#abercrombie kids | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 8 months

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy. You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes. Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow. You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close. "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair. He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store. "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task. This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked. "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced. "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut. But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him. "Yeah, he's pretty good. Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you. "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod. "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

��Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned. “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look. “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised. “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you! Nobody even rents movies anymore.” He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly. “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again. “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested. “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example. Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf. “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little? Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time. At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up. You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot. It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends. Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade. That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying. Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone. That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered. “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected. “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms. It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage. “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming. They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club. In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it. You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion. She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate. You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested. “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though. Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking. That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up. Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages. The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself. He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you? Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied. “Anybody.”

You snorted. “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled. “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage. Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude. You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry. You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now? What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together? What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left. You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again. “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor. You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage. A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed. “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember? We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you. “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile. “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile. “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed. “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why. “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there. “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously? Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open. “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road. Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often. Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own.

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk. “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer. And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left. You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something. But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week. You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt. You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.

But the button-downs? Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded. The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms. You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically. You waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today? Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey! You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth. “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped. “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky! Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in. “She just borrowed my shirt! ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along. “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you. “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him. “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed. “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment. “You know, that’s so reductive. For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not! ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously. “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused. “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted. “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening. That made you furrow your brow a bit. It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick. You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together. You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile. Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you? “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged. “That’s just the vibe I got, okay? That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated. “Well… she’s not,” he decided. “You’re grown-ups. Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan. “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know. He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically. “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball. Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach. “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you. “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you. You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given). Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore. It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently. So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad. Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now. You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change. Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways. “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765. “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff. “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide. “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance. He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly. “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly. “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then. As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him. “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off. He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really. You just weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t sure if you should say anything. And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird. Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this. Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard. “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically. “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Carter, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed. “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality? Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me? What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Carter that’s already had John? ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table. “You fuck Carter, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided. You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug. “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows. “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer. “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing. “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him. “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied. “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you. “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that. What did he expect you to say? Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se. He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no. I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit. “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued. “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly? You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped. But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed.

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you. “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously. “Um, I… well, I’m not coming. I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised. “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight? I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical. "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained

"You can't wear that to a date?" Julien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt. "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured. "What, I don't look good in a suit? 'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed. "Have fun, alright? And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned. "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later. Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date. You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie. We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay! That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again. “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know. “I think I’m just, like, friend material. I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know? Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants? To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head. You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang. That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am! Hanging!” you snapped. “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back. “No, no, you look cool! I mean, you look really great. I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested. "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured. "If he wanted me, he would. He doesn't. It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him. "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from. "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window. We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled. “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed. “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started.

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed. "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed. “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case. “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh? You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully. “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it. It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No! I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful. “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted. “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day. Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again. “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though. I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued. “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that. I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer. It was funny. And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird. So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling. “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him. He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse? Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship. ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious. But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can. “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff. Least of all you and I being married. Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat. “Yeah. No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite. “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that. Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second. Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that? Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad. What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street. You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club. You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back. He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit. “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too. Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights. “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you. “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better with you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor. "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement. "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time. "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn. You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off. “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight. And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured. “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve ever been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed. “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed. “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered. “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him? Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much. “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider. “Sheesh. No, I had no clue. Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad. It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely. “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed. “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him? One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while. And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right! I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted. “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him. But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided. “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed. “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed. “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted. “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is. He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar. Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face? He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently. “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder. “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed. “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #you know... eventually #but you have to get to part two for that lol

2K notes · View notes

omgthatdress · 1 year

Text

Oh my god I hate Mattel so much.

They took the American Girl brand and gave it a lobotomy.

I was going to make a very very very very bad joke about one of the 90s girls getting an eating disorder after watching Britney Spears, BUT DECIDED AGAINST IT because eating disorders are something you don’t joke about, BUT. HERE’S THE THING.

