptom of that and a defiance of it: yes, writing has become fucking hard, fucking NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE, but I'm still doing it, goddamn it, you can't stop me, even if all I produce is the tiniest trickle of words a month. it can still add up, somehow, if we just keep TRYING.

To see the space western AU, casually nestled amongst a half dozen other fics that were all apparently casually dashed off in the same month…I know it was theft, I know it was a lie, but it still felt like a slap in the face, why can't you write this fast?

Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went on a campaign of commenting on all of skytoseungmin's (my) fics, and I am so thankful. The k-pop fans who heard Jessie have been reaching out, to her, to me, to each other on Twitter, and I am so thankful for them too. skytoseungmin has deleted all of their (my) fics on AO3, and their entire AO3 account, and their entire twitter, apparently. Maybe they were hoping to get enough clicks to parlay them into some kind of book deal, and they'd now rather give up what was a low investment effort on their part than be associated with accusation of plagiarism.

I suppose they can always start over with a new user name and someone else's fics if they really want to.

I suppose they can always start over with a new username and my fics, if they really want to.

And after all, AO3 has still not reached out to me about springguk, and "i do(n't remember)" is still sitting there. Maybe springguk is also going for a book deal. Who knows?

Why complain about any of it?

In a way* (and remember what "in a way" means), isn't it a compliment, if someone loves the words I wrote, even if they don't know it was me that wrote them? toast-the-unknowing and shinealightonme, if they're the same name (and they are), then why not springguk or skytoseungmin, too?

Am I making too big of a deal out of this? Does everyone just have their work stolen from them, all of the time? Is that simply the cost of doing business in an era and an ecosystem where we all can copy and paste twenty-four thousand words with greater ease than our ancestors could transcribe a single phrase? Are more prolific, more famous, more successful fan authors looking at my piteous cries and thinking, bitch, you've only been ripped off by k-pop fans ten times, come back when you have real problems?

And yet in a month, a year, a whole life phase of not being able to write as much as I would like to, because of my health, because of my work, to have someone else just casually pass off the words I have managed to eke out, as though they have no value, as though it were no more than photo copying a shitty flier to stick under a windshield wiper…

I can't imagine springguk or skytoseungmin give a shit how I feel about any of this. At best, they roll their eyes; at worst they laugh to know they hurt me -- and what's the difference between the two? I'll never know either way.

I know that some of the people they duped do care, and are also upset. That helps. And also, it doesn't help.

I just fucking hate all of this, and if all I have are words, and if my words are valuable enough for someone to steal, then here, here are enough of them to choke on. I know I did.

[andy-wm]

3D by JK (feat. JH) - my take.

Ok, unpopular opinion maybe, and I might get my ass beaten for this (not in a good way 🤣)

Feel free to disagree RESPECTFULLY.

Disclaimer: If anyone comes at me with that cancel bullshit I will block you, because we all get to have an opinion.

If my post enrages you, scroll past until you can be civil, then come back and talk. Or block me. I dont mind.

And don't tell me that because I don't love this song I have to hand in my ARMY card... I'm not going to.

🙂💜🙂

I'll start by saying I love JK so, so much. Adore him. Will always support him.

But for me, 3D is a misstep.

My feeling is Hybe should have reconsidered releasing it as it is.

JK's lyrics are fun and sexy. The innuendo is on point. The melody is great and the chorus has excellent sing-along value. Even though I'm not a huge pop music fan, I like the vibe.

The MV dancers are awesome, and I got a kick out of the fire hydrant metaphor.

And in that jacket with nothing under it, JK looks hot enough to melt asphalt.

However....

Including Jack Harlow's rap IMO is a mistake. It sucks, frankly. Not in a good way.

It not only misses the mark on the tone of the rest of the song but his lyrics are really just offensive. Misogynistic. And racial refrences are just... not cricket. It's 2023 not 1995, regardless of what his hairstyle tells you.

His lyrics sound like an incel bragging about their sex life when all they've ever done is watch porn. From his words, I doubt he knows how to please any person but himself.

His message is gross, but its still just... generic. Like he went to urban dictionary for spicy language and then googled how to treat women like shit. There's nothing original about what he's saying. He's not even being gross in an intersting way. It's gross AND boring.

(Jack, if you're reading this, sorry my guy you gotta do better.)

I've been army since 2018 and this is the first BTS song I have tried to find merit in and given up.

I honestly tried to be into it and i just... can't. It doesn't sit well with me.

This is a new experience for me because even when BTS release something i don't immediately love, i still stream and watch and let it sink in, or I work on figuring out what I am missing and why it's ACTUALLY good even if i can't grasp it.

This... it's just... not good, in my opinion.

I have to clarify here...

It isn't about explicit content, i am totally down for that. If anyone read my post on Seven, they will know my response to that song. In a nutshell, I believe all adults who want to, should happily and shamelessly be doing ALL the horizontal tango. Every type, every day, in every way. With anyone and everyone they fancy as long as all parties are informed and consenting adults who are equally enjoying the experience.

Yes. I am all about getting down.

That doesn't mean treating your partners like a body count or using and abusing them with no consideration. That's not cool.

