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sutorus · 6 months

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OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist.

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response.

he had told you to dress up today.

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs.

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time.

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him.

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough.

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him?

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now.

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely.

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most.

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands.

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong.

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that.

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people.

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four.

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it.

the heat inside you spreads further.

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there.

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds.

your shut your eyes tightly.

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are.

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses.

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win.

a one in eight change.

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day.

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort.

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger.

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you.

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least.

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over.

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy.

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are.

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know.

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt.

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all.

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere.

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy.

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit.

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers.

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock.

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race.

but his fingers don’t leave you.

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles.

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you.

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of.

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse.

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him.

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more.

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well.

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder.

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another.

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place.

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you.

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you.

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease.

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair.

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch.

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place.

how fitting.

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.”

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense.

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face.

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it.

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all.

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger.

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement.

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout.

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks.

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

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murdermitties · 6 months

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Dove is a she/he lesbian and I cannot be convinced otherwise cinnamon ground-dove lookin baby

#dovewing #warrior cats #wc #warriors designs #warrior cats designs #once again not gonna be my main design but i LOVEEE how she turned out #the votes that made this was ->#short/mixed/feathery/plump/unusual/sweet/light/spotted/feather/N #sadly not cursed she would have had some supernatural coloring

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grandlinedreams · 5 months

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It's rare that Law falls asleep before you.

Even rarer still that he's even in bed before you ㅡ because when you trudge into his room (which is yours too now, you suppose), you fully expect him to be awake and at his desk, working on something.

The room is in the usual disarray, stacks of books everywhere ㅡ but still comfortable in the dim luminescence of the porthole. And Law is not at his desk ㅡ he's already in bed, jeans and cap shucked to the spare chair you often curl up in, Kikoku propped up against it.

You stare at the sight before you, wondering if you should be concerned ㅡ after all, it isn't every day that you don't have to wrestle your boyfriend into going to bed. You glance at the clock on his desk, then wince.

For once, you're the one who's lost track of time.

You sigh softly, scrubbing at your eyes before you move towards the bed to join him. Law doesn't stir at the dip of the bed or tug of the blankets, breathing still an even cadence as you settle beside him.

Law's face is made softer in sleep, no furrow to his brow or irritated pull of his mouth, and you reach to thumb at the shadows underneath his eyes. They're not as dark as you've seen them, but their presence still makes your heart ache. You know that he has a lot on his plate as a captain, but you also know he struggles to share the workload.

Your touch drifts over the bridge of his nose to his cheek, then to his jaw, stroking gently. In sleep, he offers a soft sigh and the subtle shift to your touch, subconscious movement sending butterflies through your stomach.

You love him. You know that you do, as certain of it as you've ever been of anything ㅡ you love him with every fibre of your being. And you know that he loves you, too. How else would you be privy to this, the softer, unguarded sides of him? It's an honor to be trusted this much, especially when you know how much effort it's taken to get to this point.

Law shifts in his sleep again, reaching ㅡ and you squirm closer carefully, feel the drift of his arm over your waist, the tuck of your head beneath his chin. Comfortable, easy ㅡ and oh so very welcome in this wee hour of the morning.

You snuggle as close as you can, pressing your lips to his shoulder in a soft kiss before you close your eyes, content to let yourself follow him into sleep.

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #gn i'm very tired but smthing short and sweet bc i love law 'n napping w him would be so sweet #listen to j's lullaby by delaney bailey for ooey gooey vibes

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m3talmunson · 1 year

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It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?

Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?

Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.

And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.

"You know about her? Y'know..."

"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."

"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?

"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.

"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"

"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.

"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.

"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.

He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.

"So you're like actually ok with it?"

"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."

" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."

"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.

He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.

It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.

It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.

So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.

It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.

Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.

#short n sweet cause ive been gone for too long #in more personal news! just got cast as one of my lifelong dream roles in theatre yesterday!#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #pet names

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calmparticles · 4 months

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?Want a break from the ads? If you tap now to watch a short video you'll get 30 minutes of ad free music! Yes, really! If you tap now you'll get 30 minutes of ad free music! So what are you waiting for? I'm still waiting.. Why aren't you tapping? Don't you want 30 minutes of ad free music? If you tap now and watch the short video you'll get 30 minutes of ad free music! It's that easy! If you want to be free from the ads forever considerIf it doesn't work for you, then you're using it wrong. Make sure you're using EVERY single filter. If you are currently, then de-select them and make sure they're updated and re-enable them. IT WILL WORK. There's no "it won't work" when you do this. It's either a 1 or a 0. Either a yes or no. Either a "it will work" or an "I am not using the adblocker correctly".

#hi!!! not dead!!! i've just had the most creative block ever DKFBNDF/#here's some poppup whale/dolphin variations for anon! thank u sm vacc anon for the req and kind words - hope u doing good!!/#all of u asks have been so sweet. bless u! <3/#poppup #deltarune #myart #and a teeny tiny ambyu. 2 small for the tag. teeny/#i'm very rusty at art-ing rn - if anyone has any reqs i would love to draw some! i still got lot's 2 go thru too tho <3/#also i finally went back n edited all my image ids into the images themselves - i'll still reblog ids over @ calmparticles-id/#cause 4000 characters will never b enough 4 me DKFJBDF i cannot write short ids 2 save my life or u eyes/#anyways that's enough tags for now!/

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murdrdocs · 6 months

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hazel and her gf making a movieee(if yk what i meannn) with a mommy kink 😮‍💨

smut 17+

there’s an old camera in her hands. almost ancient in both of your opinions, one of the ones with a strap on one side and a viewfinder on the other. the rectangle is flipped out, and hazel turns it around so you can see yourself in it.

sat on the bed, legs spread as your hand rests between your pillowy thighs. your fingers move languidly, stroking your clit as you watch hazel. her free hand is wrapped around her strap on, a newer one, a little girthier and a pretty lilac color instead of the usual hot pink.