Here’s the thing. Being a tween-to-teen-age girl in the late 90s early 2000s was BULLSHIT. You had 16-year-old Britney Spears singing “Hit me baby one more time” in her Lolita schoolgirl miniskirt and crop top showing off her perfectly flat abs, and then you went to school and had abstinence-only sex ed mandated by the evangelical right wing who gave out purity rings and told you that only sluts had sex before marriage. And then there was the issue of being a fat girl trying to find jeans that met her school’s dress code the days of low-rise jeans and belly button rings.

I ended up adoring Linkin Park because their music gave voice to the rage that I had inside of me because of all that. I wore men’s pants from Hot Topic not only because I thought they were cool, but they actually fucking fit and they covered my ass crack. I wore black because I didn’t fit in to the ultra-skinny, ultra cool kid Abercrombie aesthetic. And THAT is what growing up in the 90s and coming of age in the 2000s was like.

“Nicki Hoffman is a nine going on ten year old girl living in Seattle, Washington just before the year 2000 (the turn of the millennium). She is six minutes older than her fraternal twin sister, Isabel, but one inch shorter. Nicki prefers grunge, ska music, rock, alternative, and skating; she is the "grunge" to Isabel's glitter. She does not like eating raw fish and sushi; her father teases that they can's spell "finicky" without Nicki. She likes sour candy--the more sour, the better. She's known to be shy, to the point Isabel points this out; she initially doesn't have other friends than Isabel. She's very anxious about the Y2K problem and the risks and worries that have been circulating, so Isabel and her create a list to take her mind off her worries of things to do before New Year's.Her favorite color is purple, her favorite animal is a dog (she adopts her puppy, Blossom, as a Hanukkah gift), her favorite band is No Doubt, and her favorite show is The Powerpuff Girls (her favorite character being Blossom). She likes to snack on Wild Berry Pop tarts. She does not like her middle name, Pearl.The family is interfaith and celebrates both Hanukkah and Christmas. “

It’s a sterilized and dumbed-down version of growing up in the 90s, one where they only real problem facing girls is the y2k bug. It’s about the aesthetic but not the experience. Honestly the girls of today deserve to see that their moms had it difficult, too, and that the pressure to grow up incredibly quickly and be beautiful and flawless and instantly become a woman is nothing new, now it’s just on TikTok instead of MTV.

It’s the trap of nostalgia. Just because you were younger and not as aware of the issues going on in the world doesn’t mean the world was better.

472 notes · View notes

xxbimbobunnyxx · 5 months

Text

Y2K!Steve Harrington x MallGoth!Reader headcanons

You can find all things y2k Steve on the Masterlist.

This a lil joint AU me and my bb @reidsbtch have been cooking up you can find all of her y2k Eddie works here. Divider used is by @firefly-graphics.

Your relationship:

• You and Steve met on Halloween and have been inseparable since, you pretty much just started dating after that.

• For you first date he picked you up and surprised you with a picnic in the cemetery and then took you to see Queen Of The Damned. You swooned so hard and he asked you to be his official girlfriend that night.

• It didn’t matter how long you and Steve had known each other it’s just a “when you know you know.” Kind of relationship. He tells you he loves you two weeks into knowing you.

• Steve will do anything for his girl. He knows you don’t like to drive so whenever he’s not working he takes you wherever you need to go. He loves running errands with you.

• He LOVES to spoil you. Whenever he sees a vampire book or a plushie you’d like he always picks it up and surprises you with it.

• He calls you “angel” and the first time he called you that you laughed because it didn’t seem very fitting for you, but always he says “you’re his beautiful dark angel.” And it gives you butterflies every time.

• He absolutely has a Polaroid of your butt in his wallet.

Steve:

• He makes pretty good money working as a bank manager, his grandpa helped him get the job before he passed.

• His grandpa also left him his lake house. It’s a decent size and he fantasizes about starting a family with you there.

• He loves chick flicks. (Mean Girls, Legally Blonde, 10 Things I Hate About You, etc.)

• He loves boy bands and top 40 pop music but he loves when you dance around to nu metal in his kitchen in just his polo. It always makes him smile. You listen to it so often he’s learned a lot of the words and he will sing along with you.

• Wears pink on Wednesday’s, even when he works he puts a pink button up under his suit jacket.

