#and he knows it because we talked about shitty customers

[xhoneygirlxx]

In My Feels

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Steve’s heart now belongs to the pretty woman who always comes in with her two adorable kids. When he finally decides to make a move, he’s shocked to find out she’s not their mom.

warnings: fluff. Barista!Steve. Reader and Steve are both in their 20’s. Nanny!Reader. Modern!au. Readers ethnicity/skin tone is not mentioned. Pictures above are used for aesthetic purposes only. Shitty writing/grammar errors, not proofread.

*if I miss anything please let me know.

a/n: day two of my birthday bash has finally arrived!! I’m so grateful for the amount of love and support you guys have given me. Although this is my birthday week, I wanted to spend it with you guys and give us both something we can enjoy :) I love every single one of you guys and I hope you like this!

Now I’m in my feels 

Way up in the clouds somewhere now 

Don’t know what’s real 

Working at the Java Cup, Steve dealt with a lot of different people. Tired students, doctors and nurses coming and going from shifts, and everyone in between. During the six months of his employment there only one customer seemed to catch his attention, you. 

From the moment you walked in he knew he was fucked. With one kid on your hip and the other in the stroller, you already had him in the palm of your hand. No matter what, rain or shine, you and your two kids always came in with bright smiles. Although a lot of your interactions were small talk or your older son trying to, his heart infatuation for you every single time. 

You were so fucking beautiful and Steve was nothing but a fool for you. So many times he would go home and just pray that you weren’t taken, that maybe somewhere written in the stars there was a chance for him. 

Steve wanted to ask you out but every single time he chickened out, throwing out multiple cup sleeves that had horrible puns written on them in the process. Ever since getting broken up with by Nancy, his self esteem and confidence dropped. No matter how many times his best friend and coworker, Robin, tried to talk some sense into him, he just couldn’t do it. 

It was comical watching him stutter and blush scarlet every time you would speak, tripping over his words like it was his first time ever talking. Because he was so smitten with you, his insecurities grew and poking fun at him any time he would think about possibly asking you out.

Here you were, a pretty mom with two adorable kids that he adored, so sweet and kind to him, and so far out of his league. There was no pot at the end of this rainbow for Steve, but he continued to chase it in hopes that maybe, just maybe he was wrong.

Now it's been six months and Steve has run out of steam, his legs growing tired and his lungs burning with exhaustion with how long he's been running. So, he's decided that it's time to give up on his mission to of getting to the finish line.

There was no point to continue trying, not when you're probably more than happy with the father of your children, going home to your white picket fence and happy home. So he pulled back, watched from behind the counter, and continued to daydream about the life he's always wanted.

“You know you could just go talk to her, right?” Robin’s voice is louder than she thinks, the low music and hum of the espresso machine doing little to cover it up. 

“Say it louder, why don’t you.” Rolling his eyes, Steve continues to wipe down the counter that he’s been working on for the past ten minutes. 

“I’m just sayin’, it’s kind of pathetic and creepy that you’re always staring.” Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, the brunette girl runs her hands down her black apron. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“What’s the worst-” Turning on his heel quickly, Steve stares at his best friend with wide eyes, “Robin, there is a laundry list of things that could go wrong.” 

“Yeah? Try me.” Crossing her ankle over the other, Robin leans on the sink with a waiting look.

“Firstly, she could be married,” Steve starts counting on his finger. 

“No ring on her finger.” Robin counters. 

“Well she’s a mom with two kids, I doubt she has time for a twenty something, no good, barista that barely has his life together.” 

“EEEEEEEE WRONG,” She makes a loud buzzer noise, “One you aren’t no good, you’re actually a really great person who needs to see just how amazing he is. Two, you may be a barista who can barely keep his life together but, you’re reliable and take care of yourself, not to mention you have your own car and place, more than other twenty somethings. And lastly, you’re also a mother to a group of teenagers, so it works perfectly.” 

Dropping his hands down to his sides, Steve lets the words settle into his heart. He was a good person, he did have a good impression with the gaggle of kids he sometimes watches, and he did have some of his life together.

“Okay well, she could reject me and I will not only lose more of my confidence but I’ll also lose my favorite customer.” Sighing in defeat, he whips the rag that still sits in his hand over his shoulder. "Either way, I gave up on that dream a long time ago."

Robin shakes her head, stepping forward to the boy she calls her best friend and shakes him by the shoulders. “You are Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington! There was a reason everyone called you king Steve and it wasn’t just because you were a huge dick.” 

“Hey!!” Steve raises his voice in defeat and she waves him off continuing her peptalk. 

“Listen, I know that lady killer is somewhere in there,” She pokes at his chest, “So you’re gonna put your big boy panties on, walk up to her and ask her out! I’m sick and tired of watching you look all sad and depressing, so you’re going to do as I say or I’ll do it for you.” Smiling brightly at him, the girl taps him lovingly on the shoulder.

Robin may be a lot of things, including annoying, but a liar is not one of them. Steve knows that she will one hundred percent walk up to you, throw him under the bus, with a mega-watt smile as she does it.

Watching his friend walk around the counter with a broom and dust pan in hand, her head turns to wear your sat at a table by the front window, talking to your older son, rocking your baby in the stroller with your foot. Turning her attention back to Steve, she smiles wickedly and turns slightly like she’s heading your way. Anxiety rises in the back of his throat, heartbeat picking up and banging hard in his chest.

“Fine, I’m going just- fuck off.” It comes out through gritted teeth. Running a shaking hand down the front of his apron, Steve rounds the counter muttering something under his breath.

As he walks to the table, Robin gives him two thumbs up and an exaggerated smile to which he replies by simply throwing a middle finger up at her.

As he steps closer to your table the thought of turning back around and hiding in the back room comes into mind.

There’s no pot of gold here, only gray clouds and roaring thunder. He can turn back now and continue his sorrowful journey of pining.

But then he looks at you, smiling and laughing at something the young boy next to you said, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. What a beautiful way to die, Steve thinks. The thunder and lightning is all worth it when he gets to see you as he takes his final breaths.

“H-hey,” His voice is wobbly, nervousness clearly showing as he speaks.

“Hi Steve.” Your eyes meet his, saccharine smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

“Hi steeb!” The young boy next to you waves while clutching a red crayon in his tiny hand.

“Hi Aidan. How are you little man?” Steve seems to loosen up a bit, the presence of your son lets him exhale just slightly.

“M’colorin a pixture.” The small boy’s tongue pokes between his lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he draws what looks like a demented stick figure.

“It looks good, little dude.” Steve encourages, cooing sweetly at him.

“Fanks.” Still focusing on his picture, the smaller boy grabs a different crayon from the box that sits on the table.

“What’s up, Steve?” You ask, still rocking the stroller back and forth with your tennis shoe covered foot.

“Oh-h yeah, um I was just gonna ask, ah what you were doing.” Just like a switch, he’s back to being a fumbling doofus.

You giggle at him and he feels his cheeks tingle with heat. Looking between the two kids, you look back up to the older man in front of you.

“Well, I’m enjoying a coffee while Aidan colors and Bella naps peacefully.” You nod your head slowly, eyeing the barista questioningly.

Steve wants to slap a hand on his forehead, embarrassed by the fact he can’t even formulate one sentence.

“Yeah, no I see that. Seems fun, I mean not fun but like ya know, seems-“ His stammering is cut off by your soft voice.

“Are you okay? You seem really nervous.” Your eyebrows are pinched together, worry painted on your features.

“Me? I’m great, fantastic!” It comes enthusiastic and way louder than he intended, so loud that Robin hears and instantly facepalms.

“Well, that’s great Steve.” You’re still eyeing him suspiciously and he really wants to jump ship.

“I’m just gonna go and do my ugh, my stuff.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, spinning on the ball of his feet leaving before he can say anything else embarrassing.

No, he can’t leave now, not when he’s made it this close to the finish line. This is what he’s been waiting for, the treasure he’s been searching for. It’s no or never and he can’t go back to praying the same prayer that somewhere in this universe you two were destined to be.

With a new found confidence, he turns right back into the eye of the storm and faces it head strong.

“Actually, I came over here because I wanted to know if maybe you’d like to go out sometime.” His chest is puffed out like, more sure of himself than he’s ever been.

The confidence that’s surging through him starts to falter when he reads your expression. You, and Aidan who has now stopped coloring, stare at him with bugged out eyes and gaping mouths.

“Only if that’s okay with you and all. If you want you can bring the kids along and we can go get ice cream and stuff but if you need it I have some friends who are great with kids and who will be willing to babysit for you.” He’s back peddling, trying to give you a way out in case you want to reject him it won’t hurt so bad.

“Oh Steve,” it’s said with pity and he knows the lighting strike is about to hit, “I-I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah no I get it, sorry if I- wait..” Stopping in his tracks, he looks back and forth between you and the small boy, connecting the dots in his head. “You’re not their mom?”

You and Aidan share a look before giggling together. Gazing back up at the flustered man in front of you, you smile kindly at him.

“No, I’m their nanny, Steve. Although I love them like they’re my own, they’re not.”

“Oh.” Steve continues to stare at you, his pretty pink lips in the shape of an O.

“Yeah, I just watch these little guys.” You shrug your shoulders.

“That’s still cool, I mean the offer still stands.” Even though he’s confused, his voice is a little shaky when he asks.

“Do the kids still have to come?” You ask and Aidan shouts an offended “hey”.

“I mean they can if you want, it’s all up to you.” He eyes you, waiting for your reaction but your expression doesn’t give him much to go on.

“Hmmm, I’m going to have to ask my trusted right hand man.” Holding a finger up at him, you leave over to the smaller boy next to you.

Aidan covers you hear with a small hand trying to cover the movements of his lips, even though Steve can still his his muffled whispers from where he stands.

Shaking your head, you repeat back uh huh’s to him, taking everything that’s being said seriously.

Moving back to your upright position, you stare at Steve with a serious gaze.

“Well, my counsel says I should go but you have to buy me ice cream. No buts about it.” Your straight face begins to falter when Steve’s white teeth shine at you.

“Yeah, I’ll get you whatever ice cream you want.” Steve bobs his head, cheeks flaring pink and eyes shining brightly.

“You can’t kiss, only mommies and daddies do dat stuff.” Aidan pipes in and Steve can’t help but chuckle with how the little boys face is scrunched up with intensity.

“Yes sir.” Steve gives the little boy a solute, while sending you a sneaky wink, and the kid quickly accepts.

“So, I’ll text you?” Steve asks

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as you say it.

“Okay, cool cool. I’ll ah, see you later.” Steve nods his head, backing away from the table slowly.

Sprinting to the backroom, he sees Robin who pretends like she hasn’t been listening in.

“Robs, I fucking did it!” Steve whisper yells, still cautious knowing your still out there.

“I honestly thought you were gonna back out for a second! I’m so proud of you for hanging in there!”

The two of them start hopping around like jumping beans, beaming so brightly they can outshine any star in the sky.

“So you got her number?” Robin asks, heavily breathing from all their excitement.

“Fuck-“ stopping dead in his tracks, Steve bolts to the door and back out to the front.

That’s where he finds you’ve already left and he’s heartbroken. The only memory that you were even there is your lingering perfume that sticks to the air.

You’ll probably be back some time soon but he’s still a little let down knowing he didn’t fully seal the deal. Looking closely at the table, he notices Aidan left one of his drawings.

Picking up the paper, he looks at it closely realizing Aidan didn’t leave it, you did.

Steve,

You left before I could give you my number. I didn’t want to disrupt your little party or anything.

Can’t wait to get that ice cream.

-your favorite customer

683-027-9305

Folding up the paper, Steve sticks it in the pocket of his apron.

“Don’t worry Steve, she’ll be back.” Robin calls out from behind the counter, apparently not seeing the little not that was left.

“I know she will.” It’s said quietly but the smile on his lips isn’t.

It’s beautiful on this side of the rainbow, Steve thinks, the pot of gold was so worth all the work. Robin was right, he still had it.

Thank you all for joining me on this second day of my celebration!!! I hope you all enjoy!! Love you all ❤️

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[systemadministratorclu]

Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

[edwardallenpoe]

another bagginshield story idea because the writers block is still kicking my ass but I need to write it down.

What if Bilbo lies about his and Thorin's relationship and tells whoever asks that they're partners. HERE ME OUT! I know this sounds shitty BUT

What if he does it so that people can leave him alone. Or to get discounts/tax benefits (however taxes work in Middle Earth/The Shire). What if he uses his Scary Boyfriend Privileges. What if people already assumed they were together and he was too exchausted with Everything to correct anybody and at some point after wearing the mithril armor everyday and having braids Thorin put in and doing traditionay hobbity and Dwarvish courting customs he's says "fuck it we practically are at this point" lmao. Like they share food and spar together and both of them have continually refused marriage proposals and Bilbo's like "well if he doesn't know we're married then sucks to be him" about Thorin.

WAIT BETTER IDEA HIT WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS

BOTH of these cringefail losers lie. :00 Imagine: after months of living in Erebor and doing traditionally Dwarvish courting customs and Bilbo keeps being badgered about it he lies and tells people he's courting Thorin. And also uses this as a way to keep potential suitors from marrying Thorin. He's intercepting letters from suitors and being like "oh whoops sorry news must travel slow to Ered Luin but Thorin is already engaged:(( yep I know. Welp. Good day."

Then. For some reason both he and Thorin travel back to The Shire right. They're staying there for a month or two. rumors obviously start about why and where Bilbo had left. And while they're there they do traditionally hobbity courting customs and so nosy cousin's and neighbirs start badgering Thorin about their relationship and their adventure and Thorin's just like "yeah we got married back in Erebor. Yep right after he slayed a dragon. Yeah he was too cool to not marry. Yep."

And so someone like random like Drogo Gamgee or smt mentions what Thorin's been talking about to Bilbo and a dwarf from Ered Luin sends Thorin a raven and they both find out what the other was saying behind each other's backs and make out so hard Mordor explodes. Or something.

Idk it is like. 5:30 am rn. I had maybe an hour of sleep before I woke up in a cold sweat to write this down and read @/conkers-thecosy fanfics. You're welcome.

Edit: chapter one of Dragonfly is now here :>

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Actually the concept of Nightbringer is so funny?

It's a fish out of water situation like with S1 (and many other otome games) except MC won't be the fish

They're the one who's going to know the most about the Devildom's history and culture and customs (even thousands of years in the past) while the brothers have just been dropped on their asses fresh outta the Celestial Realm where, at this point in time, demons are thought of as purely evil beings who can't even conceive the idea of peace

The brothers should, rightfully, be the ones floundering because their bodies, self, magic, entire world, world view and concept of just about anything has being flipped on its head while MC who was scarily adaptable to new situations in S1 itself has been living in & out of the Devildom for years now.

The brothers are going to be given new high positions within the Devildom while still holding disdain for demons and MC's gonna be their "demon attendant" who they'll obviously see as a lower class of demon from themselves - giving them two reasons to disregard MC - except MC would be scarily competent and just seeming to quietly know everything while also being weirdly mysterious.... do you see what I'm getting at? MC's gonna be giving off a S1 Barbatos-esque vibe to the brothers😭😭😭 (though obviously less stoic)

Mammon's gonna say or do something and MC's gonna say "oooh I know that look" and Mammon's gonna be like "????We literally just met???"

Or Belphie's gonna talk about how terrible humans are and how he wants to kill them all and MC's gonna be like "haha yeah wow they're the worst huh" while trying to pretend they're not a human who was more than willing to kill another human for daring to point a gun at Belphie

Or the brothers are gonna be settling down in their new home and MC's gonna be like "lol remember to put aside some money for Beel" and Lucifer's gonna be like "wha-" and Beel's already eaten half the sofa

Or MC's gonna forget and mention a new anime that was supposed to come out and Levi's gonna be like "what's anime?" and MC's gonna have to sit there in silence for a while to process

MC's gonna instantly know how to make Lucifer's shitty black-darker-than-his-actual-soul coffee and that might be the reason why present Lucifer likes his coffee like that

MC's gonna know the brothers more than they even know themselves and that's driving me insane

Also pretending to be a "demon attendant" as if Barbatos who can see through timelines & alternate universes and Diavolo who can tell when people are lying won't instantly know. And MC who knows them so well is going to know that they know. Just constantly "haha yes I'm the sins' demon attendant that you definitely appointed haha👁👁" and "haha yes you're the sins' demon attendant whom we definitely appointed haha👁👁"

Also what's Solomon's angle here?? Because he doesn't start seeing demons as friends until after he meets MC in the future. At this point they're beings he can trick & use to achieve his goals (one of which is getting closer to Lucifer & making a pact). So he's definitely not helping MC out of the goodness of his heart and this is probably another way to achieve that goal (specially if he finds out MC's already made pacts with all 7 sins).

Anyway, sounds like fun times for everyone! Oh and also trauma for the brothers ig

[cloudcountry]

bend the rules for mc!

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones.

Summary: Someone shit talks Jack Howl in front of you—and you act accordingly. Only...acting accordingly inside of the Mostro Lounge is different than acting accordingly outside of it.