“you see how pretty you look?” she asks you, taking a step closer and allowing you to really look at yourself.

you nod, entirely too focused on how close she is to you now. her dick isn’t far from your cunt at this point, and you can’t help but shake your hips, nonverbally begging for her attention.

hazel coos, the sound starting to sound more natural and normal from her lips with practice. she’d gotten insanely comfortable with you within the past few weeks, to the point where it was easy for her to push you into submission, dominating you in a way you’d never been able to predict.

“are you getting desperate for mommy? hm? you want mommy’s cock?”

her words alone are enough to have you losing it a little. but when she takes a half step forward, and slaps your pussy with the silicon head of her cock? you unabashedly moan, the sound breaking off at the end to make you feel even more pathetic.

hazel snickers, starting to run the cock along your cunt, your lips sandwiching the lubed up silicon. each time, the head catches your clit, and your bite onto your bottom lips gets stronger and stronger until you're sure you're drawing blood.

"hazel, please, don't tease."

she leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead that's just barely captured on camera. then, she turns the viewfinder back to its original position, passes the camera to you, and grips your thighs.

she slides her cock in, the new appendage stretching you out more than you'd expected. your head starts to loll off to the side, the camera doing the same. hazel slaps your tummy with just enough force to bring you to attention. "make sure you record us, baby. need you to see how good i fuck you."

#short n sweet #bc i thought i already posted this ...#i didnt #hazelsworld!#celeste writes misc #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan

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eddiesghxst · 7 months

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 4/12)

AHHH HERE WE GO, ENJOY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: wayne is in town and eddie thinks he kind of hates you... maybe

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, scary and sticky feelings, king richie being king richie, and eddie thinks you taste sweet <3

word count: 3.8k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie’s going insane, he thinks.

There’s something wrong with him. Something seriously wrong.

It’s been two days since Eddie slept in your room. Forty-eight hours have passed since you so graciously offered him the peace and solace of your extra hotel bed, and Eddie has yet to stop thinking about you.

The morning after sleeping in your room, Eddie snuck out as quietly as possible to avoid any awkward conversation, even if nothing was particularly awkward about the situation. He didn’t want to have to thank you for letting him stay with you, and he knew that if he’d waited until you woke up, he would have to thank you. So, he escaped first thing in the morning, as any avoidant and coward-like person would do.

He spent all day with fleeting thoughts of you— remembering the sight of you smiling under the light of the TV, the sound of you laughing, the visual of you swallowed beneath fluffy sheets and pillows, pouty lips parted to let out the cutest, most annoying, and fucking nerve-grating snores that gently lulled Eddie to sleep.

He spent time wondering what you were doing, how you looked and sounded in the morning, and being annoyed with himself for depriving himself of the chance to witness that. He wondered if you looked for him when you realized he was no longer in the room— if you were annoyed that he left without saying anything, or if you didn’t care. God, why does he care? It’s not like you two fucked, he just crashed in your room.

That same morning, Eddie had the phantom of your scent all around him. Soft, inviting, and all things alluring, and Eddie wanted to sink his teeth into it and gnaw at it like some fucking teething dog. What the fuck?

There’s something wrong.

However, those weird and unwanted feelings have died down since Eddie hasn’t seen you in the past forty-eight hours. Granted, that’s probably because he’s been subconsciously avoiding you like the plague, which has been relatively easy, considering they’ve been on a short break.

Thankfully, Eddie had a solid reason as to why he fled your room so early that morning— to pick up Wayne from the airport. He took Wayne to a breakfast diner and treated him to a warm meal and coffee to ease the stress of traveling from his bones.

And Wayne has never been to New York, so Eddie took the time to show him around. Eddie’s been to the city many times, and he likes to think he’s somewhat of a pro now that he knows his way around the subway. Eddie swears learning the subway was easier than passing senior year, and that says something.

After breakfast, Eddie took Wayne to the Brooklyn Bridge, where they could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. From there, they took a cab to Times Square so Wayne could witness the absolute chaos that is New York City. They spent some time in Times Square, watching street performances and snacking on greasy foods, and they had a good time until a few people spotted Eddie.

Wayne always tells Eddie he doesn’t mind fans coming up to them and enjoys watching Eddie interact with his supporters. Still, Eddie gets weary of crowds becoming rowdy around anybody he loves, so he tries to keep the interactions to a minimum when he’s out with company.

And Wayne isn’t much of an expressive person, but Eddie’s been around him long enough to read his microexpressions easily and understand that Wayne seemed to like New York so far.

Eddie hasn’t told Wayne about Gareth, partly because he knows he’ll get a long talk about how violence solves nothing, but more importantly, because Eddie doesn’t want to admit that Wayne was right about Chrissy.

Wayne never trusted Chrissy all that much. Chrissy was friendly, respectful, and all things socially acceptable, but she lacked in the caring department. Wayne didn’t like that Chrissy never supported Eddie’s dreams, never showed up to a single show, or didn’t even bother learning the lyrics to at least one song. She didn’t care to show up for Eddie, but Eddie was always there for her. Always.

