#nice little project to work on for a while

[aninipanin1]

𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄!

Synopsis: In which your newfound fame offers you unfamilliar opportunities.

"Look here, Y/n-chan! Yes, that's it! Now smile!"

You definitely felt a little awkward, especially in front of the dozens of flashing lights that all focused on you as you tried your best to follow the intructions of the photographer and the director.

Garbed in a floral dress that had a bit too much layers in order to make it a little poofy, paired with a hair that took an hour and gallons of hair spray to maintain, this type of style is definitely something you were not used to.

As per most days, you always wore sweatpants and shirts for utmost comfort as you ran around to fix the facility you worked in.

"Lean your face closer to your hands! Nice! Very chic and pretty. Thank you!"

The cameraman gave his thumbs up while the director nodded, very much satisfied with the outcome of the photoshoot as the smile on his face said it all.

Now, you might be wondering what is currently happening?

Well, it all started a few weeks ago...

"What do you want?"

Ego's voice rumbled in a colder tone as he looked at the figure that appeared before the door. There, Buratsuta stood, smiling like a maniac as he approached Ego, and consequently you and Anri, who were there.

"Buratsuta-san... good afternoon." You bowed, out of both respect and fear, remembering that one time you were scolded up a storm just because some higger up in the JFU misinterpreted your sneeze as disrespect when it was not something you could control.

And you really did not want to be fired. Even if Anri and Ego were on your side, you knew the JFU had more power when it comes to the staff of the facility.

Speaking of the JFU, Buratsuta's grin turned wider, his teeth disturbingly mirroring the shiny greed deep in the depths of his heart as he looked at you which made you freeze.

He cleared his throat before throwing a brown envelope on the table before explaining.

"A very popular clothing brand from Italy sent us a little contract for the little manager."

Ego opened the envelope, and as his eyes scrolled through the paper, his eyes turned darker and darker.

"No."

His voice echoed in the room, throwing the papers on the table once more before turning his attention back to the screens.

"You are not gonna use her for another one of your greedy schemes. Now leave my sight."

A laugh just left the older man, as he looked as menacingly at Ego as the director of the facility did.

"Oh, but Ego. You do know that you may have a hold on the players and their placements, as the one who pay her, I get more of a say to MY employee than you do."

Ego's eyebrows narrowed even more. He read the contract, and though it seemed quite favourable to you, you were still a damn kid and teens your age are not mature enough to handle such a huge burden on their shoulders.

That was one of the reasons he was even doing this whole Blue Lock thing as well. To prepare talents into the real world of adult professionals the right way.

Though of course this fucking pig did not care abour any of that at all.

Unbeknownst to the two men, though, you took the paper in your own hands as well and started to read the long contract.

It was a modelling contract, with the company asking you to be the model of their new summer fashion line. The pay looked good, and it seemed like more of a one of thing for this line.

You never did have any experience in modelling or any of that thing, so you were very doubtful and confused. Why would this company even ask you of all people? Surely, there were better-looking girls who are more professional and knowledgeable about modelling than you.

However, seeing that a part of the contract was the company taking into consideration becoming one of the sponsors of the Blue Lock project as a whole, you knew deep in your heart you had to do it.

"Last set of photos, Y/n-chan! Look at the basket this time. One, two, and pose!"

With the little knowledge you had in modelling and posing, you pursued through it all. Inside your mind, you just cheered the same thing over and over again.

'For Blue Lock! For my friends! For Japan winning the World Cup! And also for a little money for me!'

You tried to put out the prettiest smiles and expressions you could pull while resisting the urge to blink due to the harsh flashing lights of the camera.

Thankfully, after the tenth picture of the set, the director stopped the cameraman and deemed the photoshoot successful and finished which made you bounce on your feet happily.

"You did really well, Y/n-chan! I'm surprised that you know the best expressions to pull when you don't have any experience in this before."

Feeling sheepish, you just bowed your head in respect before shaking your head modestly.

"I just listened to you guys and did my best. I don't think I would have pulled it off without anyone here, honestly."

The director nodded his head, thanking you for the compliment before leaving you to have a few bites of your food before you left the set. Some of the stylists entered the booth where you sat and ate, in their hands were hangers that had a protective layer on them, protecting whatever outfits there were inside.

"The company and director wanted to give you these! Consider them freebies for your work, dear."

It was the dresses you wore at the photoshoot, all crisp and new as if you did not use it at all. You were rendered in shock at the rather kind treatment. From all the nightmare stories about large corporations, the people from today were really nice?

You did not get to think too deeply about it when the car from Blue Lock noted its arrival at the set, awaiting you to head down and go back to the facility.