Author's Comments: I was going to make this Floyd centered for one of my friends but it kinda just turned into Floyd/Jade/Azul protecting Reader from stupid people. Also excusing their outburst because they like them. Bias.

~~~~~

You could barely hide your shaking shoulders, avoiding eye contact as you took their empty glasses. They weren’t paying attention to you—of course they weren’t, you were just their server—as they yapped away about Jack Howl.

You confirmed a while ago that they were indeed Savanaclaw students, coming to visit the Mostro Lounge to unwind on a Friday night. You wanted to go back to your dorm and hang out with Ace and Deuce before the weekend, but you knew that the Mostro Lounge was chaotic on Fridays. You didn’t need to ask Azul for a day off to know that he’d say no.

“I can’t believe that inconsiderate wolf ruined our fun.” one of the students cackled, slapping one of his companions on the back.

“Exactly! It’s not like we ruined his cacti or anything. Geeze, he’s up uptight.”

“I know right. He’s such a wimp for getting pissy about such a little thing. He doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“If you’re going to talk all this big game, why don’t you back it up?” you slammed one of their refills on the table, finally fed up with their shit.

“Hey, what gives?” the student you dubbed Savanaclaw Student A stood up in the booth, glaring at you.

“If you’re going to talk shit about my friend, then at least say it to his face.” you stood your ground, glaring at him.

“Ehhh, Shrimpy? What’s going on?”

A shadow loomed over you and the students, spelling out nothing but doom. The other two Savanaclaw students that had stood up to defend their friend now shook in the spot, baring their teeth at the person behind you.

“Floyd.” you acknowledged his presence but did not turn around, refusing to break your gaze away from Savanaclaw Student A.

You were not going to lose.

“Come on, Shrimpy. What’s happening over here? Jade saw trouble.” you felt an arm wrap around your right shoulder and a chin rest on your left one.

“They were insulting my friend. That’s it. It’s my business, you and Jade and Azul shouldn’t get involved.” you tried to shrug him off to no avail.

“Yeah, they’re right.” one of the students piped up, “Even if we did cause trouble, the bitch had it coming anyways. It’s improper for servers to do anything but serve.”

“Do not call me that.” you seethed. You were ignored.

“Yeah! They shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.” another student argued, his voice raising in volume.

“Aaagh, shut up.” Floyd groaned, slowly tucking you behind him, “You three are so loud. You’re acting like you want to get squeezed.”

Your anger could have softened to a simmer because of the responsibility you felt for the possibility of Floyd strangling someone in the middle of the Mostro Lounge (oh, Azul would have your head for that.) However, fate had other plans, since the students apparently didn’t know when to quit.

“That’s all they’re good for anyway. Snatching up information and delivering it to Ashengrotto. Were you going to get that slimy octopus to rope us into one of his contracts?” Student A sneered.

“Don’t talk about Azul that way either!” you yelled, unable to hold your volume back any longer.

“Oh dear. Someone has kicked up quite a fuss, haven’t they Floyd?” Jade hummed, swooping in beside you.

“Yeah. They’re giving me a headache.” Floyd grumbled.

You couldn’t see Floyd’s facial expression, but there was no way he wasn’t glaring right now. Leave it to a bunch of shitty customers to completely tank his mood.

You could tell Jade’s face was as serene as ever, though there was an underlying amusement in the antics of bad customers. From working there a few months, you knew Jade never showed anger or caused a scene within the Lounge. He always handled things quickly and quietly.

“Come with me, dear. Azul wants to talk with you.” Jade offered you his hand, still smiling.

“With all due respect, I don’t want to leave until they apologize for what they said.” you turned away from Jade, once again being held back by Floyd.

Jade blinked before chuckling lightly, turning on his heel back towards Azul’s office.

“Heyyy, you wanna fight?” Floyd turned up his nose, staring down at the students like they were vermin, “Nobody hurts Little Shrimpy’s feelings and gets away with it, ya know?”

“My feelings aren’t hurt! I’m angry! Don’t make it sound like I’m crying and depressed!” you shot back.

“Come here.” someone hissed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the fight.

“Hey!” you yelled, whipping around to face the culprit.

Azul was scowling at you, his glasses crooked on his nose as he marched you to the VIP Room. You didn't say anything else but refused to staring at the floor like a kicked puppy. You glared at the Savanaclaw students until Azul had dragged you into the VIP Room. You finally turned to face him with your arms crossed and eyes narrowed as the door slammed shut behind you. Azul didn't look at you either. He simply pulled out a chair and motioned for you to sit. Preparing for the scolding of your life, you sat down without saying a word. He sat down after you.

“Ahem. I’m sure you’re aware that you caused a scene out there. Which is not something Mostro Lounge employees are supposed to do.” Azul adjusted his glasses, staring into you with his cold, blue eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“However.” he cleared his throat, pulling out his desk chair and sitting down, “Jade brought it to my attention that the Savanaclaw students…antagonized someone important to you first. Because of this, they antagonized you, and you were simply defending yourself.”

Azul paused for a moment, shooting you a soft smile.

“It would be a shame to lose such a good employee. We all like having you around.” Azul hummed, standing up once again to approach you, “And as I’m sure you know, The Mostro Lounge is an establishment for gentlemen.”

The words from your escape from Scarabia rang throughout your ears as you realized what they meant.

Mercy. You weren't going to get fired, and he was even bending his policy for you.

You did nothing as Azul placed his hand on your head, gently rubbing circles to calm you down.

“Those students caused a ruckus that you were trying to control by defending your classmate, and me in the process. Since this was a direct verbal attack on the Lounge’s faculty, we are within our rights to throw them out. Jade and Floyd will do the honors.”

“Great. Wonderful. But I'd rather throw them out myself. I’m still angry.” you looked up at him, the anger still simmering in your chest.

“Well, darling.” his eyes shone with mischief, “We can always make a deal.”

[chrollohearttags]

toxic armin as your little mischievous work boyfriend that’s always flirting with you on the clock and trying to fuck on you after hours.

cw: nsfw, black fem reader, friends with benefits, both reader and Armin are toxic, fingering, car/public sex, mentions of weed; both consuming and selling, and vaping, perv armin, (he uses a bit of vulgar language), infidelity, backshots, squirting, oral sex, bulging, spit play, daddy’s used like once

📝: just a little random drabble I thought of at like midnight last night as one does and couldn’t get it out of my head. Toxic Armin is my new obsession as of late. This is also inspired by my boo @lemmetreatya ‘s lovely, amazing series!

working with Armin was always an adventure in and of itself. Someone who looked so innocent and sweet, always being as helpful as possible, would have never made you guess that he was the exact opposite, later on down the line! Having both been employees of the local convenience store for a few months, specifically the night time, where you’d catch a few stragglers coming in and out to buy cigarettes and lottery tickets. Third shifters heading out for the long twelve hour intervals ahead and stocking up on energy drinks, chips and candy to keep themselves awake. All in all though, it was fairly peaceful so it left much room for the two of you to get acquainted. You would go an hour or two at a time without so much as a single customer walking through your doors. Oftentimes, leaving you to your own devices. That’s when you first came to know Armin for who he truly was.

both of you college students, working part time for a little extra money but it didn’t take long for you to learn of his real occupation..watching him go outside for frequent ‘smoke breaks’; sucking on a vape pen while passersby would slide their hand across his for some sort of exchange. And he knew every single blind spot around the perimeter to avoid getting caught. The first sign that you knew this man was slicker than oil. That boyish charm was fooling nobody! But you were no snitch and you’d keep your mouth closed, as long as he promised to supply you with your own free of charge. “I got you as soon as we clock out, don’t worry..” It was a small compromise he was willing to make..especially for a pretty girl like you. Having a friend and his own personal eye candy in one made this shitty little side gig all the more worth it. So the two of you would sit in the chairs, watching surveillance and whatever show you were into at the moment from your phones to pass the time. Not to mention, talk shit about your clientele and any other topic that came to mind.

including the most taboo one..however, it did arise one night while you were in the backroom, getting ready to do a restock and you were confiding in one another about ex partners and how bad the relationships were. Now, he did have a notorious reputation for being a fuck boy as well so you took his words with a grain of salt. Even so, it was entertaining to listen to his tales of him having sex with girls who would sneak behind their boyfriends backs to come see him. Supplying them with the dick they so desperately craved before blocking their numbers and never talking to them again. “Damn, Armin. So you doing bitches like that? I’m scared of you..” always joking and teasing him as he tried to downplay his own efforts. You couldn’t judge him too much though because there was a slew of niggas on your own line that you had ghosted after getting ate out and then dipping before giving anything in return. Maybe that’s why you two got along so well..you were equally toxic! Still, he’d just give that same nonchalant shrug and pretend otherwise.

“You’re so crazy, (y/n). I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I do is work and go to school.” And indeed, that’s exactly what it would seem to anyone who spotted the baby-faced boy..with his pouty expression and pretty blue eyes. His blonde shag, always a little scruffy but styled just right. A single tattoo going down his forearm and a tongue piercing between his lips. It was easy to see why anyone would leave what they had at home for his ass. But you weren’t the only one with wandering eyes. Armin would catch himself stealing glances at you as you stowed away boxes. It was a horrible thing to do but sometimes, he’d watch you struggle for a bit to place one on a high shelf just so he could see your tits as your tight fitting shirt lifted or that thick ass jiggle in your pants. “Sorry, let me come help you.” His favorite phrase to utter after getting his eyeful.

he couldn’t lie, he had his fair share of girls but not one was seeing you in any aspect. From that pretty dark brown complexion, deep set matching eyes, tall frame and stacked, curvy figure. Your makeup and nails stayed laced..he had never once caught you without long acrylics, a new install or fluttery lashes, whether extensions or minks. Two gold nose cuffs sitting on your nostrils and a freshly started tattoo sleeve going down your forearm. Courtesy of your tricks that would be lucky to get anything more than your conversation. He respected it, honestly. One look and it was easy to see why you were always having your way. You could probably talk him up out of his clothes and a little cash too. This job was nothing more than a means to an end for you both. Something to pass time and make a little pocket change.

also, the perfect place to hook up after hours! You had developed a pretty promiscuous habit of flirting throughout the night; making little slick, dirty comments to each other out of earshot of anyone and even sneaking feels away from the view of the camera. When you’d bend down, he’d press himself against you..slowly rutting those hips to your backside. Rubbing up on your breasts. You didn’t make it any easier when you subtly bounced it on his pelvis to make him hard. Garnering a tiny damp spot on the fronts of his joggers. He couldn’t help it when you were so fine..and thick as hell. “(Y/N), if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were trying to get me in trouble.” “You are smart. How’d you know?” It didn’t take long before you could no longer hold back on those desires and things came to a head one night when he offered to take you home after getting off a little earlier than expected due to a pipe burst in the store. You were perfectly capable of driving yourself but he had other plans. Once back in the parking lot of your apartment complex, he’d hand off the complimentary he promised you after making sales and you vowing your silence.

normally, he’d pre roll your blunts but he had to see you in action for himself. Sitting in his passenger seat; windows tinted, doors locked and the subtle thud on music playing through the speakers of his Infiniti G35, Armin so casually reclined his seat as you placed the ground up seedlings into the papers..flicking that long tongue across the line to seal it up. The way he glared up at you, subtly chewing on his lip with his eyes half shut.. “..what’s wrong?” “Oh, nothing..you just look pretty tonight, that’s all.”

a compliment that shouldn’t have meant anything coming from his mouth but the way he so suavely uttered it, you couldn’t help but to feel something. You’d pass the blunt back and forth, getting high in his front seat until you began to feel a buzz..one that worked its way to your private areas! “Y’know (y/n)..you can lick a blunt real good. Thought I should tell you that..” Randomly declaring in his intoxicated state as he leaned over and brushed your cheek. At first, only making you laugh. “Nah, I think your ass is just nasty.” And he wouldn’t attest, not one bit. Instead, he’d offer to prove just how right you were!

his hand slowly creeping up your shirt and working to unfasten your pants. Those little lips brushing against your own in a weed induced haze and eventually blossoming into full blown deep kisses. Those once dormant fingers found home inside of your panties as your work clothes began to disappear from your bodies. His shirt off and tossed on the back floorboard as he crawled closer to you. Those lanky digits working their way around those wet folds and plump lips. Hearing you moan against his mouth in reaction to having your clit massaged. Watching your reaction as he buried it to the knuckle. Eventually, he’d work it inside; watching you nearly claw the leather off of his door handle as he spread your legs wider and fucked you with those fingers. “You’re so fucking tight, I can barely fit another one in..” but he had plans to stretch that little pussy out before he left. Soon, you’d find his head resting between your thighs and the sounds of slurping arose from that seat. “Oh, fuck..Arminnnn. That shit feels so good..” whimpering with that blunt in one hand and his golden locks in the other. So greedily and proudly devouring your cunt as he had never done any other woman before. For further lube, he’d glance up into your eyes; his cheeks sandwiched between your palms and ask a favor:

“Spit in my mouth, right now.” Further proving what you said earlier to be very true. Even so, you did as he asked; leaning forward to let saliva drip between his teeth and he ate to his heart's content. “Nasty ass..I love it.” Soon, you’d find yourself making a massive mess of his chin and center console. By the time he was finished, you left him with a mouthful of sweet nectar..the best he had ever tasted. And him being your best eater by far!

“I’ve never had anybody make me squirt off of head, you something else.” Laughing as you tried to fein embarrassment. But he wanted to see that pretty smile and you taste the remnants of yourself. Running his finger underneath your chin and feeding you sloppy pecks. “That’s nothing, baby. I can keep you coming all night.” Besides, you were his first experience with one so he couldn’t wait to feel that first hand..watching you flow all over him. But first, you wanted to return the favor and let him get a taste of what you had to offer. It wasn’t long before you found yourselves on the backseat; ass up in the air and his khaki sweats shuffled around his ankles. Seconds later, you were swallowing him whole. Sucking on his tip and looking into his eyes as you did so. You’d slather him up in spit, jerk him off until he couldn’t take another moment of teasing and start fucking your face. Forcing your head down on his cock until you cover him in all that saliva. And just because he was so good to you earlier, you don’t let up until he’s filling your throat full of nut and shaking violently from his orgasm. “Goddamn, (y/n)..!” Kissing you immediately after you make him come.

from there, you found yourselves fucking wildly; letting him give you rough backshots as you fogged up the windows in a weed induced haze. Only taking him halfway with a thumb in your ass until you opened up for him to fit more; Intoxicated on it and each other. “This dick feel so fucking good..” “..yeah? So who does it belong to now? Tell me.” And the answer was blatantly obvious. Letting him pound you like crazy until he was satisfied with what you said. Even choking you until he elicited the correct response.. “You daddy..it’s yours.” Losing count of the amount of times you make one another climax until you’re both too exhausted to move. You wetting him up and him emptying himself inside of you, begging with the promise of getting you a Plan B if you allowed it.. “I don’t want to pull out, baby..let me nut in it, please..” and the way he talked you through your orgasms, you were more than glad to do so!

by the time it came to an end, it was nearly four am and you were both so exhausted that you allowed him to spend the night at your place. Needless to say, there wasn’t much sleep once he got you behind closed doors…beating you sore in the shower and then fucking you slowly from the side until he fell asleep with his cock nestled between your folds.

from that day forward, your part time job became all that more exciting. And your partner in crime turned friend with benefits made the night shifts much more tolerable.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Boyfriend!Hobie Brown Heacanons - Hobie Brown x GN!reader

I am not normal about Hobie Brown and I don't plan on stopping

Before we begin!! I feel like Hobie would be really slow and hesitant on letting his partner know he's Spider-man (considering he wasn't willing to tell Miles).

So I imagine he'd try to juggle it with the band and all the political action he does. He just wants to keep you safe, but when it comes up he usually brushes off why he up and disappears sometimes. But if directly confronted, he's not gonna lie cause he feels like that's shitty. If asked why he's gone, he'd come out and say it, but try to soften the blow best he can.

(With that out of my system)

Okay first things first Hobie is the most SUPPORTIVE bf ever

No matter what he's always in your corner

Hobie believes in his partner a lot, and that means he'll always back you - even if he's the only person to have your back

And he knows you can handle your own, but if anyone has anything to say about it they can deal with him

(RIP to anyone who tries to talk down to you or insult you cause he finna roast they asses no filter)

He's an incredibly good listener. Like crazy good

Hobie's able to bring up things you don't even remember telling him, things said in passing that yoy may not think is important, but he still picks up on

Which is why he's really good to vent to. He may not have a lot of words of comfort, but is has a shoulder to cry on, and if you're angry, he's always there to validate that. Plus no matter what you're going through, he'll always encourage you to get through it, and keep your head up

Hobies also a low-key romantic (in his own way).

If you think Pavi is a great boyfriend then wait to you get with Hobie

If you're like most people, Hobie is most likely taller than you.

He's a lot touchier than you'd think, in his own way. Leaning on you, hanging off of you, arm over your shoulder, or crossing his legs over yours.

Hobie is a man of much slang and many nicknames (and part of the reason people playfully call Pav 'Big Steppa')

He'd call you nicknames more than your actual name - 'love',' 'darling', 'bird' the like, along with some few custom ones

Most of his date ideas involve breaking the law in some way and bashing the occassional facist together

Hobie is actually incredibly smart, both street wise and science wise, so I imagine he's pretty well read. I could see him really enjoying the some anarchist literature with his partner, and then discussing it with them

Protests are his favorite kind of date, followed by concerts, and picnics in abandoned buildings

(or, after he meets Miles, going out to graffiti)

he lets you wear his vest and even helps you make your own

He may not be as verbally affectionate or into PDA as Pavi is, but he still makes it clear that he trusts you and cares about what you have to say

He may not say 'I love you' in front of people, but he'll pull you onto his lap, or ask if you're okay, and give you slang-covered compliments all the time

Being Spider-man is actually a lot more stressful than Hobie lets on

And like most Spider-men, he looks to his other half as support, emotionally

being an international rockstar and anti-facist icon comes with big images, but when he and his partner are alone, he feels a lot more relaxed and a lot less pressured.

Hobie's been Spider-man for 3 years, meanwhile Pavi and Gwen are both in their first months of joining the spider-society. Because of that, he kinda feels responsible for them

He's been putting up with the Spider-Society's shit for years (hence why Miguel is so done with him)

There's definitely times he's come home to his dimension cursing and fuming

Any type of injustice or power inbalance really pisses him off, and sometimes if its really bad he can't stop thinking about it

Especially growing up in a totalitarian universe

He leans on his partner to remind him that there are still good people out there fighting for what's right

Hobie has already gone through most of his canon events, and he carries that with him, though he won't say it

From his reaction in atsv, he doesn't talk about it a lot, and tries is best to brush it off but sometimes, it just can't be ignored

his partner would probably be the only person he brings it up to and it just makes him more pissed with the spider-society

When he's relaxed though Hobie may be more quiet in private, strumming his guitar as his listens to you, or kicking back while the two of you shoot the shit

Pavi's energy hypes him up a lot though, so you two hit up Mumbattan a lot

Or he loves bringing his partner to band practice and mic checks. And he always calls them out in the crowd if he's on the mic

Last sweet stuff okay

If he's gone he'll give his partner one of his bracelets. He'll just be like 'oi, hold this.' then leave chill as hell

Gwen, Pavi, and Miles are all really supportive of you two, even if they have a thousand questions in the beginning (all of which he dodges or plays off)

He's not one to get jealous at all. But he will join a conversation and casually mention the rockstar-model thing. Just to assert dominance. A subtle flex

He keeps asking you to give him a stick & poke somewhere because he thinks it's a cute idea

He likes doing that thing where he sits behind you while he teaches you guitar

He loves having you sleep over, and you can crash in his dimension any time

Especially after he meets Gwen. His fave thing to do is to just play while he listens to the two of you talk for hours

Hobie is a really heavy sleeper but somehow gets up exactly when he needs to be or right before shit starts going down - otherwise he sleeps till 1pm everyday

If theres anything Hobie is, its loyal and supportive, and he wants nothing more than for you to be safe, and free, and happy

(even if most of his advice is throwing a brick at someone)

He is always pushing you to do better, to speak up for yourself or trust yourself because he knows how much you're capable of

And finally he knows your favorite song by heart to the point that if hes zoning out or missing you, he'll strum it on the guitar without even realizing

(okay bye lemme know what you thought thanks for reading loves also I am not okay i am obsessed with him )

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ Ｍｏｄｅｒｎ Ｌｏｖｅ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: criminal!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!waitress!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: crime au/a mix of fluff & angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: Your friends always told you that Kim Mingyu was trouble but when he shows up unexpectedly at your job, covered in bruises with a bag of stolen money, you see how much trouble he really can be.

୨୧ Word Count: 3.5kish

୨୧ Warnings: mention of blood/injuries, a gun that's not used but is in there, strong language, unprotected sex, a lil bit of rough sex, fingering, creampie, & that's all I'm pretty sure

୨୧ A/N: I haven't written in a bit and I really wanted to start writing something crime related so here we are 🖤

There’s a lot you’ve come to tolerate waitressing at the diner. Customers with shitty attitudes who leave even shittier tips. Line cooks who get every other order wrong only to blame you because you must have mixed their tickets up somehow. The thin layer of grease that lingers on your clothes, leaving the scent of day old fries to haunt you even after you’ve washed your uniform a thousand times. All of that you can tolerate but this, your boss screaming at you like some psychopath, never fails to make your blood boil.

It’s always something with him. This time it’s that you didn’t refill the ketchup last night before close even though you weren’t the one who closed. The waitress who closed, a soft spoken girl who only started a week ago, called in this morning to quit just like every other waitress before her. The only girls insane enough to stick around are you and Moon, the waitress who trained you and the only person you’ve ever seen go toe to toe with your boss. 

His screaming’s getting louder but you can’t even hear it. You zoned out ages ago. It’s like watching a TV on mute. If not for the growing redness of his face or the flinches of the passing food runners, you wouldn’t know a thing. Everyday you think about quitting. You lay in bed fantasizing about a life where you don’t have to put up with this to survive but in the end you always roll out of bed and show up.

What else are you supposed to do? You weren’t born into money and, luck never quite being on your side in life, it's not likely to just fall into your lap. So this is it. This. Is. It. Your stomach sinks as your boss steps closer, the veins in his hairy neck straining enough to pop a blood vessel. This can’t be it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Moon shouts, pushing through the double doors behind you. The noise of the kitchen cuts back in at a dizzying speed. Dishes clanking, grease sizzling, water running, cooks calling out orders.