Chrissy was greedy with love, and Wayne saw right through her innocent act.

And given that Wayne is quite the expert at seeing people for who they really are, Eddie doesn’t understand why he doesn’t see through your innocent act.

It’s Wayne’s third night in New York when you finally cross paths. You’d been passing by each other in the hotel lobby; Eddie, Wayne, and Richie leaving while you were on your way in— and Eddie was content with ignoring you, but god, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?

“You must be the infamous Wayne,” You smile as you shake the older man’s hand. Eddie stands between Wayne and Richie as he stuffs his hands in his pockets while Wayne greets you, pursing his lips and rocking on the heels of his feet as you and Wayne share a short introduction— Richie snickers beside him.

“You three look fancy; what’s the occasion?” You wonder aloud. Wayne smiles, and Eddie doesn’t know when Wayne became so kind to strangers, especially annoying strangers. “Eddie here is treating us to dinner,” Wayne explains, reaching over to pat Eddie’s stiff shoulder. Eddie thinks that may be your indication to leave, but he’s sadly mistaken when Richie adds, “Have you eaten yet? Would you like to tag along?”

Eddie thinks the age is getting to Richie’s head because Richie must be out of his fucking mind.

His head snaps to glare at Richie, about to cut in until you speak up, “Oh! I couldn’t; I don’t want to impose.” You shake your head with a kind smile. Good, Eddie thinks. Don’t impose, stay far a-fucking-way.

But Richie— god, Eddie can’t believe Richie, “Ah, the more, the merrier,” he waves you off, “And the rockstar will pay for us. Who turns down a free meal?” Wayne jumps in, causing you to erupt in soft laughter.

Eddie has to end this, obviously.

“The reservation is for three,” Eddie chips in, and finally, the three of you acknowledge his presence, turning to him as he shifts on his feet. “And we don’t have time to wait for you to get ready.” He adds, pursing his lips and shrugging in an ‘oh well’ gesture.

If Eddie weren’t watching you so intently, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny shift of you caving into yourself, but he does, and he kind of feels bad for a quick second. He doesn’t know why he feels bad because he wasn’t even lying. The reservation was for three, and with New York traffic, they should’ve been on their way roughly fifteen minutes ago.

You open your mouth to respond, probably throw in the flag and let the three men be on their way, but Richie opens his fucking mouth again, “Well, we can wait, and I’m sure you can pull some strings for a third chair, son.”

And Eddie could. He can definitely get a fourth seat because he’s friends with the restaurant owner, but Eddie doesn’t want to. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to pay for your goddamn meal, but, as always, despite Eddie’s wishes, Richie insists you tag along.

He, Wayne, and Richie end up sitting in the lobby waiting for you to get dressed in your room. Wayne and Richie are sitting on opposite sides of the couch, Wayne quietly flipping through a magazine and Richie mindlessly people-watching as Eddie impatiently bounces his leg and pouts in the seat across them. Wayne doesn’t bother looking at Eddie when he says, “You’re gonna leave a dent in the floor, son.”

Eddie glares at Wayne and Richie, “Why did you invite her?” He snaps.

Wayne flips the page of the flimsy book, heavily sighing and shifting in his seat, “This is the girl you mentioned at breakfast, right?”

Richie snickers and raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “You mentioned Birdie at breakfast? That’s interesting.” He jokes, to which Eddie grumbles a short and snippy, “Shut up.”

And yeah, maybe Eddie did mention you to Wayne, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t like that, okay? You just piss Eddie off, and now that he’s not on good terms with Gareth, and Jeff is too busy with his head stuck up his girlfriend's ass, Eddie has nobody to turn to for a good rant, and Wayne— well, Wayne was just there.

“Yes. But did you also hear me mention that I can’t stand her, or did you just stop listening after I said her name?” Eddie grumbles. Wayne smiles behind the magazine, and Eddie can hear it in his voice when he responds, “No, I heard it all… sounded like a load of bullshit.”

Richie laughs, but Eddie ignores it as his face twists in confusion at Wayne’s words, “Excuse me?”

Wayne closes the magazine and looks at Eddie, “Boy, did fame take away what little common sense you had? You don’t hate the girl.”

Before Eddie can respond to Wayne’s encrypted comment, you appear, pulling their attention, “Thank you for waiting; I hope I wasn’t too long,” you huff while hastily adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t remember what he was groveling about or that he kind of hates you.

And you’ve always been pretty. Eddie never thought you were ugly, and quite honestly, if you’d met under different circumstances and you weren’t a pain in the ass, Eddie might’ve fucked you. But Eddie’s hatred for you outshined your beauty… most of the time. However, that film of dusty and grey disdain has been clearing recently, and Eddie’s not sure if he should turn away or keep looking because you’re breathtaking.

He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the dress you’ve chosen and how perfectly crafted it is for you, how the colors compliment your skin in an achingly perfect way. Maybe it’s the way your eyeliner is slightly smudged and smoky from your rushed movements to avoid being late for the reservation. Or maybe Eddie’s just lost his mind right along with Wayne and Richie. For now, he’ll stick with the latter.

Eddie stands up with a loud huff, “Let's go. Before they give someone else our table.” He grumbles, brushing past you and walking off without another word.

Eddie misses the slight and amused smirk on Wayne’s lips.

Wayne, you come to learn, is funny.