**PSA: please be safe and use protection. Get tested regularly if you have multiple partners. Don't do anything you don't feel good about and dont stay with partners who harm or manipulate you 💜**

Now, back to the smut.

Some criticisms i saw of Seven were about how dirty it was. A few people were upset because JK said fuck, and because he sang about how and when he liked to fuck. But more criticism was levelled at Letto. Why?

It seemed like it was because she's a woman, singing about sex.

Letto totally owns her sexuality and she knows what she wants. I snorted with delight at how deliciously filthy her lyrics were. Some very clever wordplay made her verse so visceral, and pretty shocking to the pearl-clutchers, without her ever saying anything directly. I really enjoyed it.

She was telling us straight up how good she is in bed. Good for her. She totally rocks. And she wasn't disrespecting anyone. She didn't need to do that to make herself cool AF.

The difference between Letto's rap and jack harlow's is that jack sounds like he's just looking at the women he's singing about as a hole to stick his dick in. Women have fought for long enough for equality and respect. They don't need this bullshit. You can sing about getting down, and you can be absolutely filthy and nasty and wild, and you can do it without degrading your partners.

I did read a theory about this song being social commentary on toxic masculinity. You can find it here and you can read it below:

Its not bad as a theory. At least it wouldn't be if Namjoon or Yoongi or Hobi - or Jungkook himself - had written the song. If that were the situation we'd see some inkling of self awareness in the rap, and maybe a hint of character development. But there's none.

Sorry ARMY, this is not the class of lyricism we have come to expect.

If jack is trying to make a social statement^*, or play a character, he is not succeeding in showing any growth or humanity at all. He's really just that stereotype.

In the last few lines, after he offers to fly his victim from Korea to Kentucky, he says "and you ain’t gotta guarantee me nothing I just wanna see if I get lucky."

How considerate...

All I see is zero care factor about the actual person he's trying to get with. Which is quite different from JK's lyrics, which show awareness that he's interacting with a conscious, living human being, not a piece of furniture.

jack follows with "I just wanna meet you in the physical and see if you would touch me"

Ugh. Not with a ten foot pole, douchebag.

And how about, in his first verse "All my ABGs get cute for me"

Good god, really? Is he seriously saying this?

So its a no for me.

The ONLY saving grace is that there's an alternative version which is pretty fun. It's almost as if Hybe knew we would hate the version with jack harlow. Wow, such insight!

Now, i know that's not the only reason they made an alternative. They needed a clean version for US radio play (let's be real, what possible other purpose can this song serve? *°)

But they could have censored jack's... actually they couldn't. The rap verses can't be salvaged. They genuinely have no merit, the only hope for the song is totally removing them.

What does that tell you?

ARMY will no doubt still chart the main track but personally, I would feel morally compromised if i supported that version. So I'll stick to the alternative and hope for better things to come.

------------

^* Stylecaster doesnt think so either. I visited their website to check thr lyrics. They said, of D3, "Meanwhile, Jack Harlow brings the cool with his two verses as he raps about all the women he could pull"

Uh, really? I hope that's intended to be ironic.

*° The MV had only 4.5million views after 12 hours. And we know what brilliant strategists Hybe employs. I am travelling in Korea right now. There was no promo visible here. And it was no accident that it was released at lunchtime on Chuseok - the biggest famiily holiday of the year - when relatively few people in Korea would be available to engage with it. THEY KNEW IT WAS A STINKER.

[antihbki]

Hi. I am here to discuss the tumblr users @/kotocest, known mainly in the radqueer community as Ciel, and his girlfriend @/radikyuu, who is known mainly as Kyuumi or Opphie.

Potentially triggering content ahead. Please read forward with caution.

I met Ciel and Kyuumi in September of 2023. I met Kyuumi first in a syscord/system discord server (which I will not be naming for the safety and privacy of the staff and server members), and was later introduced to Ciel.

From the start, it was obvious things were a little off. Kyuumi would often vent in the previously mentioned server about feeling gross or horrible about doing things or behaving a certain way and included that she doesn't think she could change because "he" wouldn't like her anymore. A little down the line, I found out that "he" was referring to Ciel.

Her vents weren't the only concerning aspect, though. It was clear how unstable she was when Ciel wasn't around or when someone said something about him that ticked him off. Anytime someone pointed out his toxic behavior towards her, Kyuumi would get super upset and would eventually spiral and break down because of it. Ciel would use this to his advantage and claim that she experienced such strong feelings regarding him because she was a "part of him" or because she was a "clone" of him, which would only serve as a way for Ciel to strengthen the leash he already had on Kyuumi. These are still things Kyuumi still seemingly believes, which only leads me to assume that he is still pushing this belief onto her.