“You don’t talk to me that way!” your boss shouts back, dialing down his rage as he aims it at Moon. She pulls her dark hair back into a tight ponytail, cornering him against a rack of dirty dishes. “You don’t talk to her that way! The next time I hear you yelling at her I’ll report you to the health department for all of the little critters we have running around here or would you like me to tell the customers first?” He wants to say something to her but he can’t.

He knows she’s serious enough that she’d pop on a glove and go show off the bug traps to every customer packed into the questionably clean booths of the dining room. “Get back to work!” he snaps, “Both of you!” With that he storms off to his office mumbling every misogynistic thought in his pea brain. Moon turns to you, giving you a hug. You let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the comfort of her arms even though she smells like sandwiches. You do too. 

“I fucking hate him.” “Fucking hate him for sure” she agrees, “But I know something that’ll cheer you up.” “What could possibly make me feel better?” Moon grabs you by the shoulders and directs you to the small round window on the door, “Your boyfriend’s here. Looks a little beat up though. Wonder what he got into this time.” Before she can finish her sentence and launch into another lecture about your choice in men, you’re racing to the booth in the corner where Mingyu sits patiently waiting for you.

He spots you in an instant, jumping up to give you a hug and soothe the panic that paints your face. A little beat up is an understatement. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. A busted lip here. A bruised eye there. A bandaged cut on the side of his neck. His knuckles skinned and raw. Your hands don’t know where to go or what to inspect. They’re just frantically skimming his frame, dreading the next surprise. “What happened?”

Mingyu tries to downplay it, apprecating that you’re worried for him but still not wanting you to worry too much. “Baby, I’m okay. Calm down.” He’s lying and you both know it. Everytime something like this happens he tries to shrug it off, pretending that he doesn’t get hurt worse and worse each time he gets back from one of his "jobs". “How can I calm down? Look at you.” “Look at me? What does that mean? Don’t you think I’m pretty?” he teases, placing his hands on your cheeks. Even with his fingers all beat up and achy, he has the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt.

He smiles and all you can do is smile back. Of course you think he’s pretty, the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, and you’re a sucker for him in the worst way. So much that you forget for a few fleeting seconds that there’s the lightest spot of blood seeping through the crisp white bandage on his neck. “Cute but I still need you to tell me what’s going on” you persist, glancing back to catch Moon watching over you as she works her tables.

Mingyu turns you back to look at him, the wildness in his deep brown eyes thrilling and frightening you all at once. 

“You trust me don’t you?” 

“Ming—” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I mean, duh, of course I trust you but—” 

“Then quit” he says as if it’s nothing. As if this job isn’t the only thing paying for the hole in the wall apartment you rent up the street. “I can’t just quit. I need this job.” Mingyu presses his forehead to yours, bringing his arms around your waist to hold you closer. “Not anymore. I can take care of you now. I just really need you to trust me and come with me. We don’t have a lot of time.” 

It’s impossible to make sense of anything he’s saying when he’s being this vague. You have a million questions and no time to ask them. “Hey! Play with your boyfriend on your own time!” your boss shouts from across the counter, “Get back to these tables before I fire your ass!” Mingyu’s jaw clenches, his temper ready to erupt on your boss for daring to speak to you that way. “I got this” you whisper, rubbing his shoulders to cool him down. He’s already had enough action for one day. The last thing he needs is another scuffle.

Your boss goes on rambling but this time you don’t drown him out. You hear every word. Every disgusting, vile thing he can spew in your direction. The thought of dealing with this every single day is torture. Mingyu's way out, whatever it is, has to be better than this. Your friends might not agree, Moon would surely have you thrown in an asylum, but you have to trust Mingyu or risk this being the rest of your life.

Grabbing a pitcher of ice water from one of the tables, you calmly approach the counter and throw it in your boss’ face. “Oh my god” Moon gasps, covering her mouth to hide her amusement. “Do it yourself. I quit. Mingyu, let’s go.” You march out of the diner, ripping your apron and name tag off as your sneakers hit the dirt of the parking lot. Your palms are sweaty, your heart’s racing, and you have no idea what’s gotten into you but it feels good. “That was sick” Mingyu applauds, kissing your fluffy cheeks, “I didn’t know my girlfriend was such a badass.” “Shut up” you giggle as he guides you to his car, a vintage deathtrap that his father gifted to him.

Mingyu seats you on the passenger's side, picking up a heavy black duffle bag from the floor and plopping it onto your lap. You stare down at it, too afraid to even touch it. With Mingyu’s line of work anything could be in this bag. Not a body, of course, it’s much too small for that. But guns? Drugs? “Just open it” he says, starting the car. You’ve been so deep in your own thoughts, running through the possibilities of what’s in the bag, of what happened to his face, that you hadn’t even noticed him get into the car.

Noticing your hesitance, he reaches over and unzips the bag. “It won’t bite, honey” he promises, turning out of the parking lot and leaving you to take in the bundles of crinkled money packed into the bag. You carefully pick one out, fanning through it like a deck of cards. There’s more money here than you’ve ever seen. More than most people will ever see. 

“Whose money is this?” 

Mingyu shrugs, flicking on the radio, “Mmm, it’s ours.”

“You asked me to trust you now I need you to trust me. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Mingyu made a promise to himself when you first started dating that he’d keep the other side of him hidden. He loves the way that you see him. You see him as his most ideal self. As the man he wishes he could be all of the time and not who he has to become when you aren’t together. But you were bound to find out one day and if today has to be that day then so be it. “You know how I do drop offs for the mob?” You nod, your fingers still petting the edges of the money like one would a new puppy or a luxurious fur coat.

“I do pickups too. Retrivals I guess. If people owe money and they don’t pay up it’s my job to go get it even if it means I have to hurt them...” He trails off, fearful of your reaction, but you only listen attentively, free of judgment. “Earlier I had one of those pickups” he continues, “Things got kind of crazy. A lot of people got hurt.” He flexes his hand, wincing at the pain. “Including me but, you know, at least I’m alive. The other guy...anyway. I was supposed to take the money back but I didn’t. I kept it for us.”

You insantly regret ever pressing him for this information. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss and you've just given it up. “So you killed someone?” “I kinda had to.” “Right. You kinda had to kill someone and stole a bunch of mob money now we’re—we’re on the run aren’t we?” Mingyu nods, chewing on the inside of his lip, “We are.” “Oh, fun. I’m dead. We’re dead. They’re gonna chop our heads off.” “No one’s chopping your head off! They don’t even do that anymore. It’s more of a burning the whole body thing. Buried alive usually.”

“Not helping!”

“I’m sorry!”

Mingyu tosses the bag into the backseat, freeing your lap up for his hand to massage your thigh. Your legs are shaky, every part of you is, and no amount of massaging can stop it. “This is a lot. It’s so fucking much. I can’t even…” Leaning your head back against the headrest, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. “I never meant to put you in danger” he says softly, “We spend so many nights talking about the life we want. A better life. You deserve it and I just want to give you that so when I saw the opportunity I took it. If it means anything, I’d die before I let anyone hurt you. I’ll protect you with my life.”

You open your eyes to catch him staring at you, his attention only half on the road where it should be. He means every word he says, no matter how fucked up his methods are. A part of you can’t stand him for what he’s done and you can't stand yourself for how small that part of you is. In a matter of minutes he managed to destroy the life you knew. A life you’ve been longing to destroy yourself for far too long but never had the courage to. You can’t hate him for that. In fact, in some strange, twisted way you've never loved him more.

You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. The two of you had plans to go out for dinner after you hopped out of the shower but hours of driving in no particular direction had exhausted you. The moment you sat down on the bed of the floral wallpapered motel room you were out like a light. Mingyu can’t bring himself to wake you up. You deserve the rest, he figures, after all he sprung onto you.

He has no real idea where you are. Your cellphones were tossed off a bridge two towns ago and every road sign in whatever nowhere town you stopped in is too faded too read. There’s no way anyone will find you here when you can’t even find yourselves. Even still, Mingyu finds himself pacing the floor in the darkness of the motel room, a handgun held tightly in his right hand. Paranoia weighing heavy on him, he wishes that he could fall asleep but every time he relaxes in the slightest another set of headlights beam through the curtains and he’s on his feet again.

What if someone followed you? What if they spotted his car? He truly would protect you with his life. But what if he failed? “Idiot” he huffs, hitting himself on the side of the head. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not hitting my boyfriend. Thank you very much” you yawn, stretching out, your eyes only cracked enough to make out his fuzzy silhouette. You snuggle up to his side of the bed, the blanket quite cozy against your bare skin for something that's for sure been here since the 90’s. You try not to think about it, your focus quickly shifting to the gun in Mingyu’s hand.

“When’d you get a...” you start but abandon your question. When’d he get a gun? That’s silly to ask. Of course he has a gun, probably a few. Why wouldn’t he? “Put that thing away and come to bed.” “You worry too much. I’m good. You rest.” Outstretching your arms, you pout and kick your feet knowing that he's a softie for your tantrums. “Five minutes. That’s it. Please” you whine and he’s already dragging himself over to the bed, reluctantly tucking his gun into the bedside table.

By now the haze of sleep has fallen away, offering you a clear view of the gorgeous man hovering above you. “Stop looking at me like that” he blushes, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. It sends sparks through your system, stealing your breath away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mingyu leans down to kiss you, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to ride the curves of your body. “You don’t?” he asks, nibbling at your bottom lip. He presses a thumb into the tender flesh of your thigh, feeling your body tremble the way you did in the car.

Only now it’s not because you’re scared. Fear is the furthest thing from your mind. It’s because you’re craving some relief, craving him, badly enough that the faintest brush of his thumb over your clit has you snatching him on top of you. Your tongue’s down his throat, legs thrown around his waist, hips raised to feel the bulge fighting to free itself from the confines of his jeans. Nothing gets Mingyu hotter than when you’re like this, clawing his clothes off as his fingers delight in the velvet warmth between the lips of your pussy. “Ming—” you gasp at how effortlessly his fingers glide into you. Your walls flutter in excitement as if to welcome him home and he couldn’t be happier to be back.

“You’re dripping, baby” he coos, pulling out just enough to glimpse your juices coating his fingers. You reach between you, finally feeling the heat of his cock in your palm, and stroke his length, collecting pearls of his arousal each time you run over the tip. “So are you” you tease, grinning at the way his hips stutter. With one arm holding himself up and the other busy between your legs, his muscles flex in a certain way that makes your mouth water. In your eyes his body’s a work of art and the feeling couldn’t be more mutual.

Your body’s so soft, so sensual, that he’s dying to be inside of you just to see the way your body jiggles each time he thrusts into you. Your muscles tighten, the ecstasy coursing through your veins making you feel lightheaded. “Make love to me” you say in the sweetest voice, not begging nor demanding, simply confessing how much you need him. Mingyu twitches in your hand, his heart skipping more than a few beats. Without a word, his hands are gripping your plush hips as he guides himself to your entrance.

He takes his time, rubbing the tip in the wetness escaping your core, bumping it against your clit to make you quiver. You rub his biceps, nails digging into his arms, giving him such a rush that he can’t tease you any longer. He delves into your core, feeding his length into you gradually until every inch of him fills you. “So beautiful” he whispers, kissing between your breasts as he strokes in and out of you. His tongue traces the contours of your breast, flicking at your nipple before his lips wrap around it. Nibbling, suckling, all while watching the faces you make when he hits that sensitive spot.

He’s throbbing inside of you, so tight against your walls that you swear you can feel the blood rushing through those pretty veins that run up his cock. It’s sweet of him starting out slow but you want more. You press down onto him, using the minimal space between your bodies to ride him, picking up the pace. Mingyu gets the hint, rising to his knees as he presses yours to your chest. “You said make love to you” he says, his hands tucked behind your knees, “If you wanted me to fuck you, you should’ve just said so.”

He kisses you ravenously, like he wants to consume you entirely, wasting no time pulling back to bounce you on his cock, his hips moving faster with each thrust. Mingyu palms the softest part of your stomach, caressing it as his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, feeling your breath as you cry out his name. “Mingyu—ah—yes—fuck. Harder!” you scream and this time you are begging.

Never being a man to deny you what you want, he obeys. Harder, faster, impossibly deeper, until you feel him in every part of you. Holding onto his wrists, you surrender, letting yourself get lost in him. So lost that you’re caught off guard by the sudden explosion of the pressure that's been building inside of you. Your lids barely fall shut before they’re shooting back open, your body quivering as your orgasm barrels down on you. Mingyu’s hypnotized by the sight of you, addicted to the way you gush and clench around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. So pretty when you cum for me, aren’t you? So so pretty. Mmm—.” He wants to hold back, to at least try, but it’s no use. How can he hold back anything with you? It only takes one more pulse of your walls for him to come undone, barely able to maintain his thrusts as he spills into you. You’d feel this forever if you could. The warmth and the fullness. You’re so greedy for it, taking every drop until he’s collapsed beside you trying to come back down to earth.

Using the last bit of energy in your body, you lay your head on his chest, tossing the blanket over the two of you. “Tomorrow you’ll teach me how to shoot?” Mingyu wraps an arm around you, gently petting your hair. “You? With a gun? No way.” You nod, intimidated but confident in your decision, “We’re in this together now aren’t we? It’s not just about you protecting me. I wanna protect you too. So teach me.”

His instinct is to tell you no, that he can protect both of you on his own, but he knows it’s not fair. He’s the one who drug you into this, the least he can do is show you how to defend yourself.

“I’ll teach you. Tomorrow,” he relents, “But tonight it’s back to sleep, okay?”

"Only if you promise to stay here with me.”

“Always.”

Silence falls across the room and, as you drift back off to sleep, you know there’s so much more to that “always”. “Always” doesn’t just mean tonight or tomorrow. It’s more than next week or next year. It stretches far beyond whatever hell might lie before you. It means forever. It means that Mingyu would go to the ends of the earth for you. And there’s no way you won’t be by his side when he does. 

[ohbabydollie]

omg as a kitchen porter/ waitress i am actually drooling over chef schlatt pls do more on this x 🫶🩷

ofc! (for clarification i did get inspo from bistro huddy n when i worked in a kitchen) (also had to take a break from so much smut writing 😭)

let’s say reader is a waitress now!

schlatt asks you specifically to make him drinks bc “he doesn’t know how the machines work”

“perfect, absolutely perfect, y’know no one else can make a drink as good as you y/n”

if someone else makes the drink he’s like “yeah, it’s a drink for sure”

other waiters are complaining about “favorism” because he won’t tear into you when you forget ring in an order and will have it made on the fly

he does tear into other servers though

you bring him energy drinks whenever you start your shift

especially if he’s working a double you make sure to keep him supplied

he gets jealous if you show another cook more attention than you did him that day but won’t ever admit it

talking shit about some customers while he’s cooking

“then they were like why haven’t we gotten our drinks yet? like sir, you were seated not even 10 minutes ago and we’re packed” you said grabbing a fry “not to mention the way his little sugar baby was giving me the stink eye, like i don’t want your crusty lipped rude ass grandpa”

schlatt lets out a chuckle at this “shit, tell ‘er ya got a hotter man waitin’ in the back”

if you had a boyfriend when you started at the restaurant, he got dumped real fast when you realized how shitty he treated you in comparison to schlatt

“and you won’t believe it! he got fired and called me in the middle of dinner rush to complain! then i got home and he was complaining about how dirty the apartment is, like i was home to make the mess and not to mention he asked when dinner would be ready!” you complain to one of the cooks

“really, must be awful n/n” he says as schlatt walks in “hey n/n” schlatt says smiling “came ‘ere for some fries” he asks with a smile

“no, i, i was just venting” you say with a soft sigh, now calming down

“really? ‘bout that piece a shit boyfriend huh?” schlatt says getting a slice of cake for you “here ya go sweetheart” he says handing it to you “ya deserve at least one man who don’t treat ya like trash”

he doesn’t stop with the flirting even once the two of you are dating

“ugh, these people tipped like shit” you groan “i’ve got a tip for ya, but you’ll have ta take it in private” schlatt says as you giggle making the other line cooks groan

“i’m gonna puke all over the food if the two of you don’t stop” alex groans

when you go into the freezer to scream, schlatt asks what’s wrong and depending on what it is, he’ll try to help you out

he gives you fries and little treats when you want them and when he thinks you can use them the most

you’ll bring in little things for the kitchen from time to time

they love you because you’ve managed to melt the heart of their asshole boss

“aww, you guys are so cute” one of the waitresses says smiling

“how ‘bout you shut the fuck up and go run food” he says muttering some more unsavory words under his breath

[lovebugism]

the customer’s always right just gave me life, they're just so sweet AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | heart-shaped

summary: you think you might be falling in love with eddie. eddie thinks he might be falling for you. a series of stashed away insecurities threaten to get in the way. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 10k holy moly warnings: talks of drugs, shitty boyfriends, and being a whore <3 also reader gets fingered <3 a lil bit of angst, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ah shit here we go again!! thanks for waiting so patiently for me to get over my writer's block and finally post! reading all the feedback for this series has been so nice, all of you guys are so so sweet <333 anyway, pls enjoy this installment and if you don't.. maybe don't tell me :^) happy reading ily!

( PREVIOUSLY) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Truth be told, working the lunch rush at Enzo’s wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

It meant you got to miss out on serving all the wine snobs at dinner who send back devoured dishes like it’s their job — insistent on a refund because their food was “unsatisfactory” just to get twice the meal with half the tip.

The rich country club goers you waited on were far more docile in comparison. They arrive dressed in pastel-collared shirts and pretty athletic dresses after finishing up their tennis practices or games of golf.

They sit and talk for hours, dine on the most expensive shrimp and wine, just to leave a tip so ginormous that you have to thank them before they go. It’s a flaunt of wealth more than anything. It might’ve felt the least bit demeaning if it wasn’t going directly into your pockets.

And it would be way too lame of you to say that getting to see Eddie Munson after your shift was the only thing getting you through it at all. That sort of puppy love belonged to high schoolers who don't know any better, you know that… But screw it— knowing you were going to meet him after was the only thing getting you through this mind-numbing, foot-aching, brain-cell-losing, eight-hour shift.

The days, of which there had been four (but, then again, who’s counting?), had been excruciating without him.

You couldn’t even sleep the first night you left his trailer. You felt him everywhere — your mouth, your chest, and between your legs — still buzzing with his touch even halfway across Hawkins.

It had you swearing up and down that the Dungeon Master had some actual powers you didn’t know about. That he’d cast some sort of love spell on you after getting you to come on his thigh.

You quickly learned that Eddie Munson was the kind of boy that girls lose sleep over; the kind of boy that reduces you to your basic schoolgirl tendencies as you grin into your pillow and kick your feet in the air.

It was embarrassing, the effect he had on you.

And you so desperately wanted to blame it on whatever witchcraft the town thought the leader of Hellfire possessed. It was easier than facing the fact that you were head over heels for a stupid boy. 

You didn’t even have time to face it, really, because you were already too busy falling for him. He had you tripping all over yourself and face-planting into the petals of a thousand roses — it was pathetic.

You’d catch yourself smiling whenever you thought of him, grinning like an idiot while you rang up customers at the register — more ecstatic at the idea of Eddie than the hundred-dollar tip they’d left you. It made you giddy to think about seeing him again, enough that it distracted you from the fact that you hadn’t sat down since your shift started.

Eddie had you full of sunshine and rainbows and mirth, like something out of a damn GAP commercial. It was a particular sort of happiness you thought abandoned you a long, long time ago.

Apparently, you were wrong.

You think of Eddie, and a foreign feeling of anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach. It almost makes you sick with childlike excitement. You didn’t know another person was capable of making someone this happy. It’s unfamiliar and daunting and euphoric and really fucking scary. 

It’s an otherworldly feeling that feels like it’s only happening to you. A secret you want to keep to yourself and shout from the rooftops at the same time. People bustle around you, keep on living their mundane lives, and spare not a glance to their lovesick waitress.

No one knows I’m falling in love right now, you find yourself thinking.

But that isn’t exactly true. Jim Hopper knows because that asshole knows everything, and notices almost immediately how strange you’re acting.

The chief of police was always a comforting sight amidst a sea of strangers, most of whom made more in a week than you could ever hope to make in a year. He's a breath of fresh air, as it were, which is strange considering the two of you spent the entirety of your high school career playing cat and mouse.

He’d catch you smoking, threaten to turn you in, and you’d beg him not to — pull out all the stops, the puppy dog eyes, the innocent schoolgirl charm, the whole damn nine to make him melt.

He’d take pity on you and let you off with a warning, as long as you promised never to do it again. And you’d lie to him, tell him it was a one-time thing, and he’d catch you a week or so later — getting high at the quarry or with your hand shoved down the pants of a man too old for you at Lover’s Lake.

And the cycle would keep on repeating for the next four agonizing years until you graduated.

Strangely, somewhere along the line, the two of you became pretty good friends.

Everyone once in a while, he’ll stop by Enzo’s during his breaks to keep you company. He never actually orders food, though, just binges on the endless free breadsticks until the buttons of his uniform threaten to pop. He'll bathe in yellow candlelight and chi-antee for an hour or more and then leave you a too big tip you always have to fight about when he goes.

Your pour the crimson colored wine he’d ordered into his rounded glass, flashing him the label before describing the vintage to him, per your boss’s demand. 

It feels foreign to be so formal in front of Hopper — because, after catching you with a mouthful of Tommy Hagan in a car back in '83, nothing makes either of you uncomfortable anymore. But sometimes it feels like your asshole manager is lurking over your shoulder every damn second of the day.

And having a job is more important than your pride, you figure.

“This is a medium-bodied, acidic tart, ruby red wine. The earthy aroma pairs nicely with the cherry and strawberry notes…” and blah, blah, blah. You’ve repeated the same couple of lines so often you’ve started to say them in your sleep.

“Well, shit, teacup. If you put that much effort into school, you coulda been valedictorian,” Jim quips with a signature dad smirk that’s half-hidden beneath his bushy mustache.

It’s not the first time he’s made that dumb joke, and it won’t be the last.

You roll your eyes more at the nickname than the backhanded compliment, because it isn’t your fault the sasquatch is six-foot-four.

“How much is this one gonna cost me?” he asks you and leans in his plush seat to reach for the wallet in his back pocket.

“Don’t worry about it, lurch. It’s on the house.”

A mischievous glint twinkles in Jim’s eye as he squints up at you. He tucks the leather back into his khakis. “Sure Enzo won’t mind?” he asks you because he hasn’t yet bothered to acknowledge that your boss wasn’t actually named Enzo. 

“Yeah, he’ll be pissed,” you confirm with a shrug. “I just don’t care.”

“Well, you’re in an unrealistically good mood after the lunch rush,” he sing-songs.