You’d thought the ride to the restaurant would be awkward, given that Eddie clearly doesn’t want you here, but Wayne and Richie left no room for the tension to rise. They both told stories and jokes the entire drive, and by the time you arrived at the restaurant, your stomach was sore from laughter. Honestly, you’re not sure how Wayne raised Eddie only for Eddie to end up like… Eddie. Wayne is kind and inviting and all things opposite of Eddie. You almost believe they’re tricking you.

“Since when did you become a stand-up comedian, Wayne?” Eddie sarcastically asks as he opens the door to the restaurant. Wayne had just made a joke about how Eddie was a troublemaker in high school, which Eddie clearly didn’t think was funny, given the scowl on his face.

“I’ve always been a comedian, son.” Wayne pats Eddie on the back as he steps into the fancy establishment. You glance at Eddie and thank him for holding the door as you follow behind Wayne, Richie stepping in behind you.

Eddie was able to get a change of tables, so you were able to join, and you thanked him on your way to the table as the waiter walked you all to your new designated seats. Eddie either didn’t hear you, or he didn’t care to respond; either way, you don’t take it to heart.

Once you reach your table, Wayne and Richie take the seats on the other side of the table, leaving you no other option but to take the seat next to Eddie. Eddie scoffs upon this realization, and you subconsciously chew the inside of your cheek as you settle in the chair.

For the most part, dinner goes by smoothly. You suppose Eddie’s distasteful attitude diffused once the food satiated his hunger— and you think Eddie has the character of a toddler that’s missed their nap time, and a part of you thinks it’s cute, watching him huff and fuss until he’s happily eating. You try your best to focus on the plate of food in front of you and the conversations between the four of you, but you often find yourself glancing over at Eddie.

Because the way Eddie moves is like a movie.

Animated and smooth and all things annoyingly beautiful. The way he speaks with his hands, the way his hair brushes and sways back and forth over his shoulders when he shifts, the sound his rings make when clinking against the silverware. The way his cheeks carve lines when his lips stretch in a smile-soaked laugh, and his eyes widen when he gets excited while telling a story.

It’s captivating.

And a few days ago, you’d thought the wine was the cause for your unwanted attraction, but alas.

You blink away the haze of your short-lived trance and resume eating. Better to leave that road untouched.

Despite Eddie’s low expectations, dinner was good.

He had a nice plate full of food he couldn’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce and a glass of whiskey to wash it down. Wayne and Richie held a good conversation, though those two have always gotten along well since Richie entered Eddie’s life. Richie and Eddie tell Wayne all about life on the road, updating him on the craziest shows and sights, and Wayne informs Eddie about everybody back home.

The kids are soaking up their last weeks of freedom before college, and Max even got a nose piercing, “Somehow, that made her even more of a firecracker, that kid.” Wayne joked.

Wayne says he doesn’t know much about the older half of them, but he runs into one of them every now and then at the grocery store and such, and Eddie makes a mental note to call and check in before the holidays.

And then there’s you.

Eddie wanted to believe you were ruining the vibe of dinner, but you annoyingly made it… better.

You eased into the atmosphere as if you weren’t a complete stranger, asking questions about Hawkins and adding stories of your childhood in Michigan. Eddie had expected you to shy away for most of the dinner since they were mostly discussing things you weren’t there for, but you were as involved as the three of them, if not more.

And Wayne and Richie adore you.

Richie has always made it known that he has no problem with you, and some might even think the two of you have a relationship akin to a father and daughter. But Richie has always been that way. He’s always quick to accept people into their circle and give them a chance.

But Eddie didn’t expect Wayne to warm up to you as quickly as he did.

Wayne is usually wary of strangers, and just like Eddie, Wayne hates the media. Wayne witnessed the hell Eddie initially went through with the press— messy rumors and misconstrued words— and when Eddie almost threw in the towel for good, Wayne was there to wrap it back around Eddie’s knuckles and shove him back into the game. So, you can imagine the confusion reeling through Eddie’s mind when Wayne immediately becomes fond of you.

It’s annoying and stupid, and Eddie thinks you might be a witch because you have everybody under this weird spell that makes them like you.

After dinner, everyone decided to enjoy the nice weather on a walk back to the hotel. Even though Eddie would’ve much rather liked to call a car and make it back to the hotel in less than ten minutes, he can admit that it feels nice to just walk around in light conversation. He doesn’t get much of this anymore. Most days, Eddie is busy doing shows, writing songs, talking to the press, and rolling through each day, so he doesn’t have the time to have simple and lighthearted moments like these.

He’s walking beside Richie, blowing through a cigarette and listening to Richie ramble on about… well, Eddie’s not sure what Richie is talking about because he’s so focused on you.

A few paces ahead of Richie and Eddie, you and Wayne walk together, wrapped up in an intriguing conversation, considering how intently you seem to be listening. You’re watching where you’re stepping, but you routinely turn to Wayne and nod to let him know you’re listening, and every now and then, you even glance back at Eddie and Richie with a soft smile.

And you’re so fucking cute for that.

Eddie thinks he might admire you for that— for being so kind and attentive to Wayne. And you’re like that with everyone: kind and perceptive in a way that makes people feel like they matter, like every word they speak matters. But this… this is different, Eddie thinks.

He’s unsure what it is, but seeing how you interact with Wayne makes his chest warm— like he’s drinking tea on a cold autumn day. Like he’s spent the day shivering in a cold building only to step out into a sunny sky and thaw the cold from his ribs.

It’s endearing, watching you.