• Plays Guitar (Eddie taught him.)

• Is still really close with Robin and the kids but Eddie has become one of his bestfriends as well.

• Drives a red 2002 series 3 BMW

• Wears Abercrombie and Hollister but also wears cute pretty little sweaters

•Wears glasses

• Definitely has a blackberry - His ringtone for you is bad girlfriend by Theory Of A Deadman

• Your contact in his phone is My Dark Angel <3

Reader:

• You work at Hot Topic in startcourt mall but you’re going to school to become an art teacher

• Your favorite bands are Korn and Deftones

• You love horror movies but the Chucky and Scream franchises are your favorite

• You’re a huge nerd. You love lotr, Star Wars, Batman comics etc.

• You play D&D and Eddie let’s you join his collage Hellfire group

• You have a few tattoos and your eyebrow and nose pierced.

• Your ringtone for Steve is A.D.I.D.A.S by Korn

• Steve’s name in your phone is Pretty Boy <3

• You have a little black cat named “Wednesday”

#mariah & dolly’s y2k collab #opposites attract y2k au 💞#steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington headcanons #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x goth!reader #y2k Steve Harrington

66 notes · View notes

lovelyhamstring · 2 years

Text

Bruised & Bloody | part 1

Eddie Munson x plus size fem!reader

summary Eddie defends your honor, never leaving unscathed, he asks you to come patch him up at his place and you learn the secret crush you've had may have been mutual. request by @psychedelephantt (im sorry this took so long but part two will be up tonight <3)

word count 3.0k+

author's note i haven't slept since watching vol 2, that shit was intense buuuuut this part is really just the pre story to the smut in part 2 but ya girl needs sleep and i wanna focus a whole fic on the filth lmao so enjoy part 1 :) not proof read plz bare w me

warning swearing, fluff, insecurity, covered by fake confidence, reader has a praise kink fs, physical violence, sexual tension, making out, leading up to smut

Always with the feeling of immediate regret. Immediate regret of what you wore, as you've been told most clothes people with your body type wear "distract" others, immediate regret of what you ate the night before knowing that you'd wake up bloated, but the biggest regret you had so far, was the regret you felt after feeling the words "go fuck yourself" leave your lips, much louder than you intended, to none other than Jason Carver. "What the fuck did you just say to me, lard ass" Jason spoke, enunciating the last words, making sure entire lunch room knew exactly who he's talking to, as everyone grew quiet from the sudden eruption.

The blood in your veins gushing hot, short breaths and pure adrenalin making you slightly dizzy. The anger you feel is so intense that you don't even notice that every eye of the student body is on you and as per usual, not a teacher in sight. You're not one to over react about these things, knowing that kids just bully to feel better about themselves. So normally you just let the comments made about your appearance slide, especially since most are too afraid to say them at a tone louder than whispering under their breath. This time though, Jason and his goons decided to pull some kindergarten shit and trip "the fat girl". A tray full of too squishy meatloaf and watery mashed potatoes covering your chest as you fell face first on the floor, landing into the five-star meal.

You stand back up, not bothering to wipe anything from your chest as all you could hear for a split second was the laughter and gasps coming from those around you. Before you could think, as Jason was walking away smirking to the rest of the basketball team, all that could pass your lips was a crescendoing "go fuck yourself" followed by a slightly lower "you piece of shit" as you look down at the mess on your chest. High school was never meant to be this hard, and I guess it wasn't for the people with a smaller pant size than an 8, a successful school sports background and a style and personality that you could only describe as Abercrombie & Bitch. Being a girl of many labels, while none of them being nice, just puts you in the overall category of outcast.

So there you were, standing in the middle of a dead silent lunch room and not being able to think of what to say, after Jason's "lard ass" comment. He stomped over to you, snatching the front trim of the neck to your shirt, balling his fist as he jolted you forward, your faces now inches apart, bringing you up with such force you were on your toes now. "Watch what you say girl, I wouldn't wanna hurt anything more than your ego today", he spat, the words spoken so harsh you felt like you could hear them grinding through his teeth. You stared at him for a moment, both of you not breaking eye contact.