You don’t miss the suspicious lilt in his voice. Your smile is equally sarcastic and sickly sweet as you tell him: “It’s ‘cause my favorite customer is here—”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” he interjects with a curt shake of his head. He sits up straighter and leans his elbows on the white linen cloth of the table like he means business. “Who’s the boy?”

“What— I don’t— What are you— boy?” you sputter with a half-hearted laugh. Your stammering isn’t the least bit convincing.

“It’s a boy, right?” he monotones. “You only get all giddy and gross like this when there’s a boy.”

You hate that he knows you so well. It might’ve been sweet if it wasn’t totally infuriating.

To be fair, you did tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you didn’t want to. When you were falling in love, it poured out of you like sunshine and blinded anyone who dared to look too closely.

Golden rays shoot from your fingertips, shine in the irises of your eyes, and flash from your smile — like the one tugging at the edges of your lips now.

It leaves no room to deny what he already knows: that you’re a stupid girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy because she hasn’t learned from her stupid mistakes.

“Fine,” you concede with your sheepish gaze flitted to the ceiling. “It’s— It’s dumb. It’s a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Hopper nods, like he’s giving you some kind of blessing. “Good for you. It’s about time you moved on from that asshole— what was his name again? Harrington?”

It makes you roll your eyes. You can’t tell if he’s actually confused or if he’s making fun of you. It would be all too like a middle-aged man to make a misogynistic joke about a girl who’s had more partners than years she’s been alive.

“Hargrove,” you correct in a monotone. Your tone is as bitter as thinking about him makes you feel.

“Him, too,” he quips.

There it is.

“It’s not even like that, okay? It’s not like anything,” you try and deflect like you aren’t beaming and trying horribly to hide it. “He… He probably doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Well, it’s about time you got over that boy, is all I’m saying. You deserve a good guy. A boy treats you right, who has actual aspirations in life, and keeps his nose clean—” he rambles as he brings the wine to his mouth to take a drink. He stops himself to ask: “What's his name again?”

You fidget ahead of him, shifting your weight on your feet awkwardly because good guy who stays out of trouble and has actual aspirations in life isn’t how most people would describe the Munson boy. Jim least of all.

He’s got a similar relationship with Eddie to the one he had with you, though there was little room for friendship between the two. It’s just an outlaw making a living on drugs and a chief trying to catch him dealing it.

“Eddie,” you answer and then clear your throat. “Uh, Eddie Munson…”

The life leaves Jim’s eyes.

There’s no amount of wine in Enzo’s cellar that could’ve prepared him for that — or you, for the twenty-minute lecture that followed.

“I have no words,” he’d scolded you like a disappointed parent but proceeded to rant for nearly half an hour after the fact, in true fatherly fashion.

Hopper knows when you’re falling in love. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and blue skies. It’s all so sweet he could gag. But there’s always another side of that coin — a dark, colder, meaner one. 

Because sometimes boys are cruel, sometimes you really are in over your head, and sometimes relationships don’t work out. And when things go bad, they go rotten, and he has to deal with the storm cloud you become after the fact.

Taking care of you becomes his part-time job, and his check-ins become endless as he makes sure you don’t fall back into your old ways — using and getting used.

And truth be told, you don’t have the best track record with men, and Hopper tries to tell you all this, but it doesn’t get through.

Because you have a good feeling about this. About Eddie.

Fuck all the rest.

Today marks your thirteenth meeting with Eddie.

For such an unlucky number, it’s got you squirming from all the butterflies fluttering in your belly with an excitement more innocent than you’re used to. Like standing in the queue for a rollercoaster in a childlike mixture of apprehension and animation, somehow both frightened and enraptured for what’s to come.

And you’re absolutely bouncing with it. Smiling to yourself in the car with the radio turned all the way up and the windows all the way down, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you belt the lyrics to “Super Trouper” with a beam that could make the sunshine cower. 

It’s all completely and utterly perfect until you become suddenly aware of how unearthly happy you are.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks and you shrink into yourself because… maybe you shouldn’t feel this way. The last time you saw Eddie, he came in his jeans and you got off on his thigh — there was never any room for daydreaming and pining and puppy love-ing, not when you so quickly gave yourself away.

The thought of Eddie not nearly being as happy to see you is what hurts the most. How he had you once and now you’re back to just being the customer he sees once a week.

What if he doesn’t give you weed for free anymore? Fuck that — what if you’re not his favorite? 

And maybe it’s just you, maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you should be passed the point of giddy excitement, maybe it’s uncool, maybe you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve and it’s leaving the door open for too much hurt. Maybe Hopper was right.

But you’re happy, at least for right now, and you don’t get the chance to be too often.

Most days, you’re just an accessory — a pretty pebble someone finds on the ground and spends a couple of seconds ogling at before leaving and never thinking about again.

You deserve the chance to be held, don’t you? You should get to be praised and coddled and worshipped like the pretty girls do.

And Eddie makes you feel held. 

So you’ll stick around until he gets bored of you, until you stop being so fun for him. You’ll take the moments of happiness as they’re spoon-fed to you and taste them, really taste them, until you’re starving again. You’ll stay full of this pure puppy love you have for Eddie until it’s time for you to go. 

Because, for now, you’re happy. And isn’t that what matters most?

You don’t know it, but Eddie’s caught in a similar dilemma.

He waits for you at the bench you meet him at every week, like you’ve done for months now, but he’s filled with an unfamiliar gaiety as he anticipates your arrival.

He’s so goddamn excited to see you that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It borders on a slight uneasiness that makes him sick to his stomach.

Eddie never gets nervous around customers. Not once, not ever.

He’s dealt to weirdos who live on the wrong side of the track, preppy douchebags that shove him into lockers at school, and pretty cheerleaders who pretend he doesn’t exist outside of dealing.

He’s seen it all, really. But you’re the one that’s got him bouncing his knee something fierce beneath the table and tapping his fingers against the rotted top of it while his heart races a million miles a minute.

He’s frightened of being too overeager. He’s scared that you’ll come here, all cool and collected about all of it, and he’ll be the freak show acting like a pretty girl’s never given him an ounce of attention before. They haven’t, but he’d rather not project that sort of disposition. Not to you, at least.

He guesses, more than anything, he’s just afraid of scaring you away.

So Eddie tries to keep the smile on his face hidden — not knowing that it’s your favorite part about him. He tries to be as stoic as possible. He wants to be this cool and mysterious and sexy guy he thinks you want, having no idea that you’d already fallen in love with him before he even realized he needed to be those things for you. 

He’s just about able to wash away his grin when he sees you emerge from the woods and into the small clearing where the lone picnic table lives. 

The pinky plaid skirt you wear rustles against your legs with the breeze, the pleated edges brushing against the skin of your thighs. You pair it with a white piece of Beatles merch that clings to your torso — and fuck he hates the Beatles, but you’re the prettiest thing his cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’s beaming at you before he even realizes it. And by the time he does, he doesn’t feel like the idiot he thought he would.

You’re both sporting matching grins, trying to hide them and failing miserably. His is pursed softly to the side and yours is pulled between your teeth.

You look like the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, Eddie thinks to himself. 

His eyes must be the golden of them, you conclude.

When you settle on the bench in front of him, you tuck your skirt neatly beneath you and focus on smoothing out than fabric rather than meet the boy’s gaze. You sport a meek smile and a pair of fidgeting hands that ache to touch him.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly.

He sees your face scrunch in embarrassment at how shy you sound, and the way you almost reach out for his hand but stop yourself just as quickly. He wishes you wouldn’t. He wishes you knew how perfect you were, even when you weren’t totally graceful.

“Hi,” he repeats with a mocking, but no less loving grin, tilting his head towards his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know… overworked and underpaid,” you shrug. “Just the usual.”

You’re grateful for the small talk. It leaves little room for the awkwardness swimming in your belly. He doesn’t immediately mention what happened the last time you saw him, like people often do when they want to do it all over again. But he isn’t in a hurry to give you your weed so you’ll leave him alone either. That's what people usually do when they want nothing to do with you anymore.

It’s almost like it never happened. 

Or rather, like it did, and he isn’t treating it like a spectacle.

It’s refreshing.

“Boss giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, always. I’m pretty sure that’s what he gets paid to do, actually.”

“Right,” he breathes out a laugh.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, just a blink of a second, but it’s noticeable. The sudden quiet floats on the cool breeze that ruffles Eddie’s wild hair and sends a shiver down your spine. 

In a split-second decision, you decide not to deprive yourself of the urge to touch him. Partly to distract from the stillness, but mostly because the ache had reached a fever pitch.

You’re so enthralled by his hands resting upon the old wood — the veins that decorate the back of them like the roots of a tree, the way his fingers thrum to a beat only he can hear, and the rings that wrap around them.

“Is this new?” you wonder aloud. You take his wrist in one hand and trace the glinting silver on his pointer finger with the other. It’s the bony fingers of a skeleton curved to form a heart. He’s taped the sides to make it fit better. It didn’t belong to him before now. 

Eddie watches, pleasantly surprised, as you dote on him. 

Your eyes glitter golden beneath an early setting sun. They dance with amusement as your fingertip traces his heart-shaped ring. He smiles to himself and wonders how often you’re looking at his hands to notice he’s got a new ring on.

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugs. He plays it cool, like his heart isn’t thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest at your touch. “Got it a couple days ago at the thrift store outside of town. It was a whole seventy-five cents.”

“I like it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” he repeats with a scrunched nose and blushing face.

It makes you giggle. “Yeah. You can be cute and badass at the same time, you know?”

“I didn’t know those were mutually exclusive.”

“They weren’t. Not until you came into the world, Eddie Munson.”

He feels cold when you drag your hand away. The kind, almost teasing grin you flash his way warms him all over again. He’s still trying to get used to being so loved on.

You can see the way he gets lost in you for a moment. His cinnamon-tinted gaze, made golden in the sunlight, glazes over as his head gets stranded in the clouds.

The only reason you notice it is because it happens to you. Eddie makes it so terribly easy to float in the deep galaxy of his eyes. Your heart swells to know that it’s happening to him now. Happening to him because he’s looking at you.

You didn’t know you were the kind of girl people could get lost in.

Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, mostly to himself, but enough to jostle the soft curls that frame his face and sit above his eyes.

“Well, I’m honored, sweetheart,” he grins his signature grin, the bright and cocky one, though he’s too shy to make it reach his eyes now. He busies himself and his restless fingers by rifling through the product sitting in the tin box at his side — baggies full of green nuggets and white powdery pills. 

“So, uh, what’s on the menu this week? The usual?”

“I’ve still got my stash from last week,” you confess. “Haven’t really had the time to smoke it yet.”

His eyes flit up to yours again. “…Yeah?” is all he can think to say to you because internally he’s buzzing — you didn’t even need weed, he thinks to himself, you just wanted to see him.

You only shrug. “I’ve just been, like, crazy busy this week.”

Eddie nods understandingly, but can’t help but to joke: “Is that why you haven’t called?”

Because, fuck, if the past couple of days without talking to you haven’t been complete and total agony. He knows it’s a little too brash and brave of him to wonder why you went AWOL when he hasn’t exactly made an effort to seek you out either. 

Not for lack of wanting to, though. He’d like to put that on record.

“Well, I didn’t call because I don’t have your number,” you retort with a smile that toes the line between cunning and timidity. “So, you can’t really blame me for that.”

He huffs dramatically. “Guess not.”

“It’s probably for the best. If I could call you, I’d never leave you alone.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d want you to,” he dismisses your negative talk with ease.

You warm with his words and duck your gaze on instinct. You keep your eyes on your hands while you fidget with your fingers, wishing that they were his instead. “Just don’t want to bother you or whatever, you know?”

“You could never bother me.”

“Promise?” you ask him. Your smile is playful, but your words are sincere.

Eddie’s is much of the same. “Cross my heart.”

“How about this — I give you my number and you just call whenever you’re free,” you offer, more confident at the boy’s admission and glowing with it. “‘Cause, you know, Wayne probably wouldn’t appreciate me clogging up the phone line very much.”

“He wouldn’t notice… Or care,” he tells you and pulls out an old pen from his tin box. His sparkling deep brown eyes stay locked on you as you rise from your side of the bench and round the table to sit next to him.

You’re obviously not as nervous as he’d been at the trailer all those nights ago, when he had to practically be beckoned over to realize you wanted him beside you.

You sit opposite him, with your knees pointed away from the bench. You get to be closer to him this way. Your thigh presses against his as you twist towards him, your chest mere inches from his arm, your mouth even closer.

You write a series of numbers on his forearm that Eddie can’t make out because he’s too busy looking at you. He admires the frown between your brows as you struggle to get the ink to write and the way your lips purse to the side in concentration.

“Wayne would actually be pretty stoked I was talking to a girl—” he jokes with a laugh though he’s quick to cut himself off like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

His admission was supposed to be funny, something the rest of Hellfire would’ve laughed at because they know him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t really want you to. You’ve already got this idea of him in your head. He lives in agony that he won’t be able to live up to it.

He’ll just have to fake it, he concludes. Fake it until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t read into his words too much.

“He wants you to settle down, huh?” you joke back, half-distracted as you doodle a heart onto his skin.

“Wants me to move out, more like.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the bed.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, right. That old geezer’s practically in love with his Laz-E-Boy.”

He watches with glimmering eyes as you laugh. Then he’s smiling because you’re smiling. He isn’t sure how else he’s supposed to look at you. How could anyone possibly look at you and not hold so much love in their eyes?

You haven’t yet let go of his arm, he notices, as you cradle his wrist in your grasp and swipe your thumb over the blotchy blue veins there. Your gaze is pointed down to where you hold him. There’s a distant grin on your face as you admire such a minute piece of him.

He wants so badly to kiss you.

He could. All he’d have to do, really, is move his head a couple inches and he’d brush the apple of your cheek. The skin would warm against his lips until he ducked down to kiss you for real. 

And he feels just bold enough to ask you, but not quite enough to say the words out loud. Instead, they sit impatiently on the edge of his tongue while he waits for the right moment to say them. The wind blows, and it passes.

“It wouldn’t be totally crazy if I kissed you right now, would it?” you ask him first, looking at him through your lashes like you’re scared he might reject you.

He glows pink, momentarily stunned that you beat him to the punch, then worried that you might’ve read his mind. He plays it cool with a shrug and a shake of his head. “No… Not unless it’s totally crazy how bad I want you to kiss me right now.”

You don’t waste any time. You gravitate towards him like you were made to do it and he meets you easily halfway.

When your lips lock, it feels like a routine. Kissing you is like a cup of coffee and the morning paper and a rocking chair on a front porch — something he could do forever and ever and not get bored of.

You kiss him so soft, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with him, but your tongue swipes into his open mouth, and it’s dirty. 

Eddie still isn’t sure how a person could touch him the way you do. You’re all sweet, like you’re frightened you might break him, but you aren’t scared to kiss him like he’s yours.

As good as it feels to have him against you this way, the position you’re in isn’t any less awkward. Your upper-half is still twisted to face him and he has to lean slightly over to touch you completely.

He explores the cavern of your mouth with a more confident tongue than you remember him having while ten ringed fingers press into your ribs. 

Eddie can feel your mouth contort in a smile. He thinks it’s because he’s tickling you, but you’re just in love and totally giddy with it.

The wooden edge of the bench digs into your spine. The ache distracts you from feeling him the way you want to — the way you need to — so you make a split-second decision to rise from your seat and rest your bottom on the table.

Your lips click wetly, almost out of protest, when they part.

You use the palms of your hands to lift you and prop your sneakers on the bench seat when you sit down again. You wait patiently for Eddie to accommodate you, to rise and keep kissing you the way he was just kissing you. 

He does. Eventually.

He just needed a few moments to gather himself when your new position flashes him the faintest glimpse of your panties — all black and dotted with little red hearts that have started to fade with time.

His eyes widen and he everts his gaze immediately. His cheeks and the tip of his nose go red, like he’d been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. It’s sort of stupid. You were getting off on his thigh some days ago, and now you’re kissing him like you mean to swallow him whole, surely you wouldn’t mind him peeking.

If he were someone totally different, he might’ve spread your legs, dug his fingers into the fat of your thighs, and put his mouth on you like he wanted to do three nights ago — like he’s been wanting to do for ages.

But he doesn’t.

He just sits there, for what feels like forever, feeling like a total idiot.

But if you notice his hesitancy, you don’t show it. You just cup his warm cheeks in your hands and drag him up to you. Eddie isn’t enough of a dumbass to reject your affections.

He happily melts into your touch once more while the both of you maneuver like a bunch of lovesick teenagers around the bench — rather than just part momentarily to move more efficiently.

You round the table so you’re propped on the outside of it and Eddie’s no longer confined in the seat. If making out and multitasking was an olympic sport, you and Eddie would take the gold, no doubt.

It’s hopelessly high school, the way you make out like teenagers in some clearing, known only to Eddie’s most loyal customers and a golden orange sky. 

It feels rebellious and raunchy, like you’ve just snuck out of Mr. Kaminsky’s lecture on chemical bonds to fuck under the bleachers. You kiss each other and it feels like you’re doing something so much more than yourselves.

Eddie touches you and you feel like a kid again. Everything’s just new experiences and stomachs full of butterflies — heartache is virtually nonexistent. 

As far as you’re concerned, you’ve never been kissed before now. 

You had no idea someone could hold so much love in their mouth and then kiss you with it. You’re so used to tongue and teeth and spit, not these slow and sweet pecks that feel like white clouds and summer rain.

Every now and then, Eddie will slot his kiss-bitten bottom lip between the plush of your swollen mouth. And he’ll just stay there, for several long moments, just to feel you. His ringed fingers rise to cradle your jaw to keep you against him. His nose knocks against the bridge of yours and his heavy breaths fan against your cupid’s bow.

You’re not sure why he does this, why he chooses to be so soft with you when he knows he could have you however he wants. You’re a kitten purring against his chest now, all pliable and willing for him, but he just likes how still and soft you are like this.

You let him kiss you the way he likes. You notice he takes acute infatuation with your bottom lip, biting softly and pulling at the skin until it’s a plump pink thing for him to suck into his mouth.

Every swipe of his tongue against yours is experimental and methodical. He finds what makes you exhale the heaviest moans and keeps doing that until you’re a puddle of a woman in his hands.

Oh, god. His hands.

It’s almost unfair how kind they are. 

One keeps a steady, warm hold on your cheek. He can feel the way you start to soften as you lean more and more into his touch. The other has fallen to your thigh. His fingertips settle beneath the skirt you picked out specifically for him, but don’t move any further than that.

He just likes the feel of you, it seems, as he pets the softness of your skin. Occasionally, he’ll squeeze and marvel at the feeling of your thigh in his grasp and the way it makes you moan against him. The feeling of his silver rings against you makes chill bumps erupt on your skin.

You’re unsure if he knows the effect he has on you. Surely, he must, you figure — just days ago you were falling apart on his thigh and here you are now, willing to do it all over again. 

He touches you like he knows. Like he takes pleasure in teasing you until you’re all but begging for more. And you’re not the least bit ashamed to do it, either. His touch, his hand down your panties, it isn’t a want — it’s a need.

You take Eddie’s wrist in your impatient hand, moving his palm further and further beneath your skirt until it’s pressed against the dampening cotton of your underwear. “Touch me, Eds,” you plead against his mouth, already breathless.

The boy tenses.

It’s a dream come true in the most literal sense, to feel you like this. You cling to his consciousness wherever he goes. You’ve spent so many nights plaguing his dreams that they’ve started to feel like nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, achingly hard and shuddering with cold sweats at the mere thought that he’d never get to have you the way he always dreamt of having you. 

But it’s here now, lying beneath a heart-patterned cloth, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

He’s not scared of you exactly, just of everything else. 

His hand has never gotten anyone off but himself. He’s scared that he won’t make you feel good, or worse, that he’ll hurt you — he’s scared of himself. He’s terrified of losing you and you’re not even his. 

It’s everything else that frightens him, but not you. Not when you’ve got your legs spread out before him and begging him to touch you. Not when you act like you want to be his.

Rather than deprive himself of the dream of you, Eddie decides to hook his pointer finger around the hem of your panties and slide them to the side.

With your pussy concealed by the pleated skirt you wear, he’s forced to work blindly while he touches you. He doesn’t mind, though. He takes the opportunity to feel you as it’s presented to him on a silver platter — the softness of your lips, the trimmed mound of hair above them, the slick coating your warmed skin.

You feel like silk and velvet. A material that’s far too expensive to touch. It makes him feel like he’s ruining you in some way.

Eddie’s open-mouthed, heavy breaths fan against your lips, all nicotine and mint gum. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him — billowing across your jaw, pressed between your thighs, fingers treating your pussy like it’s a piece of delicate art.

“More,” you beg in a dream-coated sigh and spread yourself further for him. You’ve got one hand twisted in his leather jacket and the other flipping up the skirt of your dress, putting yourself on display for him — a piece of delicate art indeed.

You’re laid out before him, all at once, bare and glistening with need. 

He’s seen plenty of vaginas in his time, usually photographed in a centerfold of a magazine or half-blurry through a botched VHS tape. But, for obvious reasons, you’re quite different. 

You’re beautiful. The kind of beauty that men would’ve fallen on their swords for a time ago, the kind you’re lucky to see in a lifetime. That’s a bit what it feels like to look at you. He looks at you, and he sees a cotton candy sunset over mountains that touch the clouds or clear blue waters that go on for infinity.

Even like this, with your pussy on display for him — in a moment that’s supposed to be dirty — it’s a serene sort of beautiful. You need to be hung up in a museum, Eddie thinks to himself, in the Louvre or some shit — because a freak show from the middle of nowhere shouldn’t get to just have you like this.

He slots his middle finger between your lips, for once not overthinking when the urge to feel you takes over. You soak his appendage with ease, the slick only adding to your softness. He dips down to the dimple of your opening and rises to the peak of your swelling clit. He notices how it makes you twitch against him. 

It feels like being you’re touched for the first time. Unfolded and cherished like some sort of expensive gift. You’re not used to this sort of tenderness. No one’s taken things this slow with you before. The way he’s making you feel good is for him just as much as it is for you. It’s unfamiliarly blissful to be handled with so much care.

Eddie watches with heavy and attentive eyes as your head tips back, like you’re starting to drown in your own pleasure and unbothered to keep yourself afloat. Your contented sighs and gentle tremors spur him forward. Those subtle praises almost equal the pleas that spill from your kissed mouth. 