Chrissy was never close with Wayne in any way, shape, or form. And although Eddie would’ve loved to see Chrissy interact and get along with Wayne, it just never happened. Not because Wayne was adamant about hating Chrissy or because Chrissy hated Wayne but because they just… never clicked. (And yeah, maybe Wayne disliking Chrissy had something to do with that, but that’s neither here nor there.)

And Wayne is a big part of Eddie’s life. He’s the main reason why Eddie is where he is today and not following in his deadbeat father's footsteps.

Wayne is Eddie’s family.

And the fact that you can acknowledge that and treat their relationship with such respect and care— it makes Eddie feel things that he’s not very keen on feeling.

But the moment of admiration for you is quickly shattered when he catches a snippet of your and Wayne’s conversation.

“You’re a good journalist, I take it. Will I be getting interviewed for this article, too?” Wayne jokes, and you laugh, “If you’d like to, I'm sure I can make the time before you leave.” You respond.

And Eddie doesn’t like that. He hates that actually.

It’s nearly one in the morning when Eddie knocks on your door. They returned from dinner hours ago and called it a night, but Eddie is standing at your hotel room door, knocking at one in the morning. It’s a heavy and loud knock, enough to wake you out of the deep slumber you’d been in, given the way you grimace when you open the door.

You rub your eyes, blinking a few times before settling into a visible state of confusion once you realize the person in front of you is Eddie. You clear the sleep from your throat before sleepily blinking at Eddie and asking if everything is okay.

Eddie doesn’t waste time cutting to the chase, “Are you trying to get my uncle in your piece?”

And yeah, maybe the question could have waited until tomorrow, and maybe the question is dumb and not all that serious considering it was clearly a joke, but Eddie smoked a blunt and couldn’t stop thinking about you— and looking at you now, god, Eddie believes if he hadn’t smoked too much to teeter on the edge of paranoid, he’d kiss you. You’re so cute; painted toes digging into the plush carpet (he thinks he should ask if you’ve iced your ankle tonight), oversized shirt hanging over your body like a blanket, messy imprinted lines of sheets on your cheek from your slumber, and a cute little frown gracing your lips. Eddie’s chest tightens.

“…Huh?”

Eddie almost forgot you were stupid.

“Wayne. Are you interviewing him for the article?” Eddie repeats.

You blink a few times, glancing around the empty hallway and shaking your head, “Eddie, this— this couldn’t have waited?” Your voice teeters on the edge of whiney as you speak.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, rubbing your eyes again before shrugging, “No, I— I don’t think so. I mean… he’s the one who offered to talk. I’m down to do it if he’d like—” “That’s not happening.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Excuse me?”

Eddie shakes his head, “Leave Wayne out of your stupid piece, okay? I don’t want you interviewing him, asking him stupid questions, and twisting his words. He doesn’t need any of that shit.”

And you blink up at him like you’re having trouble processing what he’s saying, and Eddie really wants to fucking kiss you.

Too much weed, he thinks. He should’ve never smoked that much after such a long T-break.

“Um,” you hum, taking a moment to register Eddie’s words before speaking, “Okay… I didn’t realize I had overstepped. I won’t interview Wayne.” You respond. Kind, polite, sweet, and all things that make Eddie’s brain waves spike.

You yawn into the back of your hand, “Can I— can I go back to sleep now?”

And you’re standing there, blinking up at Eddie with these soft and pretty eyes, and Eddie thinks… Eddie thinks, fuck it.

Now, Eddie hadn’t exactly planned to come here and kiss you. Or maybe he had; he’s not exactly sure at this point, but he can’t find it in himself to care because kissing you feels better than any drug Eddie could ever get his hands on.

Your lips are soft and sweet and taste like the lip balm you’d applied before bed. And here, this close to you, Eddie can smell the shampoo in your hair, the clean, scented body wash you use, and the fresh linen lingering scent of the hotel sheets, and it’s intoxicating.

You’re shocked at first; Eddie can tell from how still your lips are, but when you realize that Eddie is kissing you, god, Eddie nearly melts.

You kiss like nobody Eddie has ever kissed before. Like you’ve spent years perfecting every single move, calculated and precise and all things electrifying. And if this is how you kiss when you’re grumpy and sleepy, Eddie can’t imagine how you kiss regularly.

But he shouldn’t be imagining that, and he shouldn’t be kissing you, and he shouldn’t even be here, for fucks sake!

It takes nearly everything in Eddie's body and soul to pull away from you, and it pains him when he loses the feeling of your lips against his, but Jesus Christ, Eddie doesn’t know what came over him.

You look at him in shock, almost like you’ve seen a ghost, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do or say.

All he can do is turn around and go back to his room without another word, leaving you speechless and confused, with only the echo of his door slamming to aid both of your whirling thoughts.

————

part five

————

a/n: GASSSPPP A KISS ?? LMAOO NEXT PART WILL BE A BIT MORE DRAMA FILLED SO LOCK IN BESTIES! AS ALWAYS, I LOVE ALL AND ANY FEEDBACK SO PLS LMK HOW U FEEL <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92

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chakkll · 6 months

Text

Lucky Day

Mike Schmidt x gender neutral!reader

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy’s

Synopsis: A certain exhausted customer hasn’t failed to order a coffee every morning ever since the cafe opened up two months ago. Today, however, he seems much more stressed than usual.

Warnings: pre-movie, fluff

Word count: 1k

“Mama! Look, look, I even got the receipt!”

You smile as the little girl who just ordered a hot chocolate skitters over to her mother with a proud smile.

Warm sunlight shines through the windows of the cafe, illuminating the dark oak tables lined by the walls decorated with paintings and drawings by little kids.