It had been a really good day, much to your surprise, and the shoot ended sooner than anyone expected. Now, hopefully, you will get your well-deserved rest and peace, even inside the Blue Lock facility.

But knowing it, that was possibly impossible.

"Well, they can do the impossible in the sport sometimes. Maybe they can do it when it comes to being a little quieter?"

"Oh my god, it is her!"

Welp, you did get your rest and peace for more than a few weeks until of course the photos and videos from the shoot were released.

In the midst of the boys watching recordings of matches, an advertisement popped up in the video mid shot of the player in the screen.

Normally, Barou would have started cursing the stupid advertisement, which in turn would have him be shut off by Oliver, who just wanted to avoid being scolded by their masted.

But this time, everyone was very much excitedly panicking in confusion. Or, in other words, feeling a pile of random emotions.

Because in the advertisement of some random clothing line was you, dressed in an ethereal white summer dress laying down in a bed of flowers like some kind of angel sent down from the heavens as some narrator advertised the clothes.

"Oh...I can just say today is our lucky day, huh?" Oliver grinned, earning him a glare from Barou, making the defender raise his arms, surrendering.

"When did this even happen?" Niko asked as he pressed on the link under the video that took him to the clothing website and wouldn't know it, on their newest clothes, there was your pictures on them as you posed for the camera like some seasoned professional model.

Those floral patterns and flowy dresses definitely made you look even more ethereal, sigh, you are very much girlfriend material, huh?

"I wonder if the others saw this already?" Aryu asked as he praised you for being absolutely glamorous, cause you are definitely slaying the soft girl summer aesthetic.

"Nah, we're gatekeeping this. I surely will gatekeep it." Sendou shrugged as the other boys nodded, Niko laughing in his mind at the others' reaction if they ever found out about this.

'Oh, how funny it would be if we are actually the only ones to know about this.'

"Ehh? Y/n-chan is gone again? This is the third time this week..." Bachira pouted, noticing that the usual spot you would be eating lunch was empty once again.

"She's probably busy in her office again. Besides, we saw her yesterday, so it's fine." Isagi shrugged before continuing on eating.

For the past few weeks, the boys were very much confused as to what was keeping you so busy that you would be missing out on lunch and a few of their training times.

Surely, you weren't preparing to abandon them right?

Yeah, definitely not. They are only being delusional.

Meanwhile, those from the Italian stratum were a little bit more on the lesser confused side of things, especially knowing the other job you were occupied in.

They were more than happy to support you in your endeavours, though, even at the cost of seeing you less. Because surely the company pays you really well, and most of them knew the struggle you feel from experiencing the things you went through.

This was your time to find success and they sure as hell won't be the ones to take it away from you.

However, there was one thing Ubers overlooked on this whole gatekeeping prank thing: Most of the players followed people from Tweeter, or rather Y, as it's called now today.

And said people were very much just fan accounts of you.

And well, they were not exactly the most quiet in the platform when it came to your newfound career. Though, the most comedic thing about is that it was their own fault as to why the truth was exposed.

For Sendou reposted one of the post and that caused everybody to see it. And needless to say they were not happy.

"What is this you reposted, man?" Karasu asked as he scrolled at the post and saw you.

"Oh shit..." Otoya said as he looked at the picture.

"Wait, is that...Y/n-chan?!" Hiori uttered in shock at the photo.

That was definitely you, in a dress posing as a model for a fashion and clothing company?

"What?! When did this happen?" Chigiri asked in awe at the amount of views and likes the original post had as well as positive comments from people all over the world wishing you the best.

Truly your power was just unbeatable, huh?

"So pretty! Of course (N/n) is always pretty!" Charles laughed like the gremlin he was as he ran to his phone as well to personally like and comment something about the sudden news.

"Tch, those people who styled her are dumbasses. Don't they know there are pieces of shits in the internet that will overthink that dress? She's a minor." Rin grumbled under his breath, cheeks red in both shyness and frustration at a certain lacy white dress you wore.

Sure, it had a cute wool cardigan on, and it was not the most revealing outfit there is in the world seeing as it was quite long and the chest was not low. But, the thin fabric was still a no no for the striker.

"You sound like an eighty year old grandfather, Licky Rin. I say she can wear whatever she wants! YOLO, am I right?" Shidou laughed, even more maniacally than Charles did, which was definitely a feat of his its own as he kept muttering about you being wifey material and wanting to crush you with a huge hug.

"These things look too cheap, quite unfitting for someone like the little bunny." Kaiser shook his head like a disappointed fashion obsessed aunt, just gulping away his water.

"That's literally a designer brand, though, right?" Loki questioned, very much remembering the name of the brand since they djd reach out to him before making him do his own research about the company.