There would be numerous occasions of Kyuumi coming to panic to me in DMs about these things, too. One time was especially alarming, and I am only comfortable talking about this because she herself has publicly admitted to this situation taking place. Kyuumi messaged me around 2 in the morning, telling me that she thought she was going to die. Her messages were vague and barely readable, but from what I could understand, she had injured herself in some way and was losing a lot of blood. I told her to call an ambulance, to which she responded that she couldn't. After asking why, I was blocked. After hours of staying awake, waiting for her to tell me that she was okay, I received a message from Ciel at around 10 pm. He informed me that Kyuumi was in the hospital but claimed he didn't know what happened. I asked why she blocked me, but he told me he didn't know. The next day, he admitted to encouraging her to harm herself, saying that he never intended for her to be harmed so bad, but said he didn't know why she said she couldn't call an ambulance.

Fast forward to Kyuumi coming out of the hospital, I approached her about the topic and told her what I knew, and this was when she told me about Ciel threatening her into not calling an ambulance. According to Kyuumi, the two of them were in a vc when he encouraged her to do it. Here is a screenshot of what she said to me.

|| start ||

|| end ||

While I am going to try to be neutral for most of this post, I fully believe that he was trying to kill her. This is not the only time something like this has happened.

As you can see in that last message, Kyuumi had told me before about the fact that she had sent pictures to him. She came to me after she sent them to him and told me about what she did, and said it made her feel disgusting and horrible about her body. When I tried to comfort her, she broke down and told me the things he said about her after he saw the pictures of her. She also told me about some transphobic behavior he was displaying. Here is a screenshot of her explaining that to me.

|| start ||

|| end ||

I point this part out because Kyuumi is a trans girl. She mentions in the screenshot that she asked him to avoid making comments about that specific part of her, and he disrespected that boundary and made those comments anyway. After this, she was left feeling very dysphoric and did not speak to me much.

This part is especially upsetting because Kyuumi was closeted about being a trans woman at the time. She was going by he/him pronouns and was almost exclusively using masculine terms and publicly claimed to be a trans man, but Ciel and I (as well as one other mutual friend) were aware of Kyuumi's identity. Despite Kyuumi trusting Ciel with such an important part of her identity, he went out of his way to upset her and make her uncomfortable.

She forgave him for this situation very quickly, but this behavior from Ciel continued and went unaddressed.

I witnessed Ciel manipulate her on many different occasions, and he was comfortable doing it with me present. Oftentimes, when they would argue, he would briefly mention the argument to their mutual friends, but he would always paint her out to be the one in the wrong. This led to many of our mutual friends hating Kyuumi for a while, and we even had a group chat made for the purpose of discussing what we thought was Kyuumi being an abuser. After a while, and after multiple friends cut Kyuumi off due to her supposed abusive behavior, Ciel confirmed himself on a call with me that he had been portraying her like that with the goal of isolating her. I tried to speak up and tell him how wrong that is, but I was threatened with never hearing from either of them again.

I didn't believe that he would make her stop talking to me, but I didn't take any chances and instead spoke to a friend who went on to confront him. After xe confronted Ciel, xe was blocked by both of them and removed from all of their group chats and servers. As far as I can tell, this is still something he has her do (cutting off people who call him out or who he doesn't like).

Ciel's emotional and physical mistreatment and abuse of Kyuumi is something that I have kept my mouth shut about due to the fear of being cut out of Kyuumi's life, but that ended up happening about a month ago anyways. I no longer have contact with her or Ciel, but given some of the things I have heard about their relationship, this abuse is still going on, and Kyuumi has begun to claim it is consensual.

I am not expecting this to be spread or have much attention paid to it, but I made this because I am tired of being quiet.

Thank you for your time.

[louisisalarrie]

okieeeeee dokie. I have gotten several messages about the F jerseys and whether or not louis is giving up larry and whether or not we should just step back because he’s still pushing the narrative and just people being sad in general about all this thinking he doesn’t care about us.

SO instead of replying to you all individually, this is the last im gonna comment on this bullshit unless something massive happens. I hope I can comfort y’all and just overall make this feeling of doubt and grossness and turn it into the fight that we’ve been fighting for 14 years and remind you all to stay strong.

Multiple anons, and anyone else interested, welcome to the show.

So, to start this off, im gonna provide you all with some links, to remind you of just how orchestrated bbg and all of this is. This will preface this conversation with a much stronger tone because well… you have to remember how fucked up this stunt is and how poorly it was conceived (pardon the pun).

Links here, here, here, and here

Okay. So. BBG is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard (reference fully intended). This shit was so poorly done, with so many mistakes, and so many things that didn’t add up. All on top of a young dude who’s meant to be marketable to the masses as attainable, to provide more sales etc., and not a bad boy that fucks multiple women and gets one of them pregnant. That’s just… not good PR, first of all, and also negatively affects not only him, but the band as well, regardless of them going on break. Why not just have Louis single and attainable? Market him as a bit more charming and sexy and maybe doing the Harry thing, to ensure more promo?

Well, because Louis was the punching bag for SC and friends and they didn’t want him to take the limelight off Harry for a solo career, and needed to be as far away as possible from each other to ensure Harry’s coming out. ANYWAY you’ve heard me talk about this shit before yada yada yada. So, im gonna chat about what’s happening now instead.