You’ve loved working here, even though the place hasn’t been open very long. The atmosphere never fails to calm you.

The line is empty once again, so you turn to your coworker and friend, Candace, about to start a small conversation until you hear the front door’s bell jingle.

You look over to the door, readying your work smile, until you see who it is.

There he is. Right on schedule.

A genuine smile creeps onto your face.

Ever since the cafe you work at—Cora’s Coffee—opened two months ago, the same worn-out yet handsome customer hasn’t failed to show up every morning at 9am for a coffee.

And in Mike walks, this time sporting dark circles under his eyes.

He walks past the little girl clutching the receipt next to her mother and right up to you.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Black coffee, a quarter cup of half and half, and one spoonful of sugar?”

Mike blinks, staring at you blankly until the ghost of a smile appears on his face.

“Yep.”

But his response doesn’t matter, because you’re already writing down the order and handing it to Candace.

“You look tired,” You observe as you put his order into the cash register. Mike sighs and offers a weak shrug.

“Up late job hunting.” Is all he says in response, causing you to glance up to him.

Somehow he looks even more sleep deprived than normal. …Still handsome, though.

You can feel your cheeks warm slightly at the thought, but you brush it off.

“Job hunting? I thought you were just hired somewhere?” You frown.

“Yeah, so did I.”

You sigh softly as Mike takes out a 10 dollar bill to pay, but you wave him off. He stares at you in confusion.

“On the house.”

Mike blinks, staring at you quizzically. “…Won’t your boss be upset?”

You shrug. “She can take it off my pay.”

Mike’s stare doesn’t let up, and it’s starting to make you a little self-conscious.

“What? Never heard of a little act of kindness?” You huff as you hide your face behind the cash register, acting like you’re busy to try and hide the small blush on your cheeks.

You can hear a small chuckle, causing your eyes to widen. You look up from behind the cash register to see a small smile gracing Mike’s lips.

“Thanks.”

You shrug, causing him to chuckle once again.

“…You remind me of my sister.” You hear Mike mutter softly. Looking up, you see a sad glint in his eye. His smile is gone.

“Your sister?” Mike looks at you, and you can tell he’s a little surprised you heard him.

“…Yeah,” When you don’t say anything, he sighs and continues. “She’s younger than me. 10 years old.”

You blink. “I remind you of a 10 year old? Gee, thanks.” Mike snorts.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re just… I don’t know, you remind me of her.”

You smile. Just as you’re about to say something, you feel someone elbow your side. It’s Candace, handing you Mike’s coffee.

You frown in confusion, as it’s not your job to give customers their drinks. Candace motions for you to read the cap of the cup.

You read it, and clearly written on the cap is:

look on the bottom of the cup for a surprise!

Candace’s handwriting.

You glance at her suspiciously before looking to Mike. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Mike shrugs and you step farther behind the counter, peering at the coffee cup curiously. You glance up at Candace who’s taking a customer’s order, but she shoots you a cheeky smile.

You sigh and carefully raise the coffee cup above your head. On the very bottom of the cup reads:

Hey! In case you wanna hang out, here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

- (Name) :)

Your jaw clenches in embarrassment.

“Candace—“

You look up, only to see that where Candace was standing is now your other coworker, Benjamin. He seems just as confused as you.

You grumble and screw the top back on.

Glancing up at Mike, you just now realize how long he’s been waiting for his coffee—this and chatting with you probably took up a lot of his time, as he’s almost always in and out.

You purse your lips as you glance down to the cup of coffee and back up at Mike. He chews on his fingernail, uninterested, as the sunlight now shines on him. The tips of his dark curls shine a nice golden brown.

Feeling bad that you’ve made him wait so long, you decide to replace the cap of the cup with a different one that has no writing on it.

Screwing the cap on, you walk back to your place at the cash register.

“Mike!”

Mike looks up and walks over. He takes the cup from your hands.

“I can pay.”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Mike sighs, shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Thanks again.”

You smile and wave as he turns to the door. He sends you a wave over his shoulder, and with a jingle, he’s gone.

Two hours later…

You yawn, stretching your arms over your head as you walk out of the cafe. The bell bids you goodbye with a cheerful chime, and you walk down the street to a cheerful beat. You reach into your back pocket and pull out your phone.

Opening the settings, you turn off Do Not Disturb, only to see you’ve gotten seventeen texts.

You open up Messages, seeing most of the notifications were from a group chat with a few of your friends.

However, you have one text from an unknown number.

You curiously click on the text, only for it to read:

<9:36am>

hey, this is mike. i’m free on weekends if the offer to hang out is still available?

Your eyes widen and you read over the text at least three more times before you’ve finally processed it.

Mike Schmidt wants to hang out with you?

This must be your lucky day.

#fanfic #imagine #fanfiction #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #fluff #strangers to lovers #barista #coffee #cute #short but sweet

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formulafics · 6 months

Text

★ MR. ALL AMERICAN | LS2

Scenario: in which max verstappens little sister thought she was doing a good job hiding her relationship from her older brother, but the hard launch isn’t surprising to him.

Pairing: logan sargeant x fem!verstappen!reader

A/N: guys i love logan sargeant sm, and this requests was super cute and fun to make. enjoy!! 🫶🏻

yn_verstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, alex_albon, and 201,432 others

yn_verstappen just a late night track walk…plus a silly little picture of max since the max girlies in my comments are begging me for it

view all 2,453 comments

formulamax HELP i feel so called out by the caption

grillthegridddddd slide three? 🤨 who is that yn?