"So what? It doesn't look like it at all. Someone's grandmother can make better designs than that." The German argued back.

"Geez, just admit she looks good in them. It's not that hard." Yukimiya sighed, finding the comments from Kaiser a little annoying.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Busted was Michael Kaiser as he avoided looking at anyone, though due to his pale skin, many can see the tips of ears turning red due to being caught.

"I think she looks beautiful, too!" Ness admitted, being a little less prideful than Kaiser as he liked the post the minute he saw it. Heck, he even started spamming the like button whenever commentd talked well about you.

As well as typing albeit too fast on the report button when it was something negative, but yeah, you did not see it. Definitely not.

"Y/n-chan is too precious for this! I hope they don't force to lose weight or whatever it is they ask models to do that might harm her." Reo worried over the many stories he has heard before of such instances.

If he heard of such instances, he would definitely not shy away from using his last name and his family's wealth and power.

"Oh, there are already edits of her..." Nagi said, scrolling through Tiktok and seeing the dozens of videos of the behind the scenes of the photoshoot, with likes and comments increasing as the time passed.

Meanwhile, Sendou only earned a pat on the back by Niko who shook his head.

Welp, that gatekeeping plan did not last long. And well, he expected it.

(Faceclaim as Gyubin♡ It's only a faceclaim so you guys can imagine yourselves instead)

"Cute."

That's the only thing that left the redhead's mind as he scrolled on the posts. It was definitely something Itoshi Sae did not expect, but the pictures of you were definitely not an unwelcomed surprise.

And nope, he's not saving them for his homescreen. Definitely not.

Now, he was wondering if there was a possibility he could work with you in the future. If possible, then maybe he would loathe photoshoots less in the future.

Hmm, he should ask his manager about this.

Then, his once calm expression made a 180 as he saw one specific verified account being one of the many likes in all the posts about you.

"That bastard..."

In all his glory, a specific Barcelona player, one Sae blocked and avoided with all of his might, was there, on the top of your followers list.

Why? Why the actual fuck was he following you?

"Looks like I have to convince her to block someone."

As much as he loved you, sometimes your charisma was a curse, too. And it was definitely one of those instances.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

You were taking a nice break after a really long day until you noticed someone trying to message you in one of your social media accounts. It was a guy you definitely did not know. Who was he or she?

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[theotherrookie]

Willow was glad they were all on the same page and welcomed the change of topic. While she enjoyed hearing about all the ways Travis and Erica terrorized people growing up, she'd rather learn more about the brothers they had yet to meet and file that information away for later.

"I take it having conflicting interests doesn't represent a problem for you." Willow mused.

Erica grabbed the seats as she shot forward. "You can dance? That's so cool!"

"Erica, don't scratch the seats. We'd like to use this car again." Nevertheless, Willow found her double's enthusiasm endearing.

"No claws." Erica said, before she nodded again, "Yep, it's a thing. There are many kinds of elves, some harder to find than others. I just wanted a normal back because I had enough of having extra holes in my body."

The survivors just didn't get that the bullets only slowed down the special zombies. Her tail and ears were enough to satisfy her elven pride and set her apart from the others. She didn't regret the decision at all.

"But I guess that it had some use because that's kinda where some of my shadows come from." Erica added, leaning back again.

Willow was quiet as she messed with the radio again. They were getting close to their destination, they had to be ready to make their entrance.

It had to be handed to Rook that she was certainly showing great self restraint there. She could have attempted so many things to make the pocket far more creepy.

"Yeah, it'd be unnerving to be in here with that kind of background noise." she replied, "Especially since you're never truly alone. There are a couple of fellows in particular that you don't want creeping up behind you. Being constantly on the lookout for which noises you didn't make would be exhausting."

And dangerous, considering the aforementioned prisoners in question.

"I'm just salvaging the pieces, really." Rook added with a shrug, "Between the Brotherhood guys shoving an entire building in and this place being essentially abandoned for decades, it's like we're discovering it for the first time again even with the instruction manual available."

"Even I wasn't aware of its full potential." Veronica admitted, "Although, I'm sure all that energy will be put to good use."

Rook chuckled, "Like I could get any sassier."

"You can't?" Lucien had a coin flicked at him.

"Well, I don't mind the approval. I never exactly got much of a chance to share my interests, being told I'm good at things has the same effect bubble tea has on Lucien."

"I'm well over that. I'm into peach flavored drinks now." Lucien protested.

"Oh, I bet you are. But I'm happy for you guys."

Lucien gave her a skeptic look as they got ready to go again. At least he got a nice bag of gold out of this. It would cover for the small fortune he spent on retrieving his cuffs.