It makes him stop worrying about how to do all this without being totally obvious that he’s never done any of it before.

Everything he knows, he’s gotten from poorly produced porn. He doesn’t want to treat you like that. Like you’re some toy or plaything or a game to be won. He wants to take things slow and treat you right because it’s becoming more and more obvious to him that no one’s ever done that for you.

He’ll be your first, if you’ll be his.

He finds himself grateful for how responsive you are. He doesn’t need to know everything there is to know about sex or ask you for direction like an idiot because your pussy tells him what to do. 

You tremble every time the pad of his finger swipes against your clit. He can feel you clench around nothing every time he dips towards your opening, as if in a silent plea. You tell him what you like without saying anything, but rather by drenching him in clear-coated honey.

His eyes have trouble flitting away from your pleasure-ridden face and down to where he coaxes you open. His finger glistens with your wetness. Beneath a setting sun, it looks like the sparkling rays over an ocean.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost moaning. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Sorry…” you mutter meekly.

“What?” Eddie finds himself laughing softly, brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden embarrassment. That’s not the response he was expecting. “Why are you apologizing?”

Your skin burns hot at his question — no longer warmed from pleasure, but out of pure self-consciousness. It’s a conversation you’re used to now, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. With his finger still caught in your drenched pussy, you find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze and instead peer at him through your lashes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Some guys think it’s gross… And messy—”

“Screw ‘em,” he blurts. His brown eyes twinkle with a newfound confidence, not one of the unabashed metalhead drug dealer, but one of a boy whose head over heels for a girl who doesn’t know what it means to be truly cared for. “It’s sexy,” he assures you.

A shy smile hints at the corners of your lips, innocently comforted by the promise and pleased by the compliment. “Really?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wholehearted nod. He means it more than anything he’s ever said. “Cross my goddamn heart.”

He leans in to press his lips against yours then, just because it feels right to, and you graciously accept his affection. 

Eddie’s kisses come in innocent, loving pecks that are far too sweet in comparison to the way he’s making you feel. His finger traces the slick gathering at your opening, not having to force his way in because your pussy is more than wanting.

Both of you let out low moans when he’s finally inside of you. He doesn’t stop until the silver of his ring is pressed into the outside of your pussy.

You’re wrapped around him like velvet, warm and tight velvet that won’t let him go. He works hard to find a steady rhythm that you like and watches your every reaction intently.

You’ve got your lip dragged between your teeth, biting so hard that the fragile skin has started to blanch. Your eyes have fluttered slowly shut with a frown forming between your brows in a vague concentration as you focus on your own pleasure.

You seem to like it most when he’s crooking his finger rather than thrusting them inside of you. At least, that’s what he assumes, as he reaches a much softer spot within you that makes you jolt against him.

Your hand darts to his wrist, not to tug him away or pull him any closer, just to tether yourself to him.

“Can you— fuck—” you sputter when the palm of his hand bumps against your clit. “Can you add another finger? Please?”

You’re all whiny and breathy like you’re begging him, like there’s any chance he might deny you. Eddie’s not exactly in the business of saying no to you. 

He slides his ring finger in with his middle. He marvels at how snugly they fit inside you and how the sticky nectar coats his skin. Your wetness has gathered around his silver rings, including the one with the skeleton hand you were complimenting earlier.

He doesn’t ever want to wash them again... Not that he ever did in the first place, but he makes a vow not to start now.

Eddie doesn’t know it, but this is the part where you usually get embarrassed. Sometimes you think you’re too sensitive, too responsive. You’ve found that there’s a threshold between being sexy and being needy that most guys tend to enjoy. But, for you, it's a finicky thing and you find yourself crossing it before you realize it.

You moan too loud, talk too much, whine too often. Nearly everyone you’ve ever been with has said so in some way or another — mostly in gentle approaches that are observations more than anything. But some boys aren’t so nice. They say that you get too turned on, the wetness coating your pussy is evidence of that, and they tell you that’s it’s gross.

But here, now, with Eddie, there’s little room for embarrassment.

He tells you that you’re pretty, swears up and down that the way your slick trickles down his fingers is sexy. And for the first time in your life, you find yourself actually believing someone who tells you that.

You let him pry you open with slow and meticulous touches. You can feel his bent fingers deep inside you, exploring the slick velvet of your walls, and rubbing at the spot that makes you keen. It’s got your back arching and thighs trembling by his waist, toes curling inside your sneakers while you keep a tight grip on his wrist.

“Rub my clit, Eds,” you plead breathlessly with your eyes shut tight. You’re about to come, you can feel the tightening coil in the pit of your belly, you just need a little bit more. “Please, Eddie— please, touch my clit—”

He’s hasty in his attempts to comply to your request. He barely lets the words leave your mouth before he presses the pad of his thumb just above the hood of your clit. And it doesn’t feel bad per se, it actually feels pretty damn good, it’s just not where you need him most.

It’s not the first time a guy’s had trouble finding your clit and you figure it won’t be the last, so you opt guide him with a helping hand. You maneuver his thumb until it’s pressed snuggly against your swollen button. 

Eddie watches attentively as it makes you whine. You arch your back, pressing yourself further against him, as a moan rises from the depths of your chest and spills out of your mouth. You pull him somehow closer by the lapel of his jacket. 

He takes every unspoken criticism to heart, along with every one of your wordless praises. His acute attention to what you like the most — how his thumb on your clit makes you clench around him, how you moan every time he rubs against that foreign spongy spot inside of you, and how he keeps on doing that because he can tell that you like it — sends you to an otherworldly place pleasure.

It’s different from guys that are just good from experience. Most do the same old shit that gets their girl off because they know they’ll get off in the end, too.

Eddie’s attentiveness is unfamiliar and spellbinding, all-consuming and unavoidable. A pleasure you’re both chasing and wanting to run away from out of fear it might be too much.

“Is this okay?” he whispers to you, breath fanning across your cheek.

You nod wordlessly in reply, with your lip caught between your teeth as you fight to bite back the cry building in your throat. It’s hard to when he’s so intently hitting every spot that makes you dizzy. The moan that inevitably spills from your mouth sounds wet, like you might really start to cry.

“Fuck,” you wail when your stomach tenses. His fingers, deep in the confines of your pussy and rubbing at your clit, are relentless. Pleasure’s biting at your ankles now and you have no way to stop it from swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Eds—”

Your mouth hangs open as you drop your head down to watch him work you open.

His ringed fingers are coated with you, a sheen of honey that drips down his fingers and onto the silver wrapped around them. You’re hopelessly spread open for him, your pussy blooming like a flower at the promise of springtime for the boy, and then tightening around him to keep him trapped inside you.

It’s dirty, like a lewd piece of art that you can’t help but gawk out.

You fight to keep your heavy eyes open. You want to watch what he’s doing to you, but it’s a harder feat than you could’ve ever imagined. Pleasure rises so violently in you. You’re frightened you might burst entirely.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper. It’s a warning to you but for him, it’s a promise. Your head tilts back again, face scrunched in a gentle sort of horror, like you’re scared at how good you feel. “Please don’t stop. Oh my god, Eds— Please don’t stop. Please, please, please—”

Eddie presses a gentle kiss to the buzzing skin of your cheek. He whispers his slurred promises there, too. “I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not gonna stop until you want me to, ‘kay? Not until you’re pushing me away. Wanna make you come so many times you can’t take it—”

You clenched around him at his words. His fingers, trapped in your velvet, struggle to move within you as you tighten. The thumb on your clit works you through your orgasm.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan while your hand grips his wrist something fierce. Pleasure builds and builds and builds, striking you like lightning so suddenly, and reducing you to a shuddering mess on the picnic table in front of him.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers in your ear through his own trembling breaths. “Yeah, keep going for me— keep coming.”

You comply.

You don’t have much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

Your orgasm runs over you like a dozen fucking freight trains. You’re caught in your own riptide of pleasure, drowning in it with no way of getting out. With no choice but to endure it, you whine and writhe against him while his hand stays trapped between your trembling thighs. It forces you to feel all of it until you can’t take it anymore. Just like he promised.

The pleasure passes. The vice-like grip your pussy had on his fingers lessens. The high fades. But Eddie keeps going. You don’t feel much of it at first, still pleasantly numb and buzzing, then you realize how sensitive you are.

He crooks his fingers faster, rubbing against the swollen spot inside you, while the pad of his thumb presses steadily against your clit.

You’re sloppy and wet and still gushing from the fading orgasm. A second one wouldn’t be too hard to reach, not with Eddie touching you the way he is just now, but you’re scared that it might be too much.

The I can barely see, we need to lay down a towel, hold me while I float into subspace sort of too much.

“Mm-mm,” you hum softly in protest, twitching against him while you squeeze his wrist. You feel his fingers still within you.

A lazy smile plays on your lips as you tilt your face towards an orange sun, all fucked out and beautiful. Eddie could stare at you for ages and find something new to love.

“No more. I need… Need a break.”

You shudder when his fingers drag slowly out of you, trying hard not to jostle you too much. The pads of them have started to prune slightly. His ring and middle finger stick together with a mixture of your come, he separates them to watch your honey stretch and break apart. 

He doesn’t know what to do with them. If he should wipe them on his jeans, or if that would be too barbaric of him. If he should stick them in his mouth to finally get a taste of you, or if you might think that’s too much.

You beat him to the punch, just like you always do, as you grab him by the wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes are still half-closed as you run your tongue over his skin, sucking at them like they were his cock — god, he wishes it were his cock.

He watches you with his own heavy gaze and an agape plump pink mouth, stunned at how you could do something so sexy without thinking. He has no idea how you manage to find ways to become more beautiful just when he thinks you’ve run out.

When you pull off of him, you do it all slow, like you’re teasing him. A soft, wet pop sounds when your lips leave his fingers. You smile like a fucking minx at him when you do.

“Was that— Was that good for you?” Eddie asks you with a nervous, doe-eyed chocolate button gaze. You’re unsure how he could make you feel so good and then worry that it still wasn’t enough.

“It was perfect, Eds,” you promise, then joke: “If you don’t believe me… believe the wet spot you made me leave on this fucking table.”

It makes both of you laugh like a pair of lovesick idiots. 

Your hands rise to his jaws, fingers getting lost in his wild curls as you drag him to you again.

He keeps a pair of steady hands on your hips as you lick hungrily into his mouth, kissing him like you haven’t gotten tired of kissing him yet. And when you part, you leave one, two, three more pecks against his lips.

“So… This is what you came out here for, huh?” Eddie jokes with his signature stupid grin that you want to kiss all over again. “You didn’t even want the weed, you just wanted to use me. I’m wounded, sweetheart. Truly.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Came out here to see you… This part was just a bonus.”

He happily accepts the kiss you give him, though he tenses against you when your hands travel from his jaw and to his chest, trickling down his torso like drops of rain until they rest on his belt. 

“Something tells me you don’t mind either way,” you murmur against him when your palm settles against his hard cock trapped in his tight jeans.

He can hardly hear you, though, too trapped in his own head. 

He can’t fuck you out here, not like this.

Maybe it’s too stereotypical for a virgin, but he wants his first time with you to be on a real bed and not some bench that threatens you with splinters. He wants to wine and dine you, and treat you right like he’s supposed to, not fuck you in the middle of nowhere like you’re a plaything he can do whatever he wants with.

But he doesn’t know how to tell you all this, so he parts from you with a wet click and shakes his head. “You don’t— You don’t have to—”

“I want to, Eds,” you assure him. “I promise.”

“I can’t… I mean, I guess, I’m not really…” he stammers out. He has no idea what to say to you, totally at a loss of how to turn you down. The way you clutch his covered dick, make his toes curl in his sneakers and his brain go all stupid, doesn’t exactly help either.

“What?” you tease with a light-hearted chuckle as you squeeze his rock-solid cock through the denim. “Not really hard?”

“No, it’s just…” he breathes out a laugh, or rather tries to.

He watches with wide and frightened eyes as you work at his belt buckle, struggling to unfasten it without his assistance. There’s a tug-of-war playing in his brain right now, because he wants you — he wants you so bad — but not like this.

Not when he hasn’t been completely honest with you.

It’s not fair to either of you. 

Least of all when he has to turn you away without explaining why.

“I don’t think we— we really shouldn’t,” he tries to let you down easy, but to you it just sounds like he’s being coy, playing with you so you’ll beg to suck his cock. And you keep on going because you’re not totally above that. “No, really. I can’t— seriously, stop. We need to stop.”

The sudden firmness in his voice makes you still. Eddie’s never talked to you like that before. The stern, foreign words he spits at you tells you that he’s serious.

You jerk away from him like he’s burned you.

Embarrassment sets fire to your face.

“Sorry. I just— I thought that— I just wanted to return the favor,” you stammer out in an apology, frightened you’ve crossed a line with him.

No one’s ever turned down a blowjob from you before. Most times, that’s all guys want.

“No, yeah, I know,” Eddie nods understandingly when he sees how you’ve started to shrink into yourself. He steps back from you and tucks his belt back through the loop of his jeans “I just… I— I have more customers coming… And everything, so…”

“Right.”

“Yeah. And I don’t really, you know— I don’t want them to see…” he trails off with a shrug because that’s easier than saying, I don’t want them to see you sucking my dick. No one deserves to see you like that. That’s for my eyes only.

It would’ve been something short of a compliment had he said it out loud. You would’ve blushed with a shy, cheeky smile — “For your eyes only, huh?” you would’ve teased like you weren’t enlightened by the prospect of belonging to him and him only.

But because he doesn’t say that, you take on a whole other meaning to his words. I don’t want them to see me with the town whore, you can imagine him thinking. I might be the freak, but being associated with the slut would be a whole new low. 

Maybe it’s irrational thinking, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to you. The fear has turned into a full-blown phobia.

You’ve made a boogeyman out of the clothes in your closet because you’re so frightened of him leaving you. And he doesn’t even fucking belong to you.

“Right,” you echo with a nod. “Okay.”

You find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze as you slip off the bench, sliding your panties back into place before pulling your skirt down again.

You’re so deep in your own head, wallowing in your woe, that when Eddie leans down to kiss you, you jerk away from on instinct. Like your body’s telling you not to play with fire, something that’s destined to burn you.

Because Eddie can’t ever belong to you. In some ways, you can’t really belong to him either, not when you’ve belonged to half of Hawkins.

But your wordless rejection sends a shock to his heart, a bolt of blue that pierces the beating organ. Your denial feels like heartbreak and you can see the anguish coat his features. He looks at you look a wounded puppy, glassy eyes going wide and thick brows frowning softly as he wonders what he did so wrong.

You kiss him anyway, if only to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong — that it’s all you and your stupid brain that won’t let you enjoy a good thing while you’ve got it. It’s the briefest little peck, a brush of your lips against his, and it has his mouth tingling anyway.

“I’ll call you later?” he says to you, though it comes out as more of a question than he intended it to.

You shrug with pursed lips, then try your best to smile. “Whatever you want.”

Eddie watches you walk away and feels like an idiot to let you go. 

He can tell that he’s upset you. You’ve had too many shitty experiences with guys not to be weary of another, and he knows that.

But he also knows he’s a total fucking coward — he’s always ran away from things, never towards something. Because that shit? — That shit was fucking scary, even for a so-called devil-worshipping freak.

But he finds himself hurrying towards you anyway.

His raggedy sneakers practically float on air as something short of muscle memory carries him towards you before you can get too far away.

And when he reaches you, he takes you by the arm, spins you and pulls you towards him. You barely get the chance to blink before he presses his mouth against yours.

He cradles you by the neck, resting large palms on either side of it, as he slots his lips against yours. And he does that thing where he just rests his kiss there, just feels you. 

Eddie notices when you relax against him. You sigh against his cupid’s bow, your hands fall to his waist, and you melt totally into him. Your lips untangle slowly and tingle when he parts from you. You know you’ll be feeling him there all night… there and everywhere else.

“I’m gonna call you later,” he tells you, voice confident and unwavering.

He hopes you understand what he really means by them — whatever you want, you’d said when you saw how unsure he was. And now he’s telling you what he wants, not to make some stupid phone call, but that he wants you.

He can tell you get the hint when you smile at him. It looks like the pinky-orange sunset that bathes you in warm-colored hues. 

You nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

[ghouljams]

Can we get uhhhh

Faekonig reacting to liebling dropping the mask being tender or genuinely affectionate after a moment of anxious vulnerability for the first time around him, maybe something from trying to figure out how to manage the store has her break down a little?

The first time Liebling dropped her mask around König? Yeah it would have to be something related to the store or her personal life.

Tw: for a full on panic attack, also squint and you miss it abandonment issues, + shitty exes

You can feel the edges of an anxiety attack creeping in. Your stomach hurts, nausea rolling through you hard enough to make you wonder if your spontaneously caught a stomach bug. You check your phone, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to bruise. Your fingers hover over your keyboard. You type and delete, type and delete. Set your phone down and rock on your heels as you lean against the counter.

It's suddenly too bright and too loud in the shop. You can feel your bones. You can feel your clothes rub against your skin like sand paper. You can feel your heart squeeze painfully behind your rapidly constricting ribs. You check your phone again, look at the time. Not even a minute since you last checked it. You open your phone again, sure you'll type something this time. Text your ex and ask them to fucking stop.

Your fingers- your hands shake, your screen unreadable behind the static buzzing in front of your eyes. You can't breathe. You want to curl up in a ball in a dark corner, and also you want to run, and also you sort of feel like you're actually dying? You set your phone face down on the counter and push the door open to the back of the shop as quickly as you can manage.

You can feel the eyes of your fae customers follow you. Monsters ready to pounce at the slightest sign of weakness. Probably aiming to eat you alive, bones and all. Your whole shop will probably be burgled while you're stuffing yourself into a corner behind one of the inventory shelves in the back. Then you'll be broke and dead. Your two least favorite things to be. At least back here no one can see you pull your knees to your chest and cry.

You heave in a breath, shuddering before your whole chest hiccups on a sob and suddenly the waterworks are flowing. God, everything is so bad. Your shop is overrun with monsters, your friends don't want to hang out with you anymore because you see monsters everywhere you turn, your ex is talking about your nudes on Twitter, you own a whole ass store that you don't want and taxes are so complicated!! You sob into your hands, trying to feel less like your skeleton is trying to shake its way out of your skin, like your heart has completely stopped beating. Hell, you barely can breath enough to sob with how tight your chest is.

There's a soft click as the door to the shop latches, you don't hear it over your absolute despair. You do hear the soft rustle of fabric as König sits down next to you. Feel his hands as they grip your shoulders and pull you out of your fetal position to rest against his chest. He curls around you like a huge protective teddybear, arms and legs bracketing you(small and safe and warm) with his lips pressed to the top of your head. You don't know if he pumps you full of his warm calming magic or if it's the way your ear presses against his chest but his heartbeat fills your perception. Steady, even, slow and calm.

"It's alright Schatz, I have you," he murmurs into your hair. You grip his shirt and press closer, curl up into your ball again and let him squeeze you tight. He keeps repeating it, that you're safe, you're alright, he's here and won't let you go. Everything you've always hated to be told, everything you've never believed. König doesn't lie, can't lie. You think that's why his voice settles you so well.

You hate crying in front of people, hate feeling so powerless, so worthless, around other people. So, why are you letting König comfort you?

He smells good, like dirt and crisp autumn air, like dead leaves and rain. You press your nose against him and breathe. You don't know why it's OK for König to be here, maybe it's because he seems to actually care for you, maybe it's because you can't string together a thought long enough to tell him to leave, but he's helping. You stay like this for a while, wrapped up in König's arms, breathing in his scent, listening to his heartbeat. Just until you don't feel like you're dying.

"Don't tell anyone I cried," you mumble, trying not to wipe your nose on his shirt, probably your least favorite part of crying.

"Your heart rate was too elevated for just tears," he tells you evenly, smart-ass.

"Don't tell anyone that either." You take a quiet moment for yourself, fingers toying with a loose string on König's shirt. "Can we stay like this for a while?" You almost hope he doesn't hear you, pathetic. König nods, you can the way it moves your head a little as well.

"As long as you need Liebling, any time you need. I won't let anything hurt you." Big promises, you think, ignoring the weight it settles in your chest.

[sturniolo-rat]

Chapter 1: Cherry Contact

A/N: If this flops, I’m going to cry😢 In loving memory of @newsourceofnonsense, she's not dead; I just like the memory of her.

Contains: smut, oral, fingering , exhibitionism, plot

TW: tell me if you find any

Chris and Y/N are two walking commitment issues that enter into a mutually assured attachment.

Everyone thinks Y/N is a book hoarder, but she considers herself more of a book collector. She has over 700 books that take up damn near her whole apartment. The collection consists primarily of special and first-edition books. It’s probably worth around $50,000, but she doesn’t care because she plans on keeping them forever. To fund her obsession, she works as a waitress at a restaurant that just opened up called “The Copper Kitchen.” her best friend, Dorset, is a freckle-faced white girl with short brown hair, green eyes, and circle glasses. She also happens to be a bartender at “The Copper Kitchen.” Currently, Y/N is outside of her apartment waiting for Dorset so they can carpool to work. When Dorset pulls up in her shitty car, Y/N is ecstatic because she has big news to share. 

“Dot, I’ve done it!” she says as she hops into the passenger seat. 

“Wh- what have you done?” She’s very concerned that Y/N has done something crazy. It wouldn’t be the first time. The last time something like this happened, she told Dorset that she got her ex’s name tattooed on her left ass cheek.

“I’ve decided to have sex with men again!”

Dorset is relieved. “OMG! Yes! We can finally fight over men again!” They laugh as she merges back onto the road to begin the short trip to work.

“Yep, I’m meeting a guy at the restaurant after my shift,” Y/N says proudly. She's been off men since her break up three years ago, and this new guy is the first not to give her the ick within the first week of talking. She knows meeting up doesn’t automatically mean sex, but she hasn’t had dick in 3 years and feels that she owes it to herself to fuck this man. It’s not like she’s interested in anything else from him. Romance is strictly off the table for her. She prefers to stick to smutty romance books and shitty Tumblr fanfics of perfectly romanticized versions of men. 

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about your little hookup.” They part as they head to their respective jobs at the restaurant—time to deal with shitty customers who tip like assholes. 

Twenty minutes before the end of her shift, the most obnoxious kids walk in. They’re not actually kids; they're about 20, but Y/N considers anyone under 22 a kid, and these guys seem incredibly immature.