⤷ rizzciardo me thinks logan sargeant

⤷ norrizzlando nah that doesn’t look that much like logan

⤷ sargeantformula IT LOOKS LIKE HIM BUT DOESNT AT THE SAME TIME

⤷ supermax33 maybe it’s max?

maxverstappendefender yn feeding us once more. thank you @/yn_verstappen

⤷ yn_verstappen your welcome 😌

⤷ sargeantformula riddle me this is that logan sargeant? pls answer i have to know

yn_verstappen

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 142,320 others

yn_verstappen just enjoying the view (oh and a beach and logan’s friend is there)

view all 2,342 comments

logansargeant idk i’d say my view was better

⤷ yn_verstappen of course you would (ilysm)

formulasargeant i would kill to know what max’s response to this was LMAOO

⤷ mv33lvr he’s definitely fed up LMAO

oscarpiastri this is not the post i expected from you, yn.

⤷ yn_verstappen i’m sorry i’ll do better

⤷ maxverstappen1 no you won’t

⤷ yn_verstappen yeah youre right i won’t.

*liked by yn_verstappen*

f1girlie YN FEEDING US LOGAN CONTENT 👏 logan girlies please rise

godblessls2 MOTHER IS MOTHERING - thank you for the content, yn

sargeantformula GIRL did you edit logan’s shirt in that soft launch? 😭 you were working hard trying to make it less obvious

⤷ yn_verstappen HELP no one has to know i did that

formulasargeant Who else saw logan’s post of yn

⤷ ynswife BRO SHES SO FINE HELP ME i did not expect to be blessed with yn in a bikini today

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

Text

EARLY MORNING (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: new routines are formed between you and eddie, and a code-word is formed for the bad days.

warnings: fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), mentions of financial struggles, mentions of weed, eddie is just having a rough time (just like me fr)

wc: 2k+

the full menu

Eddie doesn’t process he’s not the only one in the parking lot until your palm is smacking against his window.

He had been too wrapped up in his music he currently has blaring, the heavy bass and guitar riffs of For Whom The Bell Tolls shaking his van’s foundation as he let his eyes close for just a second. He wasn’t sleeping — he wishes he was sleeping. It was early, still four something in the morning, and he had hardly slept at all the night before.

That slap of your hand against glass startles him, breaking whatever trance he had put himself under.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, blinking drearily as he rolls the window down and reaches to turn down the music, glaring at the image of you standing there with your arms crossed like a mother rearing up for a scolding, “Can’t a man have some relaxing alone time with Metallica before he slaves away for the siren?”

Your demeanor cracks a bit, corners of your lips twitching to expose your amusement. You’d taught him that ridiculous joke — slaving away to the siren. That sly grin you were currently biting down on is the same one you wore when he’d been scolded for saying it in front of management.

“Dude, I could hear your music from across the parking lot. There’s nothing relaxing about it.”

Dude. He pretends like he won’t overthink that term, tries to focus on the endearment behind it rather than the sinking feeling in his gut. It’s hard to do that when you look so damn pretty, though. Bare faced, hair messily styled for the shift ahead of you two, those staple black jeans that always drags his jaw along the floors.

“Shut up,” he doesn’t even have to ask, already leaning over to unlock his passenger door before you’ve started the journey around the front of the van. It’s a normal routine at this point for the two of you to sit in either his van or your Jeep together before opening. Enjoying a moment of silence with each other before you spend the next five hours and some change navigating the chaos that is the morning rush. Once you’re planted in the seat beside him, door securely shut and a shit-eating grin you don’t try to hide, he finally continues, “It’s relaxing to me. Not all of us start our day with that Taylor Swift shit.”

Your grin widens, and so does the cavern in his heart that strangely resembles the shape of you, “You secretly love that Taylor Swift shit, don’t lie.”

And you’re right. Of course you’re right, but for all the wrong reasons.

He loves it because you love it.

“I believe company policy is we can lie until we’ve had our first shot of espresso,” he grumbles, still trying to act unimpressed as he crosses his arms and shuffles deeper into his seat. He pinches his eyes back shut, this time just to avoid staring at you.

His mind and heart alike can’t take the way you look in the lavender dusk that still lingers in the parking lot, the soft light filtering through his van’s windshield.

Metallica continues to play in the background, much lower than it was previously to your arrival. He’s content to sit here, the sweetness of your perfume hanging heavy in the air and just knowing your presence exists beside him now. To hear your breathing if he focuses hard enough. To listen for if you begin to pilfer through his glove box, to listen if you begin to tap along to any melodies on your knees. Small things. Things you don’t think about, and things that occupy his mind in a suffocating fashion. They have for the last several months now; you’ve managed to occupy his mind quite consistently, even on his days off. If he’s given a day of leisure, all he can do is consider what you’re doing. If he’s scheduled a shift without you, all he does is compare the other baristas to you. It’s poisonous. It spells out trouble.

But in this moment, it more so whispers comfort. He knows there’s nearly thirty minutes until the key holder for the morning will arrive, and he lets himself lean into it. For the first time in nearly twenty four hours, sleep and rest alike are gunning for him with ease.

He’s got one foot in the door of falling asleep when you break the silence, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“You just di-“

“Shut up,” you huff, and he cracks open an eye, “I just… Okay, you can tell me to fuck off if you want.”

That catches his attention. Both eyes are wide open now, boring into yours.