Veronica hovered by Antonio as he put the coin away for the time being. "Chick's magic trace is embedded in that thing. It can be tracked down, so I wouldn't be so quick to put it in a drawer, if I were you."

Not that she could have much of a say in the matter. Veronica knew her limits and for now she would feel satisfied knowing she got a chance to mess with Bill. It was harsh being the responsible parental figure, she never got a chance to mess around.

She put on her stern look as they approached, feeling like having fun a little longer, and let Rook go ahead to check on him.

"Ah, nothing much, we stopped by the gift shop." Rook replied, "We grabbed something for you too. I figured you might have some fun with it."

And she hoped she would get to join in again. It had been nice working together to reverse engineer Ratchet's gadgets. She would have liked attempting some other project.

A new portal opened nearby, ready to be used.

"I sure hope so. Things start going bad when we don't care anymore what happens to children."

"It must be quite interesting whenever you and the rest of your brothers meet up. With such a wide array of professions, you may never be at risk of running out of conversation topics." Willow chimed in. It was a touchy matter for Erica and she didn't want her to upset herself with the current topic too much.

"We have to take turns and there's just four of us!" The trick had worked perfectly. "Well, I didn't feel much pain as a zombie, but elves like me are just born with a hollow back. I don't know what it was for, it didn't really do anything. So I let Willow get rid of it."

"It was merely an aesthetic change that didn't interfere with Erica's magical affinity, as we have now confirmed."

"Yeah, it's no big deal." Erica reassured, "But I guess that's why we didn't know about it. I'm glad Rook met Russell, though. We wouldn't know all of you guys if she hadn't!"

"And for that, we're both thankful."

Erica nodded fiercely at Willow's words, before looking ahead. "I think I've seen this part of the city before."

Right on cue, Willow started giving out directions.

"I had to do it for my own peace of mind. Imagine dropping anything in here. The noise will bounce back and forth for days." Rook said, before eyeing Antonio, "And I had to think of my guests. After all, if you're too sassy while in the void, the void will eventually sass you back."

Luckily, there weren't signs so far of the pocket having any level of awareness. Perhaps its artificial nature meant it'd never fully go beyond reacting to the presence of those tied to it.

"Oh, I really panicked at first." Rook admitted, "Because I kinda sneaked in to see where mum was going and I got left behind. But then I just got bored of the panic and started poking around again. I guess it's just the effect this place has on you after you've been here for a while."

It did help that after a while it occurred to her she wasn't feeling hungry or tired. Not being directly affected by the passing of time while being in that glorified broom closet took part of the urgency away.

"Alchemy and herbalism are different disciplines. The ability to directly control the temperature and intensity of our fire is however a major advantage." Veronica replied, "I wouldn't mind sharing some of my knowledge on the subject. It can be very useful at times."

It wasn't just good for creating huge piles of precious items they could treat like Lego, after all. Rook was glad to see her gift was being appreciated.

"Anything for my big bro. But that coin you picked," She paused to point at it, "that's a lucky one."

She proceeded to pass more pouches around, even holding one up so it could be stored in the drone for the time being. They'd figure out a way to get it over to Simon's place later.

"Thanks, Leofric." She offered a second bag, "I can't wait to see what he'll make with these. It seems like he really likes smithing."

"I'm no expert, but I'll do my best with it." Lucien said, standing up, "Russell deserves to have something that shines at least half as much as him."

Rook rolled her eyes, "You guys are so mushy. I bet it's all those sweets you two eat."

Still, she was very happy for what Russell and Lucien had going for themselves. It was clear it made both happy and that was all that mattered.

"Well, let's catch up with Bill. He should be almost at the exit by now."

[spenceragnewfics]

A LOVELY LITTLE PARTY | Spencer Agnew x F!Plus Size!Reader

This was a request, but I was stupid and accidentally deleted the ask, so here we go!

Summary: At your best friend’s glamorous summer garden party, you weren��t expecting to meet anyone, especially not Spencer, the charming and down-to-earth gaming channel director. What starts as small talk might just spark something more.

Word count: 1013

Summer has always been a favorite season for you.

You loved the heat, being able to go swimming whenever you wanted, and dressing up in the pretty sundresses you accumulated over the year. There is also always one event that kicks off the summer, your best friend’s annual garden party. Perks of marrying some rich Hollywood producer, but you’re not complaining.

When you arrive, the party is in full swing. You are dressed in a white and floral sundress, and your hair has a bow that matches the floral color. The backyard of your friend’s extravagant villa is full of people, and it grows every year with more people being invited because of her husband’s work and the people she meets.

“Ah! Finally, you’re here!” Your best friend says, quickly walking over with her arms open wide. You two embrace for the first time in months, both of you being busy with life, to hang out more than a FaceTime call every few weeks. “Look at you! I love this dress! You have to tell me where you got it.”