“Hey guys!” Says Nick, holding up the camera. “Welcome to today’s Friday vlog where we will be…”

Matt takes the camera, “trying the food at…” 

Chris gets into the shot and yells, “The Copper Kitchen!”

Nick hits Chris in the head “Don’t yell in my fucking ear!” 

“Don’t hit me, Dickface!” Chris hits him back while Matt holds the camera and laughs to the side.

The Y/N comes up and loudly asks, “Is this your whole party?” She gives them a disapproving look. 

Matt is the first to speak, “Yes, ma’am, it’s just the three of us today.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” said Nick and Chris in unison. Chris is noticeably more embarrassed than Nick is. He’s absolutely mortified to be seen acting like a child in front of such a beautiful woman.

“Thank you. Let me show you to your table.” She picks up three menus before walking them to their seats. Only when they’re all sitting and looking up at her does she realize that the three boys are triplets. “Can I start you off with something to drink?” 

She points to Matt. “Root beer, thanks.”

She points to Nick. “Water, if you don’t mind.”

She points to Chris. “What’s the best virgin mixed drink you guys have?”

“I’m not sure, but you can never go wrong with a Shirley Temple. Do you want me to go ask the bartender?” She would love to tell Dorset about the sexy triplets that just stumbled in.

“Nope, we’re all good. I’ll take a Shirley Temple and a Pepsi.”

“Great. I’ll be back in a few with your drinks.” 

Y/N practically runs to Dorset. Chris can’t help but watch her ass as she walks to the bar to order his drink. When she returns a few minutes later, she hands Chris his drinks last.

“Thank you for the Pepsi, but this…” he lifts the mixed drink and hands it to her. “is for you, miss…” he pauses to look at her name tag. “Y/N. It’s an apology for making a scene in your restaurant.”  Nick and Matt are in shock over how forward he’s being. Chris has never really flirted in front of them before. It’s kind of weird, but they can see why he has so many girls in and out of his room. 

“Well, thank you…”

“Chris.” he interrupts. “Please, call me Chris.” he gives Y/N a charming smile.

“Thank you very much, Chris. However, my shift is over, and Michelle will serve you for the rest of the night.” 

“I’m sorry to see you go, miss Y/N, but I hope you have a good day.”

“Will do, Chris,” says Y/N before she walks away to sit across the room at the bar. She talks to Dorset about her date tonight while she waits for him. His name is Theo. He’s blonde with deep brown eyes, and from what Y/N can tell from sexting, he’s so fucking good at dirty talk. Unfortunately, he is 30 minutes late to meet her. 

Chris has been relatively quiet for today’s video. He’s been distracted watching Y/N enjoy his drink and seeing her smile and laugh with her friend. She looks somewhat distressed now, and Chris can't help but think he’s found his opening. He makes the boys wrap up the video and leaves to get Y/N’s number. 

He turns on his charm and sits on the stool next to her. “What’s got you so worried, miss Y/N.”

“Pretty sure I’m being stood up. I’m also pretty sure people under 21 can’t sit at the bar.”

“Who says I’m not 21? Maybe I’m here to buy you another drink.” 

Y/N cocks her eyebrow as she calls her friend over. “Order me something then.”

Chris tries to think his way out of this. “Listen, you guys are friends, right? She’s just been stood up, and a handsome young man would like to buy your friend a drink. I’m sure if you just forget to card me this one time and let me buy her a Shirley Temple with vodka and extra cherries, it would make her night ten times better.”

“My hands are tied, Y/N. You’re my weakness.” she looks to Chris. “Dirty Shirley coming right up.”

“You’re fuckin’ smooth, aren’t you?” asks Y/N. 

Much more confident than he was moments before Chris responds, “Yes, ma’am, I am. Now tell me all about the bad man who hurt you.”

“I’m not really hurt,” she replies, but Chris can tell she’s hiding something. 

“No?” he questions.

Dorset comes with her drink, and Y/N takes a nervous sip. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course you can, Miss Y/N.”

“I’m not hurt. I was just really horny, and I got my nails done for this date, and not I can’t even touch myself at home because my nails are so sharp,” she says, completely embarrassed. She doesn’t make eye contact with him and focuses intensely on eating her maraschino cherries. 

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but…” he leans in, whispering in Y/N’s ear, “ I think I can help you with that.” She doesn’t miss a beat. She takes his hand and drags him to the large family bathroom. Dorset claps and cheers them on openly as they make their way. Y/N makes a mental note to get her back somehow later. 

She palms him through his pants, and Chris grabs her face, pulling her into a rough, hurried kiss. “Oh, fuck. You taste like cherries.” he hikes up her uniform skirt and rubs her over her panties. 

“You have yourself to thank for that.” 

He spins her around so he can watch her face in the mirror as he touches her. “You’re also soaked. Do I have myself to thank for that, too?” before she can say anything, Chris’s finger is spreading her lips apart and playing at her entrance. 

She closes her legs in response. “Nope, not so fast. You gotta eat it first.”

Chris sinks to his knees. “Yes, ma’am.” he wastes no time. He spreads her thighs apart, slides her panties to her knees, and starts lapping at her clit from behind. He’s got to be quick because his brothers are waiting for him. 

She bends over the sink, propping herself up on her forearms. “Oh, fuck!” she groans. 

“Hush, Cherry. Don’t want to get fired for fucking on the job, do we?.” The vibrations from his laugh makes Y/N’s pussy shiver causing her to wiggle a little. Chris loves watching her ass jiggle. “Has anyone ever eaten your ass?” he parts her cheeks and gives her a playful spank. “You have such a cute little asshole. Do you mind if I try?” 

“Yeah, you can try,” she says sheepishly, hiding her face from the mirror. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget to give your clit some attention.” 

“Oh, yes! Just like that!” Y/N cries out louder than she means to as his tongue explores her ass. He rubs her clit with the pad of his finger, and she lets out a breathy moan. Chris is hard as a fucking rock, and she’s making such pretty sounds. It’s torture not to touch himself, but he came here to help her out and needs to focus on making her cum. 

“Yeah. Tell me how you like it.” 

“Fingers, please,” she begs. 

“Tell me how many you need, Cherry?”

“Two. Just two, please.” Y/N takes his fingers inside of her with ease. He searches for a moment to find that special spot of hers. “Right there!” 

Chris is so happy with how open she’s been to him. The girls he’s been with recently have been so meek. She’s such a good girl telling him just where she needs him. He works his fingers into her faster, making sure to hit her G spot every time. Y/N starts pushing herself back on his fingers. Chris feels her pussy begin to tighten like a vice around him. “You’re such a good fucking girl. Cum for me, Cherry. Cum on my fingers.” her legs giveaway as her climax burns through her, and Chris has to hold her up as he tries to work her through it. 

When her orgasm subsides and her vision comes back, Chris is on the floor holding her. She rests her head on his chest and says, “Thank you. That was fucking amazing.”

“Anytime, Cherry. I don’t expect any reciprocation today, but I feel I am owed your phone number.” He hands her his phone, and the new contact is already open. 

“Of course, here’s my number, Chris.” she hands the phone back to him, gets back onto her feet, and pulls her panties up. She leaves without saying goodbye. Chris looks down at his phone and smiles at her contact name. “Y/N🍒 (Sexy Waitress)”

Masterlist

Taglist

@rafecameronsbitch @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mrsmiagreer @lovergirl4387 @gdsvhtwa @ashley9282828 @j-worlds-blog @stephanieienwf @achrisgirly @draculaura123 @abbypost @Cind2224 @crazychrisl0v3r @ryli3sworld @bkwrld @pinkishpearls @pepsienthusiasts @stunza @chrattstromboli @sturnssmuts @angelic-sturniolos111 @69isabella69 @maryx2xx @sturniolo04 @bigbeefybitch @klaus223492 @r93339 @sturnzsblog @spotconlon55 @robins-scoop @junovrsmp4 @sturnlover4eva @blahbel668 @lilahnowheretobefound @luxy-nyx @tuffsturns @m0r94n @sturnstvs

[leonsleftbicep]

sleep token bakery au?

IV runs a bakery (for obvious reasons) Vessel, II, and III are all customers, the echos/esperas work there as well.

Vessel, II, and III all know each other. the Echos know the three as usuals. IV doesn’t know who they are really.

II was captivated by IV’s ivy tattoo on his forearm, Vessel was enamored by IV’s downturned eyes, and III.. well it was IV’s “bakery”.

obviously polyvessels ensues in some way. my brains saying II was the first to notice, but III was the first to get close.

as in

II started to hint a bit to IV about his attraction. but in a very “how the fuck do i tell this man he is gorgeous and i want to wake up next to him each morning” type of way.

II just simply said “i like your tattoos, how long have you had the ivy?” but then he connected the dots at that moment when he read IV’s name tag which said ‘IVy’.

also i think it would be funny and kinda cute if IV realized his attraction, when II walked into the bakery in a very wide V-neck long sleeve (his neck tattoo is ON DISPLAY!!) with the sleeves rolled up. II’s hair up, very much just got a hair cut and actually shaved and trimmed for once. i just think it’s silly.

III is the one that asked IV out first because they were completely enamored by this ‘Ivy’ guy their partners wont stop blabbering about, and the two of them weren’t doing shit so. III asked out IV on a date to some shitty bar with a band playing that night. the two of them got a bit tipsy and danced together. III ended up in IV’s apartment that night.

Vessel was the last to catch on, too nervous to actually ask so it just waited a couple months till IV handed them a scone and just smiled and asked “want to help me in the kitchen some time? we usually prepare the sour dough the night before so, if you want to it will just be me and you” with a smile.

the two of them actually got work done, IV was absolutely delighted with the facts he was getting out of Vess. first thing IV asked Vessel was if they where a musician of some kind, “only reason i ask is because you hum and tap your fingers to the music that plays around here.” which was the half truth. the other reason why IV asked, was because he noticed the callouses on Vessels finger tips.

with IV and Vessels mutual love for music, they hit it off pretty well.

after all three of them have now built a relationship with IV. IV just finally kinda connected the dots after watching how the three interact with each other. “are you guys a throuple?” is what iv asked when II grabbed their orders. “well we don’t put a name to it.. but i guess you could call it that?” is all II could say

ivy just blushed as he realized he had a chance to be with all of them. after talking to the Echos extensively while they all clean. the girls just decide to become IV’s wing man.

…

protag ivy my love

enjoy this shit, you never know i might make this a full fledged thing.

[shaunamilfman]

forever is the sweetest con

Summary: "You know you should be angry when your girlfriend mentions that she kind of wishes your best friend was also here on your date. But if you're honest with yourself, which you rarely are, you kind of wish she was too. Things have been different with Nat in the last year since you and Lottie got together; Just how different, is the question."

A/N: Lottienat x reader! Cowboy Like Me part 2. You don't strictly need to have read Cowboy Like Me to read this, as long as you know that Lottie is your girlfriend and Nat is your best friend.

“God, Nat. It's only 2 PM,” You say teasingly as you slide onto the barstool across from her. “Already hitting the bar?”

“Already hitting the bar?” Nat mocks in a high-pitched voice as she rolls her eyes, but you can see just a hint of a smile appear as she looks up from the glass she's cleaning. 

You prop your head up on your hand as you set your backpack on the seat next to yours. “Busy day?” You ask. 

Nat gives you a crooked grin as she shakes her head. “Mmm, no. But we had–” 

“Always taking up seats from paying customers, ” Your boss Paul complains as he walks in from the back. You make a show of looking at him and slowly looking around the empty bar, a few regulars strewn about drinking in silence and a man dressed in a suit passed out on the other end, before looking back at him. He grumbles in irritation before adding to Nat, “If you're gonna sit here and talk on my money she better order something.”

Nat holds her hands up placatingly before giving you a questioning look. You hum thoughtfully as you look at her before asking, “Can I get some water?” Nat snickers quietly as Paul storms off to the back. She hands you the glass before walking off to wake the drunk businessman up. 

You sit at the bar doing coursework for the next few hours, making sure to pointedly take a sip from your water every time Paul walks out to glare at you. He storms out at 5:59 PM with a smug look on his face, certain he's going to be able to tell you off for it, only to see you smiling innocently as you pour a drink with your backpack hidden behind the bar.

Bartending wasn’t ever something you saw yourself doing, especially working for a man like Paul at his shitty dive bar, but you can’t deny how much you enjoy doing it. Admittedly, that could be because you're working with your best friend. You’d think now that you’re living together you’d be sick of seeing her all the time, but honestly, you think you might be seeing her less than ever. Between Nat working full time and your course load, you barely saw her until you decided to start picking up shifts.

Your girlfriend Lottie stopped by almost as often as you did, happy to sit at the bar when your shifts overlapped to monopolize both of your time. You couldn’t deny her efficiency. You think it might be the only reason that Paul puts up with you doing homework at the bar, as your girlfriend throws enough free money at him when she’s here that he tolerates your presence in order to keep her coming. It certainly wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, as you all agreed he didn’t have one.

Lottie was initially less than pleased with the change. She knew you were going to have to get a job, but she found the hours you were working to be rather irritating. She'd had some… rather convincing arguments about why you should get a retail job instead, but you managed to hold strong on that particular decision. It had grown on her after a while as she rather enjoyed the sight of you in a black button-up. Besides, she'd missed Nat too and seemed oddly excited to see her as well. 

It has surprised you how much Lottie grew to love Nat, but you certainly weren't going to complain. You'd worried a lot about Lottie and Nat not getting along once the nature of your relationship with Lottie changed, but all of your worry was for naught. In fact, they seemed to enjoy ganging up on you together almost as much as they enjoyed hanging out with you. Overall you were pretty pleased with the situation, even if Lottie had started abandoning some of your study sessions when she got bored to go hang out with Nat instead. You never could get Lottie to focus on any one thing for too long at a time. 

Besides, it made you feel a lot better knowing that Nat wasn’t walking home that late by herself all the time when you weren't working– you didn’t exactly live on the best side of town. Your girlfriend offered to let both of you move into the large two-bedroom apartment her father is renting for her, why he thinks she’ll need that much space you’ll never know, but Nat full out refused to accept it. You of course would never leave Nat to have to move in with some random ass roommate who would more than likely murder her as she didn’t exactly make an imposing figure.

…

Still, as you curl up next to Lottie in the one bed you brought from home with the temperature as high as you can afford to keep it you curse both Nat’s pride and your loyalty. Nat clears her throat awkwardly and you peer over Lottie’s shoulder to look at her. “I can go sleep on the floor–” Nat starts.

“No,” You and Lottie say in unison, rolling your eyes at Nat. Nat grumbles quietly as she buries her head in her pillow, seeming a little uncomfortable on the other side of the bed. Now that you've gotten a good look at her you notice how cold she looks. 

You and Nat had gotten used to cuddling together for warmth since you’d moved in, and you’re nearly kicking yourself for forgetting about her. You think guiltily of all the times she must have shivered across from you while Lottie was staying over.

“You're shivering,” You accuse, shifting up on your elbow to get a better look at her. Lottie makes a displeased noise as you pull away, her eyes blinking open as just the hint of a pout graces her face. “Come here,” You say, moving the arm wrapped around Lottie's back to tug at Nat's arm. 

“I'm good here,” Nat says. 

“Nat,” You groan. “You're obviously cold, just come here.”

“I'm not even cold,” Nat lies, badly. If it wasn't so dark you'd be able to see the blush spreading across her face at the idea of cuddling up to the two of you 

“Don't be a baby,” You mutter, tugging at her arm again.

Nat scoffs. “I am not being a baby,” She defends immediately as her head snaps up from her pillow. 

“That's what someone who's being a baby would say,” Lottie says wryly. 

Nat sputters for a response before groaning in irritation. You can faintly hear the sounds of her cursing both of you out under her breath as she scoots closer. You bury your head back into Lottie's shoulder, the tips of your fingers brushing against Nat's body as you wrap your arm back around Lottie. Lottie makes a contented noise as she's pressed between your body and Nat's side

It's quiet for a long moment before you add, “Now, was that so hard?”

You hiss in pain at the pinch that gets you from Nat, grumbling quietly as she snickers.  “You never quit while you're ahead,” Lottie murmurs against your ear. 

“Mm. No,” Nat agrees, the smile evident in her voice. 

“Fuck both of you,” You mutter. 

“Fuck both of you,” Nat and Lottie both mock, just a second out of sync. Nat immediately starts cracking up, and you can feel Lottie shake with silent laughter. 

“Oh, whatever,” You mutter, pushing against Lottie's shoulder as you pretend to move away. 

“No,” Lottie whines, her arm tightening around your back as she pulls you closer. “Cruel and unusual punishment.”

“How quickly you give in,” Nat accuses wryly. 

“It's not my fault Y/N went nuclear,” Lottie complains.

“Mhm,” Nat murmurs. “Sure.”

Your eyes slip shut to the quiet sounds of their bickering, content to drift off in the comforting weight of Lottie’s arms.

You catch Nat’s eyes over Lottie’s shoulder in the morning, giving her an amused look. Nat’s face creases in confusion for a moment before looking down at her arm. Her face flushes in embarrassment as the realization of her position sets in. It seems that she’s found herself spooning Lottie at some point in the night. She glances at you guiltily as she scoots away, clearing her throat as she slides out of bed and walks off to the bathroom. You laugh quietly as you see the amused look on Lottie’s face. She’d pretended to still be asleep to spare Nat the embarrassment, but you had no such qualms.

…

Nat groans as she walks into the room, her nose scrunching up in distaste. She quickly replaces it with a feigned smile as Lottie glances over at her, upper body damp and covered in soap in her attempt to wash the dishes. Nat leans against the counter next to you as she murmurs, “Is Lottie trying to make breakfast again?” You nod solemnly as you choke down another bite of burnt toast. You slide the plate with your runny eggs over in front of Nat as you quickly make your exit to go get ready for class. 

You ignore the sound of her frantically trying to convince you to come back as you start brushing your teeth, effectively leaving Nat to her fate of either finishing Lottie’s cooking or upsetting her. You spit your toothpaste out with a sigh of relief as the taste is finally washed out of your mouth. You love your girlfriend, truly, but you wish you could ban her from ever entering a kitchen again. Nat shoulder-checks you on the way out, glaring at you as she rushes to brush her teeth too. the smug look you send her only seems to irritate her more, but you take the narrowing of her eyes as a sign to get the fuck out of there.

You press a quick kiss against Lottie’s cheek as you grab your bag and rush out the door. You don’t quite feel safe from Nat’s wrath until you're on the bus towards college, but even then you know she’s just going to get you when you least expect it. As the sweet taste of the granola bar you stuffed in your bag for emergencies fills your mouth, you can’t deny that it was worth it. As you pull your bag out in the lecture hall to find that every single pen, pencil, or highlighter has been taken from your bag you start to wonder how true that statement was. You can’t deny that Nat moves quickly. 

…

“Hey, Y/N,” Nat calls out as she enters the kitchen. You hum in acknowledgment but don't look up from your textbook. Your eyes were starting to cross from the strain, but you only had a few pages left. “What is this?” Nat asks as she flops down in the seat across from you. You glance up to see Nat holding a toothbrush. 

“A toothbrush,” You offer helpfully, hiding your grin as you look back down at the textbook. 

“I know that,” Nat mutters irritably, a hint of fondness still peeking through despite herself. “I also know that there are three toothbrushes in our bathroom and only two people living here.”

“Maybe I bought a second toothbrush.”

“And it just happens to be purple, Lottie's favorite color?” She questions. 

“Heliotrope,” You murmur distractedly, finally giving up on finishing your reading. “Lottie's favorite color is Heliotrope.”

“What's the difference?” Nat asks wryly, holding the toothbrush up to the light to examine the color. 

You shrug. “Fuck if I know.”

“And the clothes in the closet? Those just happen to be yours too?” 

You close the textbook with a soft thud as you lean forward and rest your head on your hand. “Something you want to talk about, Natty?” You tease. 

The grin on your face slowly fades at the unreadable look on Nat's face. You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to address it before saying “She can stay over less if it's bothering you, Nat. We can start staying at her place more.”

“No, no,” Nat says quickly, almost a little panicked. “That's not it, exactly. I just…” She trails off. She looks a little frustrated as she buries her head in her hands with a loud sigh.  “I dunno it’s kind of lame, I guess.”

“Nat,” You say softly.

She pulls her hands away as she looks at you, hair messy from where her hands were touching it. “Don’t you and Lottie think it’s like… super lame that I’m here all the time? Three’s a crowd and all that?”

“Hey,” You say soothingly, reaching forward to grab Nat’s hand. You eye the toothbrush that Nat’s dropped on the table at some point, making a note to buy Lottie a new one. What Lottie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “You're my best friend, Nat. I’ll always want you here.”

“What about-”

“Lottie does too,” You interrupt, giving her hand a firm squeeze. “I know she does. Lottie’s not shy, remember? You’d know if she didn’t like you.” Nat nods slowly as she considers what you said. 

“Besides, if I had a problem about anything it would be you spooning my girlfriend every night,” You tease. Nat gives you a weak glare.

“Shut the fuck up,” She mutters, voice tinged with embarrassment. “It’s cold.” You give her an amused look, not even dignifying that with a response.

Her eyes slowly fall onto your clasped hands. You watch curiously as a blush slowly appears on Nat’s face. She pulls her hand away suddenly, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“Good talk,” She mutters as she stands up and walks off. You can’t help but laugh. Nat’s allergy to emotional conversations was well-documented at this point.

“Love you too!” You call out, hearing Nat make a vague noise in response.

…

“Y/N?” Nat calls out as she pops her head into the doorway. You clear your throat awkwardly as you peek your head around the shower curtain.

“Yeah?” You shiver at the rush of cold air that greets you, already mourning the loss of warm water.

“Have you seen my hoodie? The Yellowjackets one?” She asks, looking a little frustrated.

You pause. “I… I can’t say that I’ve seen it in a while,” You say guiltily, trying not to look at the pile of clothes you’ve left on the floor. Nat’s eyes narrow immediately, knowing you well enough to tell when you’re lying.

“Is that right?”

You nod, feigning the most innocent look you can.

“So it’s not going to be in your hamper?” Nat asks dryly.

You grin smugly as you shake your head. Nope, definitely won't be there. You think. Nat seems surprised at your sudden confidence, leaning against the door with her arms crossed as she considers the situation. You think you’d almost get away with it if it wasn’t for the sudden giggle behind you.

You stiffen immediately as you glance back to give Lottie a dirty look. She sticks her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout in an attempt to look cute as she steps closer, but the immediate change in her expression as she gets hit with a face full of water from the shower head she’s on eye level with does little to further her agenda. You snicker quietly as you turn back to face a shocked-looking Nat. 

“Has– has Lottie been there the entire time?” She asks in disbelief. You shake your head innocently.

“Lottie? Why would Lottie be here?” This time when Lottie giggles you can’t deny your urge to join, making Nat sigh in exasperation. Lottie wraps her arms around your stomach as she presses up against your back.

“Water’s going to get cold,” Lottie complains in your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck. You and Nat both agree without words to not acknowledge the way the top of Lottie’s head sticks out above yours. Nat finally glances down at the floor in an effort to hide her embarrassment, her cheeks flushed red at the thought of what she’s interrupted when she finds her hoodie lying amongst your and Lottie’s discarded clothes. Nat scoffs as she steps forward and snatches the hoodie out of the pile, turning around and stomping out of the room.

You share a wide-eyed look with an amused Lottie who seems overjoyed to have you to herself again. Just as you're about to turn around to face her you can hear the sound of Nat’s thudding footsteps as she walks back in. Nat, somehow even more flushed than before, tosses your bra back into the pile of clothes on the floor. “It was– it was– hoodie. In the hoodie,” She sputters, practically running out of the room in her haste to leave.

…

Going to a planetarium wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, but the tickets were free and you were broke. Besides, you knew Lottie would love that shit and you were right as always. Admittedly you had a different idea in mind upon realizing you were the only ones in the theater, but Lottie was far too happy watching the constellations appear. She'd even made a little game of making you guess them, but you think she mostly just enjoys knowing things you don't. 

“And that one?” Lottie asks fondly. You eye it critically, trying to see it abstractly but failing hard. 