“Well?” he hums. You’re nervous. And it’s cute, and it’s normal. These moments are always quiet between the two of you. He hardly even remembers how this first became the normal routine for you two, but he’s grateful. He looks forward to it so much that his mind has spent the last two weeks trying to formulate ways to extend the tradition to after your shifts together to finally solidify that offer of friendship he’d accepted so long ago, “Don’t just leave me hanging in anticipation, babe.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue with no effort. It’s different — with other coworkers, with customers, with everyone. He hasn’t picked up the habit of dropping nicknames with these strangers, but he has with you.

You, who has coined him as dude. Again, he tries to not overthink it.

“Have you not been sleeping well?” you blurt out, starting to fidget with the edge of your shirt and not looking up at him, “I just- I’ve noticed you’ve been more tired this last week, and I get it — we’re all always tired in the morning. I mean, it’s early as fuck. But I just noticed you’ve been more quiet and you’ve got these bags under your eyes and you’ve been sneaking more cold brew shots and-“

You don’t take a single breath as you rattle off your list of observations, seemingly petrified to reveal to Eddie that you see him. You notice him.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling; to know someone has a watchful eye on you and, furthermore, cares about the changes they pick up on.

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever experienced it before. Or the warmth that floods his chest.

“Oh, hey,” he finally sits up. Your mouth is still moving, ready to continue on, “Hey, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out and lands on your knee. It effectively leaves both of you speechless.

“I…” How does he tell you? How can he best reveal the truth?

I am tired. I’m not sleeping well. Bills are piling up and life is kind of shitty right now, and nothing really makes sense. Except you. You make sense, by some odd chance. You make it better.

“I’ve just had a lot of trouble sleeping recently. Don’t worry about me so much,” he settles on instead, the only words not too heavy to force out of his mouth.

His hand is still on your knee.

And suddenly, your hand comes down over his hand, palm a few degrees cooler than his own knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “That… that doesn’t help, but it sucks and I’m sorry. And if I can help in any way… just say the word.”

The word — what is the word? He wishes he knew it. He’d blurt it out in a heartbeat.

His hand squeezes your knee, and in sync, your fingers return the gesture to the top of his hand.

It’d just been a lot, recently. He’s tried to take some of the burden off of Wayne at home, he’d been looking into taking night classes at the community college back in Hawkins, he’d been considering a second job to help claw their way out of the current sea of debt they were drowning in. He was always in his head, he was having nightmares when he’d try to get to bed at a decent time. Panic attacks were occurring that even the weed couldn’t take the edge off. Questions of his future, questions of his worthiness of the people in his life — they’d all started to haunt the quiet corners of his room in the middle of the night.

But they didn’t haunt these roads, this parking lot, this time spent with you. You’d enter his line of sight, and it all just shuts off.

“Is everything okay at home?” you gently press at his silence, eyes flickering up at him for only a moment before a finger mindlessly traces over one of his rings.

No. “It’s… fine.”

Last night, he’d nearly put a hole in the wall before he’d settled to curling into the center of his mattress until his knees and chest were familiar companions. Until the tears he’d tried to ignore turned into silent sobs and he’d eventually cried himself to sleep a mere hour before he needed to be awake again for work.

“Just say the word,” you repeat yourself. He wants you to look at him again; it’s easier to breathe with your eyes on his, “Say the word, and… Fuck, I don’t know. We can both call out, just take a nap in the back of your shitty van.”

And oh, he smiles at that. The thought of the two of you in the back of his shitty van, as you had so lovingly called it. He thinks if you two did that, he might just sleep well for the first time in weeks.

“We’re already here,” he shrugs and finally lifts his hand, patting at your jeans before he entirely retracts his touch. He tries to not ponder on the falter of your own hand, the way you had hesitated in letting him pull away, “But, for future reference, what is the word?”

“Huh?”

“The word. What’s our code word for… just saying fuck it and taking a day for ourselves,” he explains.

He hopes he isn’t overstepping a boundary. He hopes you weren’t just being polite.

You smile softly this time, something genuine shining through as you think for a minute before looking at him. This time, your gaze doesn’t falter as you whisper, “Mordor.”

He can’t help it, he snorts. “Mordor? Have you even read Lord of the Rings?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, still focused on him, still encouraging the air to enter his lungs finally and not even knowing it, “But I saw your copy on the back desk. Maybe that can be one of our fuck it activities — you read it to me or something. Make me into a nerd.”

That imagery gets to him. Nearly makes him tear up. You and him, in the back of his van, your head on his chest as he reads his favorite book to you. He nearly screams mordor right then and there. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself, and that’s probably not what you meant, but he wants it. With each passing day that he spends around you, he finds himself wanting things like that more and more.

You treat him differently than everyone else. You don’t climb into the car of the other openers, you don’t seem to let that painfully polite guard down with everyone else in the same fashion. Even Nicole had noticed it.

“She’s awfully soft for you,” she’d commented one morning as Eddie and her had been left alone as you went to the back to clean dishes before the store was open, “Out of all the people she could’ve gone mushy for, it’s you. Can’t figure out why for the life of me.”

He couldn’t either. But your tenderness you'd extended so easily to him fuels him, makes him yearn for it when you’re not around, makes him think maybe there’s a bigger reason for all of it. Or maybe, that’s just what friends are for.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer one of these days,” Eddie finally muses, leaning his head back and trying to smile with the same type of softness you offer him. Tries to make sure you know it goes both ways. Tries to communicate the fact that one of these days might just come sooner than either of you expect.

Your smile tells him the message is well received.

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#coffee shop blues #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #posting this before an open woohoo #just short and sweet and projecting

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