For the last little while, Larries have been given small sips of water while being stranded in the desert, is kinda the best way I can describe it. We’re only getting content from Louis, also, which is something to remember. We’re not getting double the content from Harry so it’s been fairly quiet. Anyway. We’ve gotten green and blue lights, coded clothing, 7, gazing and pointing at the ceiling/boxes, all that stuff, but really, it’s no proof. It’s little tidbits in the grand scheme of things, and unfortunately in this grand scheme of things, exists bbg.

Louis has been single for a long while now, and his dating life doesn’t get traction in the press. Neither will these jerseys or really much else he does. Unless he were to be tied to a major artist/actress who’s super famous, he’s not gonna get any further press outside of the realm he is currently in, unfortunately. And I think perhaps that is something he tends to reference when he’s on stage. The whole “we did this together, we need each other, we didn’t need anyone else’s help, im so lucky that you accept me as I am” etc, because he’s not been stunting to up his market value. He’s just… doing well with the fans. It’s lucky he has such a dedicated fanbase. Artists don’t have this all the time.

Now, idk why tf LATAM has brought on so much F content with these jerseys, and I don’t know who in their right mind is actually spending money on this shit to gift to Louis (particularly in an economic cost of living crisis), but it’s truly bizarre. If I believed in bbg, I wouldn’t be giving him gifts for his kid, and I could’ve done it quite easily backstage by getting someone to leave it in his dressing room or whatever. But it’s weirddddd and a waste of moneyyyyy and doesn’t make him love you any more than other fans. Is it like a weird anti power play or something? Idk. But what I do know, is that these jerseys have had a very clear narrative.

Idk if something is coming or Harry is gonna come out or whatever, but Louis is doing his pretty little barely smile and wave and glancing at these jerseys before popping them on the stage. He doesn’t seem to look particularly over the moon with them, does he? He’s just like “oh okay thanks” and slaps the hell out of his chest and goes back to doing whatever he was doing. If he loved getting gifts from fans for F all over the world (and didn’t think it was weird nor was it a setup), I imagine maaaaaybe he’d show it off to the crowd a bit more? Maybe a “this is great, thank you! Everyone look at this sick jersey for my little lad! He’s gonna love that” because Louis is SO proud of that kid and loves that kid SO much and I just feel like he’d be more excited about it.

If bbg was real and he found it weird, he’d still probably smile a little more and be a little more into it than what he seems to be. This second time round was a bit more of a grimace and I just don’t see him being stoked about it. But let’s talk about that… why has there been two fucking jerseys for “his” kid given to him in very close succession? wtf is going on?

well, one of those times, apparently the Louis jersey was gifted to him backstage, but they saved the F jersey to give it to him on stage. Personally, idk, if I was a fan and brought these jerseys and got to go backstage (?????) to gift him them, I would probably give them at the same time. Because that makes sense. Because otherwise you need to carry it around and also try and get his attention from the crowd and it just seems surely like more of a fuck around. It’s weird, weird, and weird, and feels like way more of a set up than usual.

Because, it’s just a little reminder for everyone about bbg, and that it exists. It’s a good little thing to just upkeep that narrative without having to DO anything. It’s easy. But also interesting timing, and why now?

Harry’s coming back on the radar slowly, after a BUA, and so perhaps there could be a coming out in the near future that would encourage Louis to continue to look hettie af. Perhaps it’s to distract from any larry stuff that may happen or has happened around this time. Maybe it’s a good little way to upkeep the narrative if Louis and Harry start forming a friendship or liking each other’s photo online or SOMETHING. it can be for so many reasons. But, the main one isn’t to get rid of us. I promise you that.

Louis’ fandom, while it slowly continues to develop and grow, is majority larries. It’s just a matter of fact that more Larries flocked to Louis when Harry started getting a fucking crazy fanbase and started doing a million stunts. Louis felt safer, and continues to feel safer. Don’t get me wrong, still a huge amount of harries are larries, but as it stands, Louis has a very strong amount of us on his side. And he’s not an idiot, he knows that. He knows his demographic, he would be updated about that by PR, and they would analyse it too and see what needs to be damage control, what the age ranges are, what the social media content is between the fans, and how they view louis. All very basic stuff, and so he’d know. Hence the “so be it” comment. He knows that without us, there was a larger potential he could’ve flipped and would be playing theatres as opposed to arenas. He could’ve pushed us waaaaay further away than what he has with his weird little denials and F comments, he could have that kid at more shows and be flaunting him on Instagram, and could be actively trying to really squash it. But he doesn’t (some people say it’s because being linked to Harry gives him promo but that’s another conversation for another time so don’t bring that up please haha).

He states, very loudly and clearly, that he appreciates and loves every single one of us. He doesn’t make snide comments, he doesn’t say this kind of dismissively, he makes a point to say he loves all of us no matter what. He pointedly said that he thanks us for accepting him. And quite frankly, if I was in his position, I’d probably find a better way of saying that if I wanted to dispel the rumours.