“A branch?” You offer helplessly. Lottie's face lights up as she giggles, burying her head in your neck to muffle it. She pulls her head back, still shaking with silent laughter to look at you. Her hair is messy and her forehead is red from where she was pressing it against your shoulder.

“A branch?” She asks, pressing a hand against her mouth as she tries not to lose it.

“Yes! Look at it, Lottie. There’s the stick,” You defend amusedly, pointing at the screen. “And then it branches off. Therefore, branch.”

“That’s Taurus,” She says quietly, a smile splitting her face. “The bull.”

“That’s bull!” You mutter, sending Lottie into another round of laughter. “That’s more ridiculous than the stick.”

“You’ve got to look at it-”

“Abstractly, I know,” You quote wryly. You’ve been losing this battle for the better part of an hour. “Where’s Nat when you need her? She’d see the branch too.”

“Nat thinks the curtains are just green,” Lottie points out. “Not sure if you want her on your side.” You scoff, going to defend her before slowly relaxing back against your seat.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, defeated. Lottie grins smugly, squeezing your hand affectionately as she revels in her victory. She leans her head against your shoulder as the slide show moves on– you understand why the tickets were free now– happy to be here together even if you feel like something is missing.

“Is it weird that I wish Nat was here?” Lottie asks quietly after a few minutes. You lean your head on top of hers as you consider it. Your first instinct is to be offended: your company isn’t enough to entertain your girlfriend? But after you move past your initial hurt you strangely find yourself agreeing with her. You kind of wish Nat was here too. It was kind of strange to realize it, given that Lottie was the only person you’ve hung out with without wishing Nat was also there. Nat’s been your best friend just about as long as you can remember, but you do think that things have been different lately.

You sigh, giving Lottie an embarrassed smile as you say, “I tried to invite her.”

Lottie giggles quietly, giving you that secret little smile she saves just for you. “Mmm. And how'd that go?”

“She laughed in my face, ” You admit with a shrug. You knew better than anyone that this wasn't really Nat's scene– it wasn't really yours either– but you'd still been a little sad when she declined. 

“Sounds like Nat,” Lottie comments, letting the moment go as she turns back to the screen. “And that one?” You groan.

…

You and Lottie laugh quietly at each other as you stumble into the doorway, not wanting to separate long enough to walk properly into the door. Lottie nearly takes the both of you down as her foot catches on the doorframe, sending both of you careening into the room. You curse quietly under your breath as your back hits the side table, Lottie bumping into you and further pressing you into the corner currently digging into you. Lottie quietly laughs her way through an apology, hands running up the back of your jacket as she checks for ‘damage’.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lottie murmurs, not looking at all sorry. She slips her hands up the back of your shirt, making you jump as her cold fingertips make contact with your bare skin. You gently tug at the neckline of her shirt as she leans down to kiss you, your hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. 

She pulls back with a gasp as your fingers tighten in her hair, her fingers flexing against your back as she tilts her head back to lessen the sting. You chuckle at the slight flush on her face as you lean up to attach your lips to her neck. She makes a pleased noise at the action, pulling you flush against her as she tilts her head back further. 

You're overcome with fondness as she rubs circles on your back with her thumb as you kiss your way across her neck. She lets out a loud moan as your teeth come into play, nipping gently at her neck. “Y/N,” She murmurs suddenly, pulling away with a guilty look on her face. “Is Nat asleep?”

“What? No,” You say dismissively, trying to move back to Lottie's neck. Lottie takes a step back with an amused look on her face as she looks down at you. 

“Where is she then?” She asks, grinning as if she's caught you in a lie. 

“It's Friday,” You remind her. “Nat's working tonight.”

Oh, She mouths, looking surprised. She gets over it quickly as her face lights up. She grabs your hand and laces your fingers together as she drags you off to your bed, pointedly ignoring your laughter as you eagerly follow behind her. 

You wrinkle your nose at the smell of Lottie's cigarette as you bury your face further in her chest in the hopes of escaping it. Lottie strokes your hair with her free hand with a murmured sorry as she laughs out clouds of smoke. You'd never really gotten the taste for them yourself, too bitter and chemically to ever hold your attention, but you couldn't help the nostalgic feeling that came over you whenever that acrid smell filled the air. 

Suddenly you were 13 again, coughing your way through the pack of cigarettes Nat had nicked from her dad. You hadn’t been the most enthusiastic about the idea to start with, but you’d been goaded into many things at the sight of Nat’s crooked grin. Nat had always seemed so cool, larger than life even, ever since you were kids. You hadn’t– and still haven’t– ever seen a kid as intimidating as Nat seemed back then. Sometimes you think you’d do anything she asked of you as long as she watched you with that proud grin of hers afterward; When you're being honest with yourself you know that you would.

You got so sick afterward that you've never touched another one since, but Nat was never able to kick the habit. You'd spent many a cold winter day leaning up against a brick wall trying to pull your jacket impossibly closer as you talked with Nat as she smoked. You lived for those quiet moments shared only between the two of you. You’ve always been the most important person in Nat’s life, you’ve never doubted that, but something about the sanctity of that space has always made you feel important. You’re never more honest with each other than you are then, as if the clouds of smoke have brought you somewhere else entirely.

You'd almost laughed the first time you watched Lottie light up, the air filled with the achingly familiar feeling of home. It was almost funny: the smell had always been a comforting reminder of Nat– a way to bring her with you no matter where you went– so of course Lottie would be a smoker too. It felt like fate, sitting on Lottie Matthew’s porch as she lit up the same cheap brand that Nat smoked. You suspected Lottie probably stole them, but you never cared enough to ask. You'd let them have their secrets, they always came to you when they were ready. 

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, you and Lottie sharing a panicked look as you both stumbled your way out of bed to pull your clothes back on. “Guys?” Nat calls out cautiously as she softly shuts the door, clearly unsure if you're awake. 

“Yeah?” You call out, trying to sound nonchalant. You quickly pull the rest of your clothes on as you join Nat in the kitchen. Your face lights up at the sight of the brown bags on the table. 

“You got dinner this late?” You ask happily. Lottie presses a kiss against your head as she slips past you to the table. You and Nat share an amused look as Lottie finds her food and digs right in, happily ignoring the rest of you as she eats. 

“Hungry, Lot?” Nat asks wryly as she slips into the seat across from her. Lottie shrugs, a hint of a smile on her face. 

“Long day. Used a lot of energy, you know?” She glances over at you when she says it and you pointedly clear your throat as you slide into the chair next to her. Nat glances back and forth between the two of you suspiciously but ultimately decides to let it go. 

You end up talking long into the night, so tired by the time you all finally stumble into bed that you can barely keep your eyes open. Whether it was by chance or conscious choice you were never quite sure, but as you collapse into bed you fall with Nat in the middle. She seems a little unsure as the two of you cuddle up to her, cheeks flushed and expression unreadable, but makes no move to stop you. If you had to pick a moment that the change in your relationship truly cemented, this was definitely it: head resting on Nat's chest as you listened to the soft thumping of her heart. 

…

You stare at Lottie open-mouthed as you try to take the situation in. “So I’m not hearing a no,” Lottie says, trying to seem nonchalant but failing as her voice shakes with nerves. She takes a slow slip from her drink– which you absentmindedly notice looks a lot like the cups from work– as she watches your expression closely. You sputter uselessly for a moment before you finally manage to get your mouth to work correctly.

“You want to date Nat?” You ask, the hurt clearly creeping into your voice. Lottie’s eyes go wide as she chokes on her drink in shock, holding one finger out to tell you to wait as she coughs out the water she swallowed wrong. Normally you’d be nearly keeled over laughing at her, but you’re so upset that it doesn’t even seem that funny. 

“No, no,” She chokes out in a panic, shaking her head frantically. “Well, yes,” Lottie says after a moment of consideration. “But like you and Nat.” She makes a vague gesture with her hands as she tries to signify all three of you together, but can’t seem to find a configuration for it and ends up dropping her hands awkwardly into her lap.

You feel all the tension in your body drain out as you slump back in your seat. You bury your face into your hands and groan, slowly dragging them down to fall limply on the table. “You couldn’t have found a better way to word that?” You ask, voice tinged with a slight irritation. Lottie shrugs apologetically, blowing you a kiss in lieu of an actual apology. With a roll of your eyes you clarify, “So you want to date both of us? Like a throuple or something?”

Lottie nods, crossing the kitchen to prop herself up on the table as she sits on the edge of it. You sigh, running your hands up Lottie’s thighs as you wrap your arms around her back. You bury your head into her stomach with a muffled sigh, nuzzling your face further against her as she starts running her fingers through your hair. “Is it really a surprise to you? I thought that you– that you felt it too. Don’t you?” She asks guiltily, a tinge of desperation entering her voice the longer she speaks. The hand she’s got resting against your shoulder clenches tightly around the neckline of your shirt as if she’s afraid you’ll leave her here if she gives you the chance.

“I've never thought about her like that,” You say slowly, as if trying to convince more than just Lottie.

Lottie sighs, fingers soothingly massaging your scalp. “You can lie to me, but don't lie to yourself,” She says softly, gently pulling your head away so she can look at you while she speaks. 

“She's… She's my Nat,” You say helplessly as you look up at her. 

Lottie nods as she cups the side of your face. “I know, Y/N,” She murmurs. She gently strokes the side of your face with her thumb as she adds, “What are you so afraid of?”

“I don't want things to change,” You admit, eyes tearing up as your vision blurs. “What if… What if it's different? What if she doesn't want–”

“What if she does, though? What if she wants it too and is too afraid to ask. Wouldn't you, if you were Nat?” Lottie interrupts, wiping your tears away with her thumb. 

“Do you really think so?” You ask hesitantly. 

“I think it's more difficult for you and Nat to see because your relationship has always blurred those lines,” She says. Your eyes widen as you quickly try to deny it but she holds a finger up to your lips. 

“I'm not saying either of you did anything wrong. I just think you've been so close for so long that you don't realize that it isn't a normal friendship,” Lottie continues, looking a little embarrassed as she adds “I was pretty jealous of your friendship before we started dating.”

You lean back against your chair, honestly stumped as you think about the implications of what she's said. Have you and Nat always been like this? “I know you were jealous when I kissed Nat at the party, but–” You start. 

“It's not just about the party,” Lottie says wryly. She's got that expression on her face that you've seen teachers use when they're talking to small children. You try not to be too offended over it. “The two of you have a way of making everyone around you seem like they don't exist. Like they don't matter as long as the two of you have each other.” Your face softens at the admission, squeezing gently at her hips. 

She smiles as she shakes her head. “You've never made me feel like that, though. Not since the party. That's why I know that Nat feels the same. You'd never be able to look past each other if she didn't.”

“Besides,” She adds with a smug grin.” I've seen the way she looks at us when you're not looking.“ 

Your eyes widen in glee. “She…” You trail off expectantly. Lottie shakes her head in exasperation. 

“She was getting more than a glance in that shower. You really didn't notice?” Lottie asks. You pause. Now that you think about it, she was getting quite an eyeful. 

The more you know. 

“So you're 100% sure that–”

“Y/N!” Lottie groans, burying her head in her hands. 

…

Nat groans in irritation as she looks over at you. “Stop doing that shit,” She accuses.

You wonder idly if you always walk this loud or if it’s your own nerves that make every step feel like it’s echoing down the street as you walk home. You think it’s probably the nerves, or at least you certainly hope it is. You glance anxiously down at your shoes as you walk just in case, wondering if Nat’s hearing it too. No, that was stupid. Cut it out. You think, shaking your head as if to clear it from your mind.

You almost want to back out of the promise you’ve made, knowing that you’ve already made enough of a fool of yourself tonight. It’s not your fault that the idea of confessing you and your girlfriend’s attraction to your best friend was driving you up the walls. Sitting on that knowledge would psych anyone out, right?

God, why did you let Lottie talk you into asking Nat about it yourself? You knew damn well that Nat wouldn’t react well if it was the both of you– she tended to strike out if she felt like she was backed into a corner, after all– but you desperately wanted Lottie’s support right now. You don’t know why you're so nervous, it’s only Nat. But that seems to be the crux of the issue: it’s Nat. 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever been nervous about telling her anything, and you're absolutely falling apart in the process. You know that she must know that something going on, how could she not; Nat’s always known you better than you know yourself. It’s one of the things you love most about her, the shared ability to speak without ever saying a word. 

You clear your throat awkwardly, purposely avoiding eye contact as you look over at her. You're almost thankful for the darkness as you can’t quite make out her expression, knowing that it means it’s hiding the blush you know must be present on your own face. You feel an intense flash of guilt you fear at the uncertainty on her face. You knew she had to have been picking up on your weird mood all night, but you never wanted to make her feel bad about it. Nat tugs anxiously at the sleeves of her jacket, pulling it tighter around her as if to better shield herself from the world. Nat’s always done that when something makes her feel small and insignificant. 

Fuck.

“What’s up?” You ask hesitantly. Nat stops in her tracks, watching you carefully as you stop a half-second later.

“What’s up?” She asks pointedly. “You dropped enough glasses tonight that you probably lost more than you made and now you’re doing whatever the fuck this is!”

The first thing you notice is how frustrated she sounds, and you can’t help but shrink slightly under her gaze. She’s glaring at you and you can suddenly understand why people used to jump out of her way in high school. You’ve never had that look directed at you before so it takes you a second to come to terms with it, which is the only reason it takes you so long to notice. She looks hurt. Her jaw trembles with it like she’s doing everything she can not to cry.

“I’ve… Just got some things going on, is all,” You mutter, flashing her a weak smile.

“I know that, Y/N,” Nat says with a scoff. “What I don’t know is when we stopped telling each other things.”

“Nat, I–”

“I’m not done speaking,” She interrupts. You nod solemnly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how fucking weird you’ve been lately. You and Lottie sharing all those little looks when you think I can’t see them.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Nat adds as your eyes widen in surprise. “I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Nat,” You say gently. “I… I guess I’ll just go out and say it, yeah?” Nat nods stiffly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. You’re gracious enough to pretend that she isn’t crying, knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate being called out on it when she’s feeling this vulnerable.

“Okay,” You murmur slowly, tapping your fingers anxiously against your thighs as you try to hype yourself up. Nat smiles fondly at the gesture despite herself, glancing away so that you can’t see it just a second too late. It’s the last push you need to gather your courage together as you blurt out “Lottie and I have a crush on you.”

“What? Slow down. I didn’t catch any of that shit.”

You groan. Again? “Lottie and I… have a crush on you.” Nat makes a surprised noise, anxious hands falling limply at her sides.

“Like… Both of you? At the same time?” Nat asks aloud, clearly just voicing her thoughts. 

You watch nervously as her mind races, scuffing your shoe against the ground as you try to look literally anywhere else. She hasn’t run screaming all the way home, so it’s already going better than you feared it might. You hate when Lottie’s right: she’s always so smug about it later.

Nat slowly starts walking, still deep in thought, and you quickly speed up to fall into step next to her. You try to let her have her space to think it over, but you can't help but glance over at her every few seconds to see what she's thinking. The two of you are completely silent the rest of the walk home, and now you really do think Nat can hear your footsteps. There's certainly not anything else to distract from it. 

You curse silently to yourself, wishing you'd stuck with your initial urge to keep it to yourself. What if–

“You can say no,” You offer suddenly, the deep silence feeling like daggers piercing your skin the longer it lasts. You climb the stairs behind her as you make your way up the stairwell to your apartment. That in itself felt strange given that you'd always walked side-by-side. You figure that it could've been worse. Had the elevator been working, a first in the six months you lived for, you would've been stuck in a box with her. Small mercies. 

“What– What am I even saying no to?” Nat asks quietly as she wrings her hands. 

“Going out with us. Being our girlfriend,” You rush out, deciding it's probably beneficial to be as blunt as possible with Nat. You can tell from her sudden exhale that she appreciates it and you relax in kind. Her hands finally relax as she goes digging in her pockets for her keys, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. 

You watch her every movement carefully as you walk inside, leaning against the arm of the couch as she steps in behind you.”Can I think about it?” She asks. You nod quickly, a little too quickly you think given by the sudden twinge of pain in your neck following the action. 

“Yeah! Take all the time you need, or whatever. I'll just be here,” You trail off awkwardly as you look toward the couch. You should probably sleep on the couch, right? 

“You're not sleeping on the couch,” Nat says wryly, as if she's read your mind. You startle slightly as you whirl your head around to face her. 

“Don't fucking make things weird, idiot,” She mutters, rolling her eyes. Nat steps past you to walk towards the bedroom, but not before taking the chance to push you over the arm of the couch you've been sitting on. You land on the cushion with a soft thud as you’re left staring up at the ceiling, no worse for wear as your legs hang uncomfortably over the arm. You grumble at the sound of her laughter as her footsteps sound down the hall. 

…

You wouldn’t say the next few days were awkward, but only because Lottie made you promise not to say anything about it. Many times over the last few days you’ve caught Nat looking at you or Lottie only for her to quickly look away the second she realizes that she’s been caught. You weren’t sure whether those interactions should leave you feeling hopeful or not, as they often left you feeling quite glum, but Lottie kept insisting that “no news is good news.” 

You’ve often found Lottie’s moods to be quite infectious in the past– no one was having a good day if Lottie wasn’t– but you’ve found yourself to be curiously immune this time around. You tried not to let Nat catch you moping around the apartment, not wanting to make her feel guilty, but the more time that passed the more you began to regret speaking up in the first place. 

You’re lamenting this once again to a long-suffering Lottie who idly traces circles across your stomach as you lie on the couch with your head in her lap. “You’ve just got to give her time,” Lottie murmurs knowingly. She’s probably said this about a dozen times by now, and you’d normally get annoyed at receiving the same response every time if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve lodged the same complaints just about as many times. Your girl had the patience of a saint, but even she had to be getting a little annoyed with you by now. You feel a little guilty at the thought, especially knowing that Lottie would never say anything about it. 

It’s been so tense with everything going on with Nat lately, and the only person you really wanted to talk about it with was unavailable for obvious reasons. You’re left with a strange sense of loneliness, one that you haven’t been familiar with since you were a child. You thought you’d long forgotten what the dreadful years before Nat had moved into town were like, but you’ve found yourself stuck back in them just as easily as you had left them behind.

It made you ache something fierce as it forced you to think about how lonely Lottie must have been growing up. You wouldn’t know it from talking with her, but sometimes she gets this look in her eyes when she thinks no one is watching her. It’s only a pale reflection of the look you saw so many times on her face as a child, but it still pulls at your heartstrings. Just the thought of that resigned look on her face and dull eyes as she swung in silence during recess has you tearing up. You wish so badly sometimes that you could take it from her, that you could go back in time and push two desperately lonely children together. Still, the thought that always comes to mind is whether it would mean never meeting Nat. You’re not sure you could ever trade one for the other.

You force yourself out of your gloomy thoughts to give Lottie an apologetic look as you reach a hand up to cup her face. Lottie closes her eyes as she nuzzles into your hand, pressing her cold face against the warmth of your palm. Her expression is relaxed and open as she reclines against you, stunning even with her cheek smushed unflatteringly against your palm. She remains motionless save for the rise and fall of her chest with every breath. 

Her stillness reminds you suddenly of old statues of goddesses, untouched and immortal; The knowledge they’re made of cold marble contradicted by the strange feeling that they’d be soft if only you reached out and touched them. But she’s so much more than a mere monument: she's flesh and blood, kindness and warmth. She's filled with an endless curiosity about the world that leaves you with an awe bordering on reverence. She's a goddess in all but name, and there is no altar that you would not worship Lottie Matthews on.

As if sensing your gaze she opens her eyes to give you a toothy smile, the edge of her pointed canines peeking out just enough to make you smile in turn. You silently mourn the loss as Lottie moves her head to watch the door a moment before it suddenly swings open. Nat steps inside slowly and she looks around, seemingly feeling an equal measure of surprise and relief to see the two of you relaxing on the couch. 

“Hey,” Nat says awkwardly, a little unsure. “Could we… Could we talk about that thing you brought up the other night?” 

You glance up at Lottie who gives you a reassuring smile as she slips her hand back out from beneath your shirt. You sit up and scoot to the other side of the couch, purposely leaving Nat the seat in the middle. Nat eyes it anxiously before gathering her courage and plopping down on the seat between you. You cross your legs as you turn to face her, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Nat glances back and forth between you as if she can’t decide where to look. Lottie snickers at Nat’s indecisiveness, ironically helping her make the decision as she turns to glare at her. Lottie just grins in response, winking at you over Nat’s shoulder. Nat groans as she relaxes back on the couch, head thrown back lazily as she stares up at the ceiling.

“I’ve been thinking–” Nat starts.

“Oh no, did you hurt anything?” You interrupt, earning yourself a quick flick to your arm. You hiss at the sudden sting, giving Nat a weak glare that she shakes off easily as she continues.

“I thought it would be different when you and Lottie started dating. Most people have less time for their best friend when they get a girlfriend, y’know?” Nat exhales slowly, turning her head to face you. “Kept waiting for it to change. For you to ditch me a few times to hang out with Lottie fucking Matthews instead. But it just never happened.”

“Nat, there’s always going to be a place for you in my life. You know that, don’t you?” You hold out your hand and she slowly reaches forward to lace your fingers together. She’s got a look on her face that you’ve never seen before as she looks down at your joined hands. She squeezes your hand before turning to look at Lottie.

“And you…” Nat trails off.

“And me,” Lottie says with a perfectly feigned smile. Lottie always hides her nervousness in her hands, and you can see the way she idly picks at the skin around her manicured nails.

“You’re not at all what I thought you were, you know that?” Nat asks. Lottie looks surprised, but her smile suddenly turns genuine as a hint of a flush rises to her cheeks. “We spent nearly four years on that team and never spoke, but still I thought I knew exactly who you were: You walked around in those expensive clothes you probably bought with Daddy’s money, to store in your walk-in closet. And then…” 

Nat stops to laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “I found out you fucking stole them. From TJ Maxx of all places.”

“They have good clothes,” Lottie says unrepentantly. “You’re… You’re not who I thought you were either.”

Nat’s smile fades a bit as she asks, “Not as big of a burnout as you thought, huh?”

“No,” Lottie laughs, “I used to think you were cool, you fucking loser.”

Nat scoffs, looking back at you to playfully ask, “Are you going to let her talk to me like this?”

You shrug. “As if I could stop her. She’s got a mind of her own.”

“She can hear you,” Lottie says dryly. You hold your hands up placatingly, dragging Nat’s hand up with yours. Lottie hums in acceptance, but you have a feeling she’s going to bring it back up when you least expect it.

“Got a little off track, but uh…” Nat says, tentatively holding her free hand out for Lottie. “I wouldn’t mind dating you. Both of you, obviously.” Lottie holds her hand up to Nat’s as she compares the size of their hands, grinning smugly before she laces their hands together. 