The two of you chit-chat for a few minutes before her husband walks over, a shorter man following behind him, looking very out of place at a party like this. “Honey, there you are.” Her husband says, his voice filled with love as he gently kisses her. Once they break apart, he smiles at you and says your name, “It’s been a while. How have you been?” he asks, pulling your best friend close to him with a protective hand on her hip.

You give him a warm smile. “I’ve been good. Busy, but good. This party gets more insane every year.”

He chuckles. “Blame her. She makes it look too perfect, so everyone wants an invite.” Then, with a small gesture toward the man beside him, he adds, “Speaking of which, I wanted to introduce you to someone, this is Spencer.”

Spencer is dressed in a casual button-down and slacks; his curly hair is somewhat tamed and styled, but the heat probably messed it up. His eyes meet yours and linger, just a moment longer than polite. “Hey,” he says, giving you a slightly shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You return the smile, heart doing an unexpected little flutter. “Hi.” You say, not being able to stop smiling.

Your best friend nudges him. “Spencer works in digital comedy. He’s one of the good ones. Funny, smart, too humble for his own good.”

He laughs—really laughs—and it lights up his whole face. “Guilty. I'm a behind-the-scenes guy, so this kind of thing always feels like I snuck into a place I don’t belong.”

“He works with Smosh, remember the channel we used to watch all the time in high school? He’s their head of their gaming channel,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows a bit.

“He’s done amazing work with growing the channel and viewership, from a professional standpoint.” Her husband says as things start to connect. Spencer must be here for a work thing, and you just happen to reap the benefits from it.

“Oh wow, that’s actually really cool,” you say, eyes flicking back to Spencer. “I haven’t watched as much recently, but I used to binge the Smosh Games videos.”

Spencer laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, same. Except I was editing them back then when you were probably watching.”

You laugh with him, relaxing more. Something is refreshing about him, low-key, self-deprecating, genuine.

“Anyway,” your best friend’s husband says, glancing between the two of you with a not-so-subtle smirk, “I’ve gotta go talk to someone about a project. I’ll let you guys get better acquainted.”

Your best friend doesn’t even pretend not to be matchmaking as she squeezes your arm before being led away. “Be nice,” she whispers with a wink, then disappears into the crowd.

You turn back to Spencer, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The music floats softly through the garden, and the breeze carries the scent of jasmine and grilled pineapple skewers.

“So…” you begin, “what’s got you at a fancy producer party?”

He shrugs, “his company is looking into investing in some digital media, and so with Smosh being what it is, we’re top of the list. All the different heads of the channels were invited.”

You both glance over at the shimmering pool across the patio, surrounded by floating floral centerpieces and people holding cocktails.

“Well, at least you get fancy food.”

“Yeah,” He pauses, looking at you more fully now. “I just have to say, you look beautiful. Honestly my eye caught you the moment you walked in.”

You blink, caught off guard as your cheeks burn. “What do you mean?”

He gestures vaguely, his hand trailing through the warm air. “The dress, the bow, the way you just… fit here. I mean, not to come off as too forward but your curves look amazing in that dress.”

Your face flushes, and you let out a soft laugh. “That’s very smooth for someone who claimed to be behind the scenes.”

Spencer smiles, a little sheepishly. “That was smoother than I meant it to be, but… not wrong.”

A breeze picks up, and your skirt flutters around your knees. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling something settle between you, a quiet curiosity, a spark.

“Well,” you say, biting your lip, “what are your plans now? Go back to your co-workers?”

“I was thinking I’d start with finding a plate of whatever smells that good,” he says, nodding toward the catering table. “And, if I’m lucky, someone to sit with.”

You grin. “Lead the way, then.”

As the two of you walk side by side through the crowd, laughter and music all around, Spencer glances over at you again, like he’s still a little surprised you’re really there.

You glance back. A smile on your face that never leaves as long as you're at the party with Spencer. Hoping that maybe you’ll be able to extend this into a date or two sometime later.

[thepinkpanther83]

Grease And Honey (Pt.3 Check Engine Light)

Chapter Three: “Check Engine Light”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Previous Chapter: Chapter Two: “Morning Regular” Next Chapter: Chapter Four: “Ignition”

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter Three: “Check Engine Light”

You didn’t even hear it click the first time.

You were running late, hair still damp from the world’s fastest shower, one boot laced, one flapping, travel mug sloshing tea down your sleeve as you wrestled your keys out of your bag. You jammed the key into the ignition, turned, and-

Click.

Nothing.

You froze.

Tried again.

Click-click.