These little jersey setups (which I believe one person has started and others have followed giving a great little way to remind us of bbg from louis’ team and UAs), are awfully staged and just cause fights within the fandom. It’s not ideal, but hell, it beats seeing him with that kid everywhere. And these days are very interesting with how fans get their information. Years ago, while we had groupies and insiders, update accounts weren’t manipulated the way they are now. We had blind items, sure, but anyone could write into that. We had receipts, and while many were real, many also weren’t. But now… with how big fanbases are online, the best way to communicate narratives are fan to fan, as opposed to media to fan. It seems more genuine. It seems less fake like media items are. It looks real.

So with these jersey incidences and UAs blabbering on and posting pictures of jerseys before the show and saying how much Louis loved them and all that, it’s manipulated as more real than what it is. You can’t write an article about everything, but you can tip off UAs or Deuxmoi with a fake name to get them to post shit for the fandom exclusively to see. It’s simple, but very effective. And it’s just… pure marketing, and encourages artist to fan interaction (which should be supported online but the boys can lack that these days which is shit on their behalf), and helps dispel the rumours within the fandom.

Wow okay. This turned into an essay and im not actually gonna reread it because I don’t have time but if you’ve gotten this far in my rambling, kudos to you. My main points are:

- no matter how many jerseys louis gets for F, he’s still not a dad

- those jerseys will not magically make him a dad

- these stunt narratives are sooooo see through and boring these days I just roll my eyes at it but thank god it’s a lot more lowkey to what it could be

- Louis loves us and wants us here bc we pay his bills and also accept him and support him and we’re on whatever journey he wants to take together

- these little ongoing narrative pushes can be the preface to a coming out on Harry’s side/reconciliation between the boys

- keep an eye on body language throughout these interactions

- giving gifts to ur fave relating to their kid no matter what you believe is creepy and weird and a lot of us seem to be in agreement on that

- this shit isn’t louis’ fault

- don’t believe everything you read on Twitter

- they missed the boat on ending this stunt years ago and ending it now is gonna be very fucking hard

- it’s easily arguable that even if Larry wasn’t real, Louis’ still not a dad

thanks team!

[lemotmo]

First time I've seen them be, deservedly and understandably, short with someone. The ask was vile but I love the answer so enjoy! You will have no trouble figuring out what the ask was.

A. Anon, I debated long and hard about answering your ask because, to be frank, it's rude as hell. But I decided to answer it because there are a couple of points I would like to make and you gave me an opening. I will be more polite to you than your ask was to me, but this is my third draft of this response and it's still not as polite as I strive to be to people, but it's clearly as polite as I can be on this one. Enjoy.

It's not possible to 'turn on Tommy'. He is a plot device. His character is whatever the plot needs him to be. I said from day one I liked the intended purpose of Tommy as far as present Buck is concerned. I get what the show is doing with him and I like it, right now, for Buck. I never pretended it was more than that. You are correct, my blog has lots of pro Eddie/Buddie posts. I've watched from the beginning. If you actually watch the show it is hard to not like him/them. You're also correct in that I view Buck/Eddie/Christopher as a family unit. That's the way they're written. We're supposed to see them that way, again watch the show for context. I love Eddie. He deserves better than the neverending Shannon go round. Ryan's recent interviews seem to imply he would also like to get off that particular ride. That doesn't make me or anyone else a Tommy traitor, because again, can't betray a plot device.

As for the Lou part of your ask, I have made no secret of my personal issues with him. I don't feel the need to reference it in every single answer I give, but they're easy to find on my blog. Screaming at me that we have no proof he's supported trump since 2016 is not the character win you seem to think it is. He was just as misogynistic, homophobic and racist then. So not a point in Lou's favor. I also have issues with the Cameo videos. It's gross to charge fans to talk to you. Did he have every right to capitalize on his fandom moment, sure, but I can still think it's icky. I can also acknowledge the nightmare it has caused for Oliver and Tim, and even more disgustingly so, Ryan. Most of us figured out it was the same 8 or 9 blogs purchasing the videos (no surprise who those blogs were) which I'm also sure Lou eventually figured out. He wasn't talking to a wide audience. The view count told you that. Which is why I stress that people have to stop pretending that Buck and Tommy are some wide spread loved couple. Reality doesn't support that. Shouting into a vacuum of like minded people is not the same thing as being an audience favorite and most of the people shouting know this. The videos served no purpose except financial. Which again, he had every right to do, but i have the right to be grossed out by it. I try very hard to be respectful of everyone's opinions. I am an adult. I don't need everyone to agree with my every thought. I expect the same basic level of politeness in my ask box. Your misunderstanding or deliberate ignorance of what is very clearly displayed on my blog is not my responsibility. I understand what I think the show is trying to do with the character of Tommy. I get it, and I don't hate it. I like the idea. Voicing that was never stating I'm anti Eddie or Buddie. And understanding and voicing where I think the show is going doesn't make me a Tommy traitor. Because once more, he's a plot device.

Louder for the people in back!

Oh wow. What a truth bomb. Slay! OP your ability to stay calm and collected when obviously answering a very rude and disrespectful ask is remarkable and commendable. I always strive to do the same on my blog, but even I sometimes lose my patience when it comes to the more 'rude' messages in my inbox.

What can I say about this? It's the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. Enough said.