“We should probably talk about this more,” You acknowledge, sharing a look of understanding over Nat’s shoulder with Lottie.

“Definitely,” Lottie breathes out, as she leans in toward Nat. 

Nat’s eyes are blown wide as she glances back at you as if asking for permission. You just laugh, raising your free hand to gently turn Nat’s head towards Lottie as their lips meet. You're content watching as they move against each other, Lottie quickly getting lost in the hurricane that is Nat Scatorccio. You’d almost be sympathetic if you didn’t know she was giving it almost as good as she was giving it. Your normally composed girlfriend pulls away with a quiet gasp as she loses the battle against her need to breathe. Her cheeks are flushed, and she almost seems overwhelmed. Nat turns to you with just a hint of a smirk, and you surge forward with the knowledge that you no longer have to ignore the urge to kiss it away.

…

After a few hours of actual conversation, spread out among other activities, you find yourself lying across your bed next to Nat. You’ve been watching Nat try to guess the constellations Lottie’s been tracing across her bare back for the last ten minutes, each guess more pitiful than the last. You think she’s just making them up at this point. Judging by the look of amusement on Lottie’s face, you figure that she’s definitely clocked on to that long before you did.

You stretch out lazily as you lean closer to steal a quick kiss from Nat. She smiles dreamily at you as if it still seems too good to be true. You can’t help but return the look, snuggling impossibly closer to her. “Don’t distract her,” Lottie whines playfully. Nat groans as she buries her head into the pillow.

“This is impossible,” She complains, voice muffled by the pillow. Nat sighs. “Orion?”

“Orion?” You ask in disbelief.

“I don’t know any other constellations,” Nat mumbles.

“You’d know more if you didn’t skip out on going to the planetarium,” Lottie comments wryly. You and Nat share a look as she feigns a fearful shudder. You bite lightly at her shoulder in response, laughing at the surprised yelp it earns you.

[damon-loves-pie]

“Thank You For Still Playing.”

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female reader.

Word count: About 3,300 words

Warnings: 18+, setting is mostly at a bar and all that goes with it, emotional talks about family, implied abuse but nothing descriptive, Enemies to lovers implied, fake relationship. (I think that is all. Please let me know if I missed something.) 

Summary:  Robin wants a fun night out and drags reader to Eddie’s show at the hideout even though Eddie and reader don’t always gets along. Steve meets someone who is insecure about reader and he states reader is dating the lead singer of the band, Eddie Munson, Not expecting the musician to join them. After talking both of them realize all their anger stemmed from something that happened in middle school. 

Author’s note: I am going to be completely honest, I didn’t plan for this story to end up like this. I had a whole different ending in mind but decided to go a different route halfway through. But I am actually super happy with how it turned out! 

I hope you enjoy as much I did writing it! 

Writing Masterlist

------

"Come on (Y/N), it would be fun and you like that kind of music anyway." Robin begs while I'm stocking the romance section, looking like she's thinking about getting on her hands and knees.

She had been asking me all week to go out with her this weekend.  

"Why would I want to go see Eddie Munson's band play at some shitty little bar?" I ask her, glancing up from the pile of tapes in my hand with an eyebrow raised.

"Because the drinks are cheap?" She shrugs sheepishly making me roll my eyes in response since the drinks at my house are cheap too.

Feeling defeated Robin moves and leans against the rack I was working on.

"Come on, please. I just need a fun night." Robin pleads, as I shake my head in rejection to her invite.

"Aren't you going with Steve? He's fun sometimes." I shrug, placing the last tape onto the shelf.

"Yes, but he's Steve and I need someone who's actually fun and won't leave me to talk to girls." She explains motioning over to the register where he was flirting with another customer yet again. Sighing I turn back towards her, desperation screaming in her eyes.

I guess I could deal with being around Eddie Munson for a few hours.

"Okay, I'll-

"Yes! Thank you! Thank you! You don't understand how bad I need this." She thanks excitedly, clapping her hands together tightly.

"Only, and I mean only if you buy me at least one drink every hour we are there." I finish, pulling away from the rack.

"Anything you want, it's on me. I promise. We're going tomorrow since Becky and Keith are closing." Robin tells me, still smiling as we start to walk up to the register.

"And Steve here will be picking us up at eight." Robin continues, placing her hands on the counter.

"You actually got miss stick in her ass to agree to going?" Steve jokes, leaning towards us as I huff.

"I do not have a stick in my ass!"

"You do when it comes to Eddie." Robin admits as my mouth drops more.

"Thank you!" Steve says to her lifting his hand up.

"I do not have a stick in my ass when it comes to Eddie. He's just a dick to me for god knows what reason and I'm not going to force myself to be in situations with him on purpose." I say defensively seeing Steve rolls his eyes at me.

"I think you two just need to fuck out your problems if I'm being honest." He mumbles under his breath.

"As if that would ever happen." I grimace leaning onto my elbows, shaking my head.

"Wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen after everything." Robin reminds me as a customer walks in,  taking us back into the reality of our job the rest of the night.

It was leaning close to eight and I still wasn't ready to go.

If I'm being honest, I don't know what to wear tonight. Robin wants a fun time so do I dress up for that? Or do I dress down so Eddie didn't think I was dressing up see them play like some groupie?

Normally I wouldn't care what someone would think about what I wear and when but I already wasn't wanting to spend my night off at the local dive bar and didn't know what tonight actually had in store.

Settling on a short plaid skirt and plain black top I decided this would have to do tonight, slipping on a pair of fishnets and boots with it.  

It was not too much, but not too casual either which was perfect for what I was going for.

Steve and Robin arrived right on the dot, excited to go out for a change.

The bar was pretty full already as we arrived with it being a Friday night, the people of the town wanting to head out for a good time.

"Want a drink?" Robin asks us as we make our way to the bar.

"I need a drink." I laugh, eyes focusing on the crowd as I scanned threw.

Adverting my eyes to the stage I see Mr. Munson already staring with a smirk playing on his lips as we make eye contact.

"Oh god." I breathe, turning around quickly towards the bar.

"What?" Steve asks confused, turning around to see Eddie walking towards us.

"Hey, you guys made it to a show." Eddie smiles giving Steve and Robin a side hug while I tried to not look at them, tapping my fingers lightly on the counter.

"Well I wanted a night out and figured I could support a friend, a local business, and have a fun night all in one." Robin tells him, taking a seat onto one of the stools.

"Mmh, funny to see you here (Y/L/N)." He says directly to me,  leaning against the counter next to me.  

Adverting my gaze to his cocky brown eyes, I see the bartender approaching from the corner of my eye.

"You have Robin to thank for that." I say coldly to him before turning towards the pretty brunette who making small talk with Robin and Steve.

"Wouldn't dare to think you came here on your own will." He chuckles, leaning in closer to get her attention.

Tapping the counter he leans back,

"Lane, put these three's first round on my tab." He asks, backing away from the counter.

"These are my friends- well most of them." He finishes, sending me a wink as he goes to head back on stage.

"God he's such a dick." I tell them as I sip on straw.

"You took the free drink he bought you though." Steve reminds me as I knock my shoulder lightly against his.

"I would take a free drink from almost anyone." I argue as Robin laughs.

"Girls man." Steve shakes his head, spinning the stool to face the counter.

Giggling with Robin, I turn around to face the counter with him.

"Steve babe." I ask as he raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

"What do you want?" He asks.

"Since you're already probably going to be spending some money buying girls who have no interest in getting laid tonight drinks, - why don't you start with buying a round of shots for the two you know are going home with you?" I ask nicely, batting my eyelashes.

Steve goes to speak but looks defeated waving Lane over.

"To tonight." Steve says, holding up his drink.

"To tonight!" Me and Robin cheers, clinking ours with Steve's.

3 shots in and a mixed drink, I was starting to feel really good. The anxiety about tonight faded away as I realized I started swaying to the sound of Eddie's voice.

"You know, their band actually isn't terrible. I think I would be okay coming again." I tell the two as they nod.

"From what I heard before we got too far away in the upside down, he was great." Steve agrees.

"They are starting to get more recognition, they've been playing weekend shows the past month because more people keep requesting them." Robin tells us, leaning in so we could hear.

Nodding, I take a sip of my drink seeing Robin tapping her foot to the beat of the music.

"Want to go dance in the front?" I ask as she smiles, clearly surprised as I stand up.

"You wanted a fun night right?" I tell her, grabbing her hand.

Turning towards Steve, I laugh.

"Consider the stick removed for the night." I joke, waving him off as we go to move to the front of the stage.

Standing below the stage I started to sway my hips, holding hands with Robin as we cheered with the rest of the crowd.

Sending us a quick wink Eddie continued singing, the vein in his neck sticking out as he belted out the lyrics.

He actually looked kind of hot like this, his bangs sticking to his forehead as his fingers moved skillfully up and down the neck of his guitar, the other hand plucking at the strings.

If he wasn't such a dick, he would of looked fuckable.

Shaking the feeling off I turned towards Robin, waving our arms up in the air with the crowd.

After getting refills we found a table since the bar was full, taking a seat as Steve came up quickly, bending over to whisper at me and Robin.

"I don't have time to explain but I may have to find you guys other rides home and (Y/N) the girl walking up thinks you're dating a member of the band because she was worried about you." Steve scrambles to get out as we're approached by a blonde in a red dress before I could even question why he would say that.

"Erin! These are my friends and coworkers, (Y/N) and Robin. The one's I told you about." Steve smiles as she waves.

We all exchange introductions while she took a seat, smiling as we all discussed how the night was going.

"Did you guys enjoy the show?" Eddie asks walking up to our table as Erin's eyes grew.

"This is your boyfriend right?" She asks me causing my mouth to fall open.  

Eddie chuckles nervously, eyes roaming the girl as he see's Harrington's hand on her knee.

"Steve, why would you tell her that?" I ask him sternly as Erin looked confused between us.

Steve turned pale stuttering when Eddie wraps an arm around my shoulder before taking a seat next to me.  

"It's okay sweetheart, there's no reason to keep it a secret anymore. It's not Steve's fault." He plays as Erin smiles.

I look at Eddie who motions his eyes to Steve.

"Right." I agree knowing I should help my friend, turning towards the couple.

"It's just we thought it would be better to keep our relationship private for the sake of the band's fans." Eddie explains to Erin.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I shouldn't of told her. How about I go get a round for all of us to apologize?" Steve asks standing up.

"I'll help you." I tell him, removing Eddie's arm off of me.

We smile to the others before heading over to the bar.

"Steve why would you do that to me!" I whisper yell at him, smacking his arm slightly.

"I'm sorry, Erin thought you were my type and wondered if there was anything between us. I panicked and that was the first thing that came to my mind." He explains.

"God you are so lucky I love you." I groan.

"I'll cover any two nights you want at work." He offers as I glare at him.

"Four." I argue.

"Three." He retaliates as I sigh knowing it wasn't getting any better than that. He had gotten used to arguing with the kids.

"Deal." I tell him as he orders the drinks.

"So (Y/N), Eddie here says you play the guitar as well?" Erin asks as we arrive back at the table.

"Yeah actually I do." I tell her as Eddie scoots closer to me.

"She beat me in our middle school talent show with her skills." Eddie informs her as I glance over at him.

"Oh yeah, I remember you won that year." Robin snaps pulling my attention towards her.

"Was a lot for a young boy to take." Eddie laughs, nudging his shoulder with mine.

"You two look like you work great together." Erin awes at us.

"Yeah, I look up to the relationship these two have. Hoping one day I'll be as happy as they are." Steve agrees as I shoot daggers at him.

Gareth walks up tapping Eddie on the shoulder, giving us a confused look as Steve pleads with his eyes, worried his cover was about to be blown.

Gareth shakes his head, not even wanting to know what was going on with Eddie now as he goes to speak.

"Hey man, the van is loaded up but I'm going to go ahead and head home in a little while." He tells him.

"Could I catch a ride with you actually?" Robin asks standing up nervously.

"Wait how am I going to get home?" I ask her, holding her arm.

"Why can't Eddie take you since he's your boyfriend?" Erin asks confused.

"Boyfriend?" Gareth asks turning towards us.

"Yeah boyfriend Gareth. It's alright, we're telling people now since Steve spilled the beans. The band's fans will be fine." Eddie tells him winking as Gareth catches on that it's Harrington's fault.

"Oh, okay well that's good to know. And yeah Robin I'll give you a ride, come on." He motions towards the exit.

"Yeah we should probably get going too sweetheart." Eddie asks, connecting his hand with mine.

"We should shouldn't we?" I agree, wanting to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

"It was great meeting you Erin, and I hope we get to spend some time together soon." I smile, standing up.

"That would be great! Maybe we all could go on a double date sometime!" She suggests.

"That would be great! Steve we can talk about it Monday at work." I tell him, grabbing Eddie.

"Hope you two enjoy the rest of your night and thank you for coming to the show." He smiles, bowing slightly as I grab his hand to lead him outside.

"God I'm going to kill Steve." I groan as the cool night air hits my face.

"Come on it wasn't that bad." Eddie chuckles, motioning his pack of cigarettes towards me.

"Yeah, I'll take one." I sigh, grabbing the pack and lighter from him.

"Guessing I need to take you home?" He asks leading me towards his van.

"Yeah," I sigh stopping as he goes to walk to the drivers seat.

"Wait, fuck." I curse, pulling on my hair.

"What is it?" Eddie asks, walking back towards me.

"I can't go home tonight. I was supposed to crash at Steve's." I tell him, throwing my hands into the air.

"God I am going to kill him." I say taking a drag, Eddie sits there quietly smoking his cigarette before he scratches the back of his head.

"Look, I know it's not ideal. But if you're going to get in trouble going home, you could just crash at my place. I'll sleep on the floor, it's not a big deal." He offers. Inhaling, I look at him.

"You would really be okay with that?" I ask him.

"I mean yeah, I wouldn't want you to get hurt or something." Eddie shrugs.

"What do you mean get hurt?" I raise an eyebrow as he blows out smoke.

"Look (Y/N), it's a small town. Everyone knows how your dad is." He says quietly as I go to turn around, not feeling like being judged.

"(Y/N), I didn't mean anything bad about it. Hell my father was the same way." Eddie tells me, grabbing my hand.

"I'll just wait 10 minutes and call Robin and ask if I can crash there." I tell him.

"Come on, you know Buckley is going to be passed out as soon as she see's her bed. She's such a lightweight." He reminds me as I sigh.

"God, you're right." I agree, moving side to side on the heels of my feet.

"I'll stay the night with you I guess." I tell him as he leads me to the passenger side, opening the door for me.

"Don't worry about getting in trouble here, Wayne won't care and he's at work tonight anyway." Eddie says letting me into the trailer.

"My bedroom is back here." He motions as I follow him through the kitchen and down the hall.

His bedroom seemed to fit him as he hung up his guitar.

It was defiantly messy, meaning he probably didn't expect anyone to come back with him.

Clothes were thrown around the floor, mello-yello bottles littered across the stand and dresser.

Posters and handcuffs on the wall? My eyes widen as he notices my gaze.

"Oh uh, one of Hopper's stupid deputies tried arresting me for a joint my junior year but I managed to get away from him." He chuckles, playing with his rings.

"It was officer Callahan wasn't it?" I laugh, raising a brow at him.

"Yeah, it was." He tells me, smiling as he headed towards his dresser.

"He totally sucks." I smile.

I watched quietly while he rummaged through his drawers pulling out a worn out Metallica shirt and some boxers.

"Here, I know that your clothes couldn't possibly be comfortable to sleep in no matter how much you had to drink. The bathroom is the next room over." Eddie says handing me the clothes.

"Thank you." I mutter going to change.

When I come back the room looks cleaner and Eddie himself was in an old t-shirt and boxers as well.

"Like I said you can have the bed and I'll lay here." He motions towards the partially made bed.

I crawl in being ingulfed by the smell of old spice, weed, and cigarettes, realizing that's what I smelled when Eddie wrapped his arm around me.

"Goodnight, Eddie." I say as he turns off the light.

"Goodnight." He tells me.

I close my eyes waiting for sleep to take over hearing Eddie rustle below me.

This goes on for about 30 minutes till I speak up.

"Eddie, you can just lay up here with me if you want. I know it has to be uncomfortable down there." I sigh.

"Are you sure?" He asks as I hum in response.

I hear movement as he places his pillows onto the bed before crawling on.

We both lay there quietly in the dark.

"Are you awake?" Eddie asks, turning his whole body towards me.

"Yeah, I'm awake." I tell him, looking over.

"I couldn't stand you in middle school." He admits to me.

"In middle school? I thought you couldn't stand me now?" I ask, turning towards him.

"I was so angry a girl as pretty as you, could sing and play the guitar better than me." He laughs as I smile slightly.

"So that's why you don't like me? Because I won our middle school talent show?" I question.

"To be honest, I think it's because I knew you wouldn't have noticed me back then. I didn't have much, my hair was buzzed and I constantly wore hand me downs my uncle found at the thrift store since my dad had just been arrested. So it was easier to act like I didn't like you." Eddie says to me.

"But we aren't in 8th grade anymore? Why do you still give me attitude ninety percent of the time." I ask him.

"Sometimes when I'm on that stage I think about how it felt to not win when that's all I had to be excited for at the moment and I'm realizing it wasn't your fault especially since you went through your own hard times. " He sighs, before continuing.

"I just want to say I'm sorry, and that I've actually always thought you were pretty awesome." Eddie finishes.

"Can I tell you something?" I ask him.

"Hm?" He questions.

"You were never invisible to me, even back then. Plus no matter how mean you've been, I've always thought you were pretty awesome too." I admit, moving closer to him.

Tension started to build as we sat there.

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie barely whispers.

"Please." I smile, feeling his hands wrap around to pull me closer as I grip his shirt slightly.

Eddie's breath lingered on my lips before he softly pressed his against mine, my hand resting on his chest.

The kiss was soft and tender, pulling emotion from the conversation that just happened while we let ourselves go into the kiss.

"Thank you for coming tonight." He thanks, pulling away.

"Thank you for still playing." I tell him.

[sunflowerwizard]

We Don't Talk About Abdel: the ""Canon"" Gorion's Ward and Why I Hate Him

If you've only played Baldur's Gate 3 you may have heard of Abdel Adrian. The Hero of Baldur's Gate, late Grand Duke, and Bhaalspawn who died, badly.

There is, unfortunately a lot you might not know. Spoilers ahead for the original Baldur's Gate, Baldur's Gate 2: Shadows of Amn, and Baldur's Gate 2: Throne of Bhaal. And their shitty novelizations you should not read.

Your choices matter. Allegedly.

There are many ways to handle continuity in a series of choice-heavy RPGs with custom main characters. There's the approach the original Fallout games did, by setting the second installment long enough after the first, that your player character can be vaguely alluded to without much friction. There's the Bioware approach, of uploading your save data from previous games to slightly effect the world in the next one. And then there's the Baldur's Gate series, which splits the difference and makes the worst of both worlds: a century has past and there's no cheeky vagueness to transplant your own player character as the Hero of Baldur's Gate. It is Abdel Adrian's world and we are merely living in it.

I'd argue there's one thing that very clearly separates a Commander Shepherd from an Abdel Adrian, and that's serving a role in a game that lines up with the story being told.

What's the deal with Bhaalspawn?

I'd like to get one thing out of the way first. Bhaalspawn =/= The Dark Urge. I only mention this because I've seen some people assume all Bhaalspawn operate on the "sleeper cell turbo murderer" framework that the DU does. The majority of the first Baldur's Gate game, the player character themself doesn't know they're in any way unusual. You get ominous dream sequences as the story progresses, up until the Big Reveal.

At which point, one of the themes reveals itself: nature versus nurture. Your PC is a 20-something year old young adult who lived inside a walled town, and had their entire support system torn away the second they left. Unless you've chosen to roleplay that way, they may not have ever felt a particular inclination towards violence. This is in stark contrast with Big Bad, your half-brother Sarevok whose upbringing was filled with struggle and violence.

It's even more apparent in Throne of Bhaal, when you're confronted with it outright: what if your places had been switched? Maybe you would've committed even more atrocities than your half-brother.

We now have to talk about the books. Unfortunately. Canonically the novelization of Baldur's Gate is the origin of Abdel Adrian. He is Philip Athans' brainchild and there's fuck all we can do about it. Unless I get a word of god response from Wizards of the Coast or story beats are directly contradicted in other BG-related media that has come out since, I am treating the events of the books as canon.

A narrative treadmill of a character arc

The game starts out in relatively bog-standard hero's journey fashion. It's morning in Candlekeep, you're leaving home for the very first time with your adoptive dad, and he's been very cagey about the details other than "we need to leave, I'll explain later."

Abdel Adrian, has already left Candlekeep at the start of the novel. He's already in his mid-twenties, and has been traveling the Sword Coast as a sword-for-hire for nearly a decade (presumably cornering the child soldier market). He also really likes killing people, hence his line of work. The big inciting incident with Gorion happens because he sent Abdel a letter about needing to talk, at which point Sarevok shows up, kills Gorion, who tells Abdel to seek out Jahiera and Khalid with his dying breath.

I'll break down my issues with this point by point. -Abdel is very clearly not a level 1 character. Perhaps this is a petty point, but isn't half the fun of this style of fantasy story watching the protagonist grow in skill, until they can eventually face off against the seemingly indomitable Big Bad? Spoiler: Abdel is already at the peak of his Swordsmanship Power™ and we will not see any growth on that front.

-What are the stakes, actually? We went from "everything I know and love has been torn away from me. I'm a level 1 adventurer in a big, dangerous world and cannot go home." to "I'm a big tough fighterman with a penchant for murder who's going to avenge the father figure the book tell-not-shows you I cared about" Like my previous point, we have no baseline, no sense of what the main character has truly lost. I'm much less interested in watching someone start from the middle and fight their way to the top, than seeing someone from rock bottom getting there.

-His Bhaalspawn heritage manifests itself as murdergremlin tendencies. If you've not encountered a player with murdergremlin tendencies while playing a ttrpg, you've almost certainly heard horror stories about them. The guy who loves to escalate encounters into combat, who threatens and maims because "it's what my character would do" and often times view themselves as the main character.

If that sounds exhausting, this is the character whose head we're trapped inside. A guy whose two big motivators are murder and sex, whose external moral compass is his love interest (Jahiera deserved better). AND EVEN THEN by the end of the second book, the only growth he has experienced as a character is "maybe sometimes I won't murder everyone who makes me angry" when he just point-blank refuses to kill the antagonist of BG2. Oh, but not before he had sex with and violently murdered the other main antagonist who was also a woman.

"Okay the books are awful, but why be angry at Abdel?"

Because by virtue of WOTC continuing to use "Abdel Adrian" as THE Hero of Baldur's Gate and a canon character, those books are still canon. SOME elements had to be retconned for being incongruent with the games (did I mention in the first novel Abdel leaves Khalid to die during a fight in the first novel?) but otherwise? I've seen no revisions to his base character. And now every piece of Baldur's Gate media is built on this shitty, rotten foundation.

Are these points somewhat petty? Yes! Either Wizards should've come up with an entirely new stand-in Bhaalspawn to wash the shit taste of those novelizations out of everyone's mouths, or they should've written future material to only vaguely allude to BG 1&2's protagonist. The Bhaalspawn saga was wrapped up perfectly fine in Throne of Bhaal. Either he should've stayed dead with Cyric taking on his domain, or find another way to bring him back. Abdel Adrian having .0001% Bhaal Juice still in his blood and thus turning into The Slayer is a "Somehow, Palpatine returned" way of doing it.

On the off chance anyone is morbidly curious about the terrible novels, me and some pals did a live-reading not too long ago. If this post gets 100 notes I will make a Greatest Hits compilation of terrible moments. Spoiler: one of them includes the "spider in her cleavage" scene.