Suddenly your heels hit the ground again making you stumble back, when you felt Jason abruptly let go of your shirt as he got thrown back from a swift right hook to his jaw, making him fall to the ground. You catch your balance to see none other than Eddie Munson standing over top of the jock, beaming down with a smirk on his face. "Now Jason, you've always been a dick, but now you've stooped to threatening girls? Not a great look my friend”, Eddie spoke with a sarcastic tone as the entire lunchroom stared with wide eyes at the majority ruled "freak" of Hawkins. Jason held his jaw, and without saying a word stood up, swinging a fist towards Eddie's face, Eddie leaned back dodging the first attempted hit. His eyes not leaving Jason, but as much as he knew he could dodge Jason's disoriented hits, 4 of the other basketball players came rushing towards Eddie. "Oh shit", is the last thing he said before the players proceeded to land 3 more hits to his jaw, sending him to the ground as the rest of the team landed some heavy kicks to his stomach, back and chest.

"Stop! Get off of him", you shout, pushing one of the players while they just shrugged you off from them. You go to step in again but that's when two of the teachers, who were nowhere to be found prior, run over to players, pulling them off of the boy and shouting at them to “break it up”. You run over to Eddie, who’s holding his stomach with both arms, his eyes squeezed shut with his breaths short and fast. He’s slightly curled up, he’s still lying on the floor so you crouch down and grip his shoulder, making him jump, his eyes shooting open. “Hey, it’s just me, are you okay”, you say quickly as he looks at you with half lidded eyes. “Oh yeah, never been better”, even when this kid is bruised and bloody he still manages to get in a snide remark. “I can see that, come on let me help you”, you say as he takes your hand, slowly helping him up as he winces slightly holding his side with his other hand.

After a “stern” talking to in the cafeteria corner, they let Jason and the team off with just a slap on the wrist, can’t have the whole basketball team suspended the night before the championship game right? “Are you sure you’re alright, you want me to help you to the nurse or something?” I ask as Eddie sits and leans against a lunch table. “That’s alright doll, I’ll be okay” Eddie said with a low tone looking up at you with a slight smile. That smile combined with him calling you “doll” sent the blood rushing straight to your cheeks, turning your head shyly.

You weren’t usually timid like this, always putting on a confident exterior no matter how you feel, but you’ve had a thing for Eddie since middle school. The shaggy headed, carefree, ambitious, gorgeous boy had been your crush ever since you saw him play with his band way back. You always assumed he wouldn’t like a girl like you, since you saw the way he looked at the other cheerleaders, especially Chrissy Cunningham. You’ve traded a few nods down the hallway and awkward eye contact when you happen to be staring for just a little too long, but other than that you and Eddie were strangers.

“Eddie! Shit man, I thought you were dead for sure!” Dustin yelled running up to you and Eddie. “That shit was crazy, they really beat the hell outta you! But hey, at least you look super heroic, ya know defending y/n’s honor” Dustin said as Mike walked up to you guys, laughing along with Dustin. You had gym class with Mike and Dustin, which really just consisted of the three of you chumming it up in the bleachers for an hour and scratching up fake nurse notes so you guys wouldn’t have to run laps. You’d grown to love the two freshmen, they try to convince you on at least a weekly basis to join Hellfire Club, you always decline saying it’s social suicide, and they never miss the opportunity to remind you, you have no social life besides them. They knew you were always just making up cheap excuses to not join, in reality you just didn’t want to be that close with Eddie, if he didn’t even have the chance to reject you then you could just pretend it wasn’t meant to be.

“Thanks Dusty, that dickhead Carver always thinks he owns shit, but he really shouldn’t have put his hands on you”, Eddie shook his head looking over to you. “I’m used to it from the whole team by now, usually it’s just verbal but today I guess he was feeling spicier”, you said as Eddie tried to stand up, folding over holding his mid section the second his feet were planted. You reached down, throwing his arm over your shoulder trying to help prop him up. “You don’t look so good Ed, you sure you don’t need help?” Mike said as Eddie snickered under his breath. “Yes Wheeler, I’m all good, no need to go all nurse mommy on me” Eddie said, tossing your arm away and ostumbling over to the Hellfire lunch table, grabbing his lunch box. “I’m just gonna call it a day, remember find me a sheepy by tomorrow or it’s your ass” Eddie said making them both chuckle as he walked, more like limped, slowly to the cafeteria doors.