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[nightshadehoney]

I never watched James Somerton's shitty Killing Stalking video because I was trying to be good to myself and avoid something that I knew would make me very angry. In fact, I never watched any of his stuff because the fact that he made a video like that was enough to discount any thing he ever had to say (also I heard about the Celluloid Closet plagiarism).

But man, is the James Somerton discourse bringing a lot of Killing Stalking-related feelings back up for me. Because I'm mad; I'm still so mad. There are a suprising amount of people on social media who are saying they never watched any of his stuff except for the Killing Stalking video. I'm annoyed not just to find out that the vid had that sort of reach and influence, but also because Somerton's unmasking hasn't seemed to make people reasses the validity of the kind of thing he was saying. People are just now being like "hmm I think this guy might have Issues With Women" but that doesn't warrant any reflection on what exactly the motivation is of people who complain about women enjoying a niche webcomic? Because I don't actually believe you're concerned about the influence of some obscure piece of media when you advertise its existence to your large audience many of whom had not heard of it and would never have heard of it but for your transparent outrage porn video. It's rage bait and the target was women that are perceived as straight. A big channel has publicized the fact that they excised a section that endorsed the opinions in this video from their own because they became aware of Somerton's plagiarism and dishonesty (presumably; if it was actually because they recognized his views were coming from a sexist place I would welcome a clarification). And you know, I don't think that's a good look actually. That you needed to be told he was a bad person and couldn't idependently put together that the misogynist man was saying misogynist things.

The comic ended years ago and the fandom has gone mostly quiet, but to this day people are still the peddling the"fujoshi/stupid teenage girls who don't know what's good for them are shipping these characters because they are too braindead to realize it's not a romance; it's a horror, two things I believe are mutually exclusive. I am smarter than all of these cringe degenerates" bullshit. It's in the comments of the hbomberguy video even; one comment was such a gross misrepresentation of the series that my friend needed to talk me down from getting into a pointless youtube comments argument (bless him) because these people are officially making me lose my marbles.

This narrative is full of shit, it's demonstrably not fucking true. You can go on the artist's twitter right now and its full of her retweeting shippy fanart of that pairing readers were apparently never intended to ship.

(I don't think Koogi knows or cares about James Somerton; she just reblogs the works of fans who tag her. This made me laugh though).

Now this is all speculation because he died decades before social media existed, but I think if Nabokov was alive today his twitter would not be full of Humbert Humbert x Dolores Haze fanart. And yet, I have unironically seen people compare shipping Sangwoo and Bum in Killing Stalking with the misreading of Lolita as a precocious sexual temptress more than once.

And this isn't me saying that Killing Stalking is the disgusting"pro-sexualized abuse" comic that tumblr purity police used to characterize it as either. One of these days I'm going to go truly bonkers and end up banging pots and pans on the street corner, yelling at random innocent passerbys about how stories about romantic and sexual relationships are not required to be Hallmark movies. You can make art about the negative, dark, and troubling parts of these feelings and relationships without creating a pat morality tale. You don't need to approach media analysis like your 7th grade teacher has assigned you an essay on explaining what a novel's "message" is.

Nobody, not the author and not the fans, genuinely thinks that Sangwoo and Bum have a healthy or aspirational relationship. This hypothetical person that does not understand the relationship is toxic doesn't exist. Because girls and women, even the ones having cringey fandom fun on tiktok or whatever, are not so stupid and naive that they are unware that breaking someone's legs and locking them in a muder basement is bad. The type of concern troll rhetoric Somerton employed in his video is directed near exclusively at women interested in men and there's a reason for this. Women are not responsible for abuse that men do to them; nobody is responsible for their partner abusing them. If I never saw people spit this bullshit again it would be too soon.

[fitgirlfemdom]

hi! I’m just curious about something you mentioned about not being explicitly into everything you post - do you think it’s attracted unwanted attention? would you rather discuss non-kink topics on here as well? I think it would be cool if you incorporated some of the other stuff you’re passionate about (anime, music, etc) 🖤

The real me is not as sexual as this account displays. I've been celibate for half a year and I masturbate maybe once or twice a week for like 20 min. I still write and draw NSFW content, but that's for my main art account that isn't linked here (this isn't for privacy or anything--i just have art moots that probably don't wanna see fat bears eating cake on their timeline 24/7).

90% of the stuff I write/have posted about, I'm into, and I enjoyed writing, especially my longer posts! If I wasn't interested in something, I wouldn't write about it for free. The issue was messages in my DMs, especially near the beginning of this account. It's why I tried enforcing the rule that if you send me face pics, I'd block you, because a lot of the people that messaged me I did not find sexually attractive. Without a face, it's much easier to RP. Also because of the dick pics. Don't get me wrong, some of you guys had very respectable cocks but I can't deny that it made me feel gross to be sent them without my consent.