Still nothing.

A single, painful moment of silence. Then you swore so loudly it scared off the mourning doves on the power line.

You slapped the steering wheel. “Oh, come on, you were fine yesterday, you little bastard!”

The car didn’t respond. Which honestly, felt like the most on-brand reaction it could give.

You sat there for a minute, seething.

This wasn’t just any Friday morning, it was inventory day. Meaning you had to meet Callie at the shop by ten, log every last bag of beans and sleeve of cups, and then prep for the upcoming “Grindhouse Summer Bash” your aunt from Missouri insisted would “get the locals involved” even though she hadn’t set foot in Indiana since Bush was president. The first one.

You cursed again, dragged your phone out of your pocket, and tried not to scream.

The little hunk of metal and pride that passed for your car, a scratched-up ‘99 Toyota Corolla with one duct-taped mirror and a mysterious rattle in the dash, was officially dead in the water.

You had no tools, no knowledge, and no time to play mechanic.

So, fine. You’d admit defeat.

And call for backup.

The guy on the other end of the tow line was polite enough. Asked where you wanted it hauled to.

You paused, phone pinched between your cheek and shoulder as you stared down at your useless vehicle like it might rise from the ashes and apologize.

“…Munson Auto,” you muttered finally.

Because of course it had to be his shop.

There were two garages in Hawkins. One of them was run by a pair of brothers who once got caught stealing parts off customer vehicles to resell online. The other was Eddie Munson.

And whether he was a flirt or a walking heart attack in denim, he didn’t have a criminal record… that you knew of anyway.

So.

There went your last excuse.

The tow truck driver was nice enough.

Didn’t ask too many questions. Just made a few sympathetic noises as he hoisted your poor, lifeless car onto the bed with all the grace of a dying horse and told you you could ride up front while he dropped it off.

You tried not to feel embarrassed.

It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before, your Corolla had always been more suggestion than vehicle, but it was the timing that made your stomach twist. This felt… personal. Like the car knew exactly where it was headed and decided, “Yup. That one. Let’s go ruin her composure.”

You watched the scenery roll past out the window as the truck rumbled through town, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.

You even caught a glimpse of Grindhouse out the corner of your eye, and for a split second, you missed the familiar rhythm of your own coffee machines. Of Callie snarking about the menu. Of not heading straight into the arms of your biggest crush like some tragic sitcom protagonist with car trouble and a heart condition.

Munson Auto came into view with its hand-painted signage and the chaotic sprawl of muscle cars, pickup trucks, and half-assembled projects dotting the lot like a museum of Midwest masculinity.

And there he was.

Oh no.

He was standing just outside the garage bay, back to you, arms braced against the open hood of some dusty old Charger. He wore jeans that clung like a damn love letter to his thighs and a ribbed white tank that looked like it had seen better days, but God, did it work. Grease smudged both hands, one bicep, and the edge of his neck. His hair, longer than you remembered, dark and curling, was tied half-up but still fell in his face every time he leaned forward.

You blinked.

Hard.

Don’t look at the hair. Don’t look at the forearms. Don’t you dare look at the forearms… dammit.

The tow truck parked with a soft hiss and a low beep. You climbed out, trying to act casual, like this was just a perfectly normal Friday and you weren’t currently watching the man who’d hijacked your caffeine-fueled daydreams for the past three weeks actively make eye contact with a carburetor in a way that made you feel violated.

He looked downright edible. We’re talkin’ black grease, white tank top, forearms flexing like a trap, hair glinting like something off the cover of a dirty romance novel titled Wrenches & Wreckage.

And then… like he sensed you.

Eddie looked up.

Right at you.

And God help you, his face lit up like he’d just been told guitar solos were now tax-deductible.

“Hey!” he called out, wiping his hands on a rag as he straightened up, that lazy grin already spreading across his face. “You lost or just stalking me for fun?”

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out.

You were too busy reminding your knees on how to function.

You blinked. “I… what? No. God. No. I’m here for the car.”

“Sure you are,” he said, walking toward you with a confident gait and a smug little bounce in his step. “Totally unrelated to the fact that I’ve been looking extremely hot lately.”

You made a noise in your throat that was supposed to be a scoff, but came out sounding more like a stifled wheeze.

Eddie stopped a few feet away, tilted his head, and gave you the once-over, but it wasn’t gross or leering. It was curious. Amused. Like he knew he was flustering you and was trying to decide just how far he could push it.

“So,” he drawled, pointing lazily to the pathetic heap the tow truck was now lowering into the lot. “Is this your noble steed?”

“Noble’s a strong word,” you muttered, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Right now it’s more like a spiteful lemon with abandonment issues.”

“Rough morning?”