You look back at Eddie who was making his exit and run over to grab your bag. “Y/n, where are you going?” Dustin calls. “Um I’ll catch up with you guys later, I gotta talk to Eddie real quick” you say with a hesitant tone the boys could practically smell on you. They look at you curiously but you aren’t staying for any questions. You walked out the lunchroom, seeing Eddie making his way through the parking lot to his van. For somebody with most likely a few broken ribs, he was moving pretty damn fast. “Munson! Hey, wait” you shout coming out of the school’s side doors, running up to Eddie who was leaning against one of his most prized possessions. “What’s up y/l/n” Eddie says squinting through his fingers trying to shield his eyes from the sun.

You didn’t even know if Eddie knew your name, let alone your last. “You know you really didn’t have to do that back there, I just wanted to say thank you” you said looking straight into his big brown eyes. “You’re good darling, I needed a good ass kicking to reset me anyway” he said smiling down at your giggling face. “But can I ask you something?” he said. “Anything, yeah” you said, almost too quickly. “I didn’t wanna seem weak in front of my boys, I think they messed me up pretty bad if I’m honest, would you mind giving me a hand to patch me back up. I mean I was defending your honor after all” Eddie smirked as your heart started to pick up pace. “Uh- I- I mean yeah, I’d be happy to” you stutter, making Eddie smile. “Awesome, hop in, I have supplies at my place” he says, crawling into the driver seat as you run to the passenger.

You took short breaths, nervously twiddling the rings on your fingers. You were really in Eddie Munson’s van, driving to his house, to patch up the wounds he got while “defending your honor” as he and the boys call it. You look over and your eyes become locked on his large, metal covered hand grip the steering wheel. Still entranced as he takes a pack of cigarettes with his other hand, biting a cigarette right out of the package and tossing it back on the dashboard and scrambling for a lighter. Everything about this seemed more sexual than it should’ve, feeling your hands tense up and your breath quicken.

“Oh shit, did you want one?” he said, lighting his smoke, taking a long first drag. His voice knocks you out of your near hipnosis. “I’m good” you say swiftly while he fiddles with the radio, cigarette hanging from his plump lips, until David Bowie’s ‘Rebel Rebel’ starts playing through the muffled speakers. “This is my favorite Bowie song” you say bobbing your head while mouthing the lyrics. “You know Bowie” Eddie says, slightly condescending, not meaning disrespect, he just didn’t meet a lot of people who weren’t just purely pop fans. “Who doesn’t? You got a problem with that Munson?” you say sending a playful smirk his way. “Absolutely not, just didn’t think a girl like you could get any better” he said, making your cheeks heat up instantly. Did he really just say that? Any better? What’s that mean? Before today you didn’t even think he knew your name, now he’s talking about “girl’s like you”. Your mind was racing as Eddie sped into his dirt driveway, stopping the car hard enough to make your body jolt forward.

“Welcome to my castle” he said smiling, putting the van in park. You hop out, walking to the driver side to make sure Eddie didn’t need any help out. You two made your way up to his trailer, he opened the door, bowing as you walked in, giving you a quick “after you”. “This is me and my uncle’s place, he works nights usually, but he must be out since his car isn’t here” Eddie said picking up stray pieces of trash. “Where’s your medical stuff?” you ask. “It should be right back here” he replied walking towards the back of the trailer. You tapped your shoe on the ground not being able to get ‘a girl like you’ out of your mind. “Aha! I got it back here” Eddie called. “Last room, straight back” he calls again.

Shit, is this his room, you thought, being hit with a slight breeze from a desk fan and an overwhelming scent that you assumed was him, never having been close enough to smell him. The room smelled of cheap colon, teenage musk and a hint of apples. A weird combination, but for some reason that smell turned you on more than you anticipated. Eddie was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking through the box of bandages and alcohol wipes. You stroll over taking a good look at the cut on his cheek. “Here, let me” you say, taking the first aid kit from him, getting out the wipes and bandaids. “Thanks” he says softly, letting you clean the small cuts.