The worst part was actually enjoying talking to some of you, and then realizing you clearly just used me as a dumping ground for your fetish pics, without any consideration as to who I was. It was like my DMs were just "Send Photos of Your Gut to 19 Year Old Girl Here" without any personality, any interest in who I was. Just a nameless girl who you could imagine your fantasies with. I'd ask about your day or what you were interested in, and I'd get a pic of your gut in an office chair with "whoaaaaa just drank two liters of soda :/ so bloated rn." How do I respond to that? "Good"? 😭

I think the worst DM I got was a guy saying I was "in denial about being a housewife," which I mean, I've dabbled in misogyny kink content before. Bimbofication is literally on my profile. I've never brought up my feminist views or politics, although I would consider myself a feminist, since all people should have equal rights and freedom of expression. I also believe housewives can be feminists. There is nothing on my account about my political views, nor about my career or education, because it's not important to writing porn about feeding dudes cake.

When I brushed him off with a "Haha," he just kept going, paragraphs and paragraphs about how he wanted me to be his trophy wife and clean his shit out of a bucket??? You don't even know me??? And I never responded, but it really just made me realize--just saying I'm into femdom, no matter what it is, is seen as a political transgression to these people. I'm literally into gentle femdom and want a chubby hubby/wife that I can make happy and secure financially. None of my posts are "Women are superior, men should be locked in cages." Most of my posts are "I want a gym guy who enjoys my cooking and jerks off a lot."

I DO use female supremacy tags sometimes because I use dozens of tags, and that's on me. I just type "fem" and click the ones that come up. I've also written works that are VERY misogynistic, like calling myself a fleshlight or literally writing fics about me getting gangbanged. I feel like this guy just saw "femdom" in my username and lost his mind. By tagging my stuff like this, I honestly was asking for trouble to come, so yeah, I think I just got unwanted attention I wasn't ready for.

In regards to talking about others topics, I just figured no one gave a shit, and people probably don't, but I am very passionate about metal music and music history. I have a useless amount of knowledge about various 90s/2000s metal bands and music from that time. If I get asked questions about it, I'll answer, and I DO need to follow more people on this website, but my current answer is: I don't know, maybe. I'll see how I feel.

[havecourage-darling]

What You Meant To Me // Eddie Munson

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, so Person B goes undercover as their lover 

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

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

warnings: light smut at the end, implied sexual content || Mayfield! Adopted Female Reader, Rockstar! Eddie, canon compliant

///

“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: just reposting this one now that my stuff is reflecting in the tags correctly -- because I wasn’t showing up for a hot minute there! :( 

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”*  Sade Andria Zabala wrote this but it fit and I had to include it!

[thedreadvampy]

btw about Neil Gaiman I periodically agree with the 'Neil Gaiman is annoying' stuff bc I feel like both he and Amanda Palmer seem like people who I would go insane stuck in a room with bc we have very different ideas about art and suchlike. and I also do think that the career trajectory he's on lately is cynically redoing his greatest hits and pretending that was the dream all along when it clearly was not. which is at best meh.

having said which

as far as I can tell by far the most common complaint about Neil Gaiman is "Snow, Glass, Apples is problematic/gross/it's got incest and rape and frames the child as the aggressor"

which strikes me as a weird complaint to pull out of a 40 year body of work tbh when that short story is pretty clearly coming from a place of 'how far can I push this'. like you don't have to like the story. I don't really like the story. but it is. a horror story.

like and this is the thing with particularly 90s alt horror right? a lot of the interest is in transgression and sitting in the worst possible perspective and seeing what happens if you pull those strings. like I really like Clive Barker for example but there's a good chunk of his short stories that I'm like I'm not picking up what you're putting down Clive this seems Kinda Off. but that willingness to write some trite or Bad Message horror fiction that doesn't land is imo a side effect of being willing to try writing uncomfortable and unpleasant fiction at all. which is what horror is for, among other things, it's for creating discomfort as a form of catharsis or engagement.

like I am not a huge fan of the type of sex-horror that pops up in a lot of Gaiman's work and other contemporary horror writers - to me I don't find it upsetting or horny it just ends up feeling kind of edgy and tryhard - but I'm also a bit like. it does seem like a lot of people's beef with Neil Gaiman is that In The 90s He Was A Horror Writer

and this approach to Problematic Horror in Snow, Glass, Apples I find kind of microcosmic of how The Discourse often approaches art in this kind of 1:1 way. if you write a story which seems to line up with rape apologia it can only be because you agree with it. if you write a story about transphobia you're a transphobe. if you write a story that makes me genuinely uncomfortable you're attacking me.

but artwork, especially art like horror that's not necessarily trying to provoke enjoyment as its main response, is necessarily hit and miss. and if what you're shooting for is discomfort then whether it works, falls flat or goes too far incredibly depends on your audience. and making good art - as in art that makes its audience think, art that opens the audience up to discomfort and catharsis and sticks with them and changes them - requires the space to experiment and tbh the space to fuck up. like they aren't all going to be winners and they certainly aren't all going to work for you as a singular audience.

personally I don't see the appeal of Snow, Glass, Apples, less cause it's nasty and more cause it's hack. ooh an edgy monstrous version of a fairy tale where there's lots of rape and cannibalism? you're soooo original Neil. but like. that's fine. I don't really vibe with like 70% of Neil Gaiman stuff I've read but I still like Neil Gaiman because the stuff that works for me really works for me.

idk I think there's a lot of folk on this website who shouldn't interact with horror cause they clearly aren't interested in being horrified. that's not everyone who dislikes Snow, Glass, Apples, but it's a real undercurrent to a lot of the criticism and tbh this kinda vibe is shit for art. making standout art What Is Good also requires being ready to make art which stands out for the wrong reasons. sometimes they'll be the same art to different people.