You looked at him.

He was still grinning, but it was a little softer now. Less performative. You saw it in his eyes, some tiny shift from “I’m being a menace for fun” to “I actually care if you’re okay.”

And dammit, that made it worse.

Because the answer was yes, it had been a rough morning. Your car broke down, your schedule got wrecked, you were already behind on everything, and then on top of it all, you were now standing three feet from the literal embodiment of your current sexual crisis, who somehow looked even better in real life than he did in your sleep-deprived, late-night brain spirals.

You didn’t want to admit any of that.

So instead, you sighed. “I’m just annoyed.”

“At me?”

“No, but I can rearrange things if you really want to take the blame.”

Eddie snorted and tucked his rag into his back pocket. “Nah, I think I’ve been punished enough just knowing you call me hot in your head and then lie about it to my face.”

You blinked. “I what?”

“Oh, c’mon,” he grinned. “You were looking at my arms like they said something mean about your mom.”

“I wasn’t-!” You paused. “Okay, maybe, but that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“That this is extremely unprofessional,” you said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Eddie leaned in just a little, close enough to smell the grease and motor oil on his skin, faintly undercut by something like cedar and cigarette smoke.

“You’re not at work,” he murmured, voice low, teasing. “You’re in my place now.”

You stared at him, mouth dry, brain fizzling like a shaken soda can. Then, because it was the only thing you could think to do, you said: “Do you always flirt with people whose cars are dying in front of you?”

“Only when they’re cute,” he said instantly, with no shame, and definitely no hesitation.

You sighed again, this time more dramatically, and finally, finally, let your arms fall to your sides.

“Fine. You win.”

“Win what?”

“The award for ‘Hottest Local Mechanic Who Also Might Be The Literal Devil.’ Congratulations.”

Eddie grinned so wide you thought his face might break.

“Well now I have to fix your car.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” he said. “Can’t have my reputation ruined by a pretty girl going around town saying Munson Auto left her stranded.”

You tried to scoff again.

But this time, you were smiling too.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the garage. “Let’s take a look.”

You followed without comment, trailing behind as he led you into the cavernous bay. The scent hit you instantly, warm oil, old rubber, faint gasoline, and something else that was just… him. You weren’t sure what it was. Probably a mix of aftershave and sweat and bad decisions.

It should’ve been gross.

It definitely wasn't.

Eddie tossed the rag onto a rolling cart and propped the hood open, resting one hand on the engine like it was a buddy he was about to interrogate. The sunlight coming through the windows slashed across his shoulders in all the worst and best ways. The white tank top clung to the curve of his back as he leaned in, muscles shifting under pale, smudged skin.

You told yourself you were looking at the car.

You were not.

“Battery’s not totally dead,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Starter sounds like it’s on its last legs, though. Probably original factory junk.”

You tried to focus on his words. You really did. But your brain was busy short-circuiting because his hair slipped loose again, dark and soft and barely brushing his jaw, and then he wiped his brow with the back of his hand like some kind of actual movie scene.

You swallowed.

Hard.

“You okay over there, sweetheart?”

You looked up, startled. He was watching you from under the hood, eyebrows raised just slightly, grease on his cheek like it belonged there.

“I- yeah,” you said quickly. “Just, uh. Taking mental notes. In case I need to fake being a mechanic someday.”

He smirked. “You’d be cute in coveralls.”

You cleared your throat. “Anyway. The car. Can it be saved?”

He gave the engine a fond little pat, then straightened up.

“Oh, I’ll save it,” he said. “But I’m gonna need a few days. She’s gonna need parts. And probably a pep talk.”

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Right. Of course. I can walk to the shop until then.”

Eddie grinned again, soft this time. Not flirty. Just warm. Like you’d said something he liked hearing.

“Well,” he said, brushing his hands off. “Good news is, you came to the right place. Bad news is…”

You raised a brow. “There’s bad news?”

He leaned on the frame of the car and winked. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of me this week.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting next, maybe a polite “good luck” or a quick wave before he vanished back into the grease and grit of his garage.

What you didn’t expect was for him to toss his keys in the air, catch them with a single hand, and ask casually:

“You want a ride to work?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I said, do you want a ride to work?” he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I assume that’s where you were headed before your car decided to betray you?”

“…Yeah, but I can walk. It’s not far.”

He gave you a look.

The kind that said I know bullshit when I hear it.

“Don’t be stubborn. You already brought your car to my shop. Might as well let me play chauffeur for a few days while we wait for her resurrection.”

You hesitated.

“Seriously,” he added. “It’s part of the whole small-town charm package. I fix your car, I drive you to work for a few days, I pretend I’m not using it as an excuse to spend time with you. You know, classic Americana.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips were already betraying you with the beginnings of a smile. “Fine. But only if you promise not to narrate the entire drive like a true crime podcast.”