[chaoticgoodlawyerwrites]

Preview for HOMD Chapter 10

Hey folks! I am very tired and still pretty sick but! I know not how to rest if I am physically able to work soooo. Let's just blame my capricron sun. But now we present! HOMD chapter 10! This is, again, a joint effort with @mocheng-gusto!

---

Shen Yuan was reminded of this last unfortunate fact as he turned off his fifth alarm and read the notification to his most recent message.

✂️: Don’t forget to bring a certain special someone to our date today~ 

Fuck. Shen Yuan had completely forgotten about that part.

Not about the lunch of course. Yesterday he had been psyching himself up to “meet the family”. He was nervous but not anxious as he was putting together the outfit Mei Kexin had specifically made him buy for this occasion.

And just then was when his package arrived.

Alright yes, he had to admit that after that all other thoughts had exited his brain like an emergency evacuation. But by then he was too out of it thinking of silicone heavenly pillars to do anything but the most mundane tasks to keep himself busy!

Nothing to do about that. Fortunately at some point in the past when he’d been more mindful he’d put enough alarms to make sure he’d wake up with plenty of time to get ready, so he had time for a thorough shower and a quick breakfast, but not for anything more.

He would’ve liked to go on a jog to free himself of any restless energy but… thinking about it, he didn’t think his body would be able to take the impact. 

His musings were interrupted by his phone pinging with two new messages.

✂️: And don’t even think you can get out of bringing your man 

✂️: Remember how much blackmail material I have and won’t hesitate to use ❤️ 

Right.

That was the detail he hadn’t accounted for so far. Luo Binghe couldn’t come for quite obvious reasons, and it wasn’t like he had any desires to fess up that he was dating, married, to a mind construct, but he had other options. He’d disappoint his friend and her girlfriend no matter what, but Shen Yuan didn’t want to completely ruin their afternoon. 

Good thing he had a Plan B in mind. The problem was that he never informed his Plan B of his participation in this ruse.

No time like the present! Shen Yuan called Shang Qinghua as he was getting rid of all the gross beddings and towels.

The call was picked up on the third ring. “Bro?”

“Free food.” Best to start with his strongest cards. “I’m inviting you to lunch, with plenty of leftovers to bring home.”

Shang Qinghua was silent for a few seconds. “… Are you bribing me?”

Technically. “Are you coming or not?”

“Aww, no need to be so shy about it bro. If you were feeling lonely you could’ve just said so!” Sensing Shen Yuan’s silence as an impatient one, Shang Qinghua was quick to add. “But sure, why not.”

Shen Yuan discreetly let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sending a Didi to your place. You have twenty minutes to get yourself decent and finish whatever you’re doing.”

Shang Qinghua mumbled. “Every day you’re becoming more like your brother.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Just send me the info and I’ll be down when it arrives.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Whe–” Shen Yuan hung up before he was able to get the full word out. He had a couple of cars to order and a cold shower waiting for him.

-----------

Shen Yuan, because the shopping center was actually closer to downtown due to the somewhat upscale nature of the place, got there first. Shang Qinghua wasn’t too far behind, climbing out of the didi with eyes and something like fear on his face. “Bro, what the fuck?”

“Wardrobe,” Shen Yuan said before grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling him in, putting the little strength he had worked to build to use. “Don’t worry; I’m paying.”

“No shit you’re paying!” Shang Qinghua hissed. “I can’t afford to breathe in here. What the actual fuck is going on? Are you becoming my sugar daddy? Platonic, of course; love you but not like that, bro.”

“Tch, you wish. Besides, I’m straight. I’m just paying for stuff today so don’t question it.”

“What kind of lunch are we going to that apparently requires shopping?!” Shang Qinghua asked quietly, eyes darting from side to side as if a nervous herbivore. Shen Yuan locked eyes with a sales associate in the men’s section and, spotting a sale, the person discretely hurried towards them. “Oh, my God, are you taking me to lunch with your family!? Is Shen Jiu going to be there!?! Bro, I’m noping out of the free food offer if that’s the–”

“No, it’s not with my family, sheesh,” Shen Yuan said through clenched teeth before smiling at the sales associate. In a much more polite tone, he addressed them with, “Hi. My friend here needs appropriate semi-casual attire for brunch. We have a rather immediate deadline and would appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course, sir. If sir could please follow me…” Shang Qinghua was too polite to his fellow service worker to resist their urging, but he did throw Shen Yuan a dirty look as he left him alone. He watched from a distance to be sure that Shang Qinghua didn’t pick anything out that was ridiculous but otherwise left him to it, helpfully avoiding the questions his friend had about this ‘lunch’.

He would find out soon enough as it was.