He grinned. “No promises.”

His Camaro, sleek, black, and humming low with restrained power, smelled like motor oil, faded pine air freshener, and whatever cologne he wore that made your brain a little foggy. You climbed in, trying not to look impressed.

You failed.

The drive was short. Too short, really. The streets of Hawkins flew by in a blur of cracked pavement and stop signs, and the whole time you tried to keep the conversation light, but he made it impossible.

“So,” he said at a red light, fingers drumming on the wheel. “Can I get your number?”

You looked at him, arching a brow. “So you can ‘update me about the car,’ right?”

“Exactly,” he said innocently. “Strictly business.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re full of shit.”

“Oh, totally,” he agreed without missing a beat, pulling into the lot behind Grindhouse. “I’m 100% gonna use it to ask you out again. But I figured I’d at least pretend to be professional this time.”

Your mouth opened.

Closed.

Then opened again.

“Here,” you said, grabbing a pen from your bag and scribbling your number on the back of a crumpled grocery receipt. “You break the car worse, I’m suing.”

“You won’t,” he said, taking it with a wink. “You’d miss me.”

You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re gonna be late,” he said, nodding toward the shop as he shifted the car into park.

You didn’t move right away.

And neither did he.

For one second too long, you just sat there, the tension stretching between you like heat rising off asphalt. You finally climbed out, closing the door behind you.

Then, with one last smirk and a two-fingered salute, he said, “I’ll call you.” He drove off with the windows down, hair loose, stereo blasting Dio like he was leaving the set of a rock and roll romcom, and you were just left standing there, cheeks warm, heart skipping, wondering what the hell you’d just gotten yourself into.

Next Chapter: Chapter Four: “Ignition”

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000, @totallysocially

Masterlist

[lunarlillieuwu]

Might fuck around and turn one of my notebooks into a guidebook for the Tarot of Hours and Lucid Tarot

Like writing down the meanings for each of the cards

[ashipiko]

NIKO SHENANIGANS FT @theolivetree123 ‘S HOPPER!!!!!!!!!

niko is NOT shorter than hopper he is simply being annoying and hanging on his shoulder (after getting beat up probs) <3 my squishy

SORTA A SEQUEL TO THIS DOODLE

[tellmeomuse]

today I am feeling intense gratitude towards my patreon patrons whose support has allowed me to buy materials for a truly unhinged mixed-media writing project

[windupaidoneus]

it's hard for absinthe to look at emil sometimes. knowing they are around the same age but absinthe was allowed to grow even if via severely imperfect means, but emil is. hes always going to be the young boy who was experimented on & hurt repeatedly until everyone around him died. he feels guilty for being allowed to move on from that part of their life while emil isnt & emil cant even remember it until the lab... & when emil technically gets to move on from that body, from being that small abused boy, instead he has to live wearing his sister's face. his sister who no longer got to look like herself a very long time ago, instead resembling an actual horrifying monster. absinthe often feels his own life has gone far too smoothly compared to emil & halua. to everyone he knows, really. it weighs on him heavily

[day-mark]

megacon the only thing keeping me going rn and im not even going 😭

[the-heron]

its all fun and games until suddenly you have to draw the background

[sheyshen]

replaying through pandae and getting some laughs at some of the comments that brea makes about azem, especially now with the headcanon that my azem's his adoptive kid, like honey i want to know what kind of antics you got into that the 2 of the 4 closest to her have a "i feel a headache coming on" reaction if azem is so much as mentioned while also quick to compliment their abilities, and the other 2 are just so very supportive of their dear friend

[rawliverandgoronspice]

episode 2 rough cut dddddone!!! it is over 27mn, 29 with credits roll!!!

there is about 1h08 worth of "watchable" thralls currently existing right now???? yipee!!!!

[gu6chan]

oh yeah!!!! forgot to mention this is my last day at work :') honestly the pay wasn't the greatest (not complaing though, this is a public position and it was certainly enough to get by) but ngl this was probably one of the most enjoyable jobs ive had 😭❤️ for a ridiculously conservative population like this im glad they seemed to enjoy the numerous marxist solutions to all their problems getting slid in under the reasoning of "community/small town values" and "neighbours having each other's back" and 5 minute small talk about how taxes work at the line in the grocery store lmao

[wyrmapalooza]

Just finish packing up the fursuit commission for mailing :)

[cesium-sheep]

finally painted the little wood cutout I got during craftageddon (and tried out the paint pens they gave me)

[bastard-baby-snoots]

holy shit you're back?

we’re back!!!