“Can I ask you something” you say, still spiraling over what he had said earlier. “Sure, dollface” He said, making you even more nervous. “Okay, so in the car you said ‘a girl like me’, what did you mean by that” you said quickly, the words sitting in the air for a moment before Eddie sighed and let out a small laugh. “Getting straight into it I see, I like that” he breathed but as you were still rubbing alcohol his open wounds. “You know I’ve known you since middle school right?” he said. “Of course I know, I thought you just didn’t remember me. How could forget someone who’s actually stayed themselves through high school” you say as Eddie smiles shyly. “Well I damn sure had the time, beings I’ve been a senior for almost three years now” he said laughing, a slight tone of discouragement laced his words. “Who gives a fuck, school sucks, I’m might have to start bribing to graduate this year” you laugh, making Eddie chuckle.

“Well, as I was saying, what I meant by that was, as long as I’ve known you, even if it was from a distance, you’ve always been so confident in who you are, you never take any shit from anybody, I should’ve known you like Bowie. You’re just confident being you and that’s cooler than anything” hearing Eddie gush about you made the heat between your legs grow and your cheeks grow flush. “You’re absolutely gorgeous too but I mean that’s just a bonus” he said looking up into your eyes as your lips separate, not believing those words just came out of Eddie Munson’s mouth. “Sorry if that was too much, I know we don’t know each other that well bu-” his words cut off by your lips colliding with his, taking him into a smooth yet eager kiss.

His lips stayed stagnant for a moment before his brain caught up with him, reaching up to cup the slight softness of your jaw. You pulled away swiftly, your eyes shooting open, staring directly into him. “I’m sorry if that was too much, I understand if you were just being nice and I took that wrong” you said quickly as he smiled, shushing you while bringing his finger up to your swollen lips. “Shh, not at all baby, wasn’t the first response I was expecting but it was just enough” he said, stealing glances of your lips while trying to maintain eye contact. “I’ve had a thing for you for a while, but typically pretty girls like you don’t like freaks like me” he said, swiping a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess we both have fake confidences, ‘cause I always thought showstoppers like you wouldn’t like chubby girls like me” you say, sitting next to him on the bed as he scoffs. “Are you joking? Why would that even be your first thought, not only is your body just beautiful in itself, even an idiot would be able to tell there’s so much more to you than just that” he says, making you smile wider than anticipated.

"You got any other wounds I just can't see or am I done playing nurse" you say looking Eddie up and down his torso. "You wanna check for me, sweet thing" Eddie says lowly, pulling his shirt off with one fluid motion. Your eyes now glued to his bruised sides but also his sexily tattooed body. Eddie looked at you through dark eyes, examining every inch of your face as you star at his chest. "You can touch baby, I don't mind" he says, sliding his hand up your exposed thigh. "Is this okay" he asks, all you can do is nod as your breath quickens, his hand responding with a tight squeeze of your plush thigh, you bite your lip trying to not reveal how eager you are for him. Your hand reaches up gliding over his exposed chest, receiving a smirk from Eddie. You were preoccupied admiring his body, so he leaned down attaching his lips to your neck, sucking so slightly to make sure you're okay with the touch before he continues.

You can't help but let out a shallow moan, tossing your head back to give him more access. He took that as a yes, increasing the suction between love bites, grazing his teeth along your skin, making the hair stand up on the back of your neck. "Still feeling good?" Eddie's now low, lusty voice asked, whispering so close his lips scraped along your ear. His breath dripping down neck to your clavicle making the heat in between your legs become too much to ignore. Eddie takes his lips away from your neck cupping your face with both of his large calloused hands. "You sure you wanna do this" he said, panting already, feeling like the air shot up 10 degrees. "Please Eddie" you whine. Hearing you say his name with such want making his jeans grow tighter, as his member twitched in his boxers. "That's all I needed to hear" he smirks, pushing you down to where you were laid flat on the bed, hovering over you before placing a wet, quick kiss on your lips.

To Be Continued... part 2

#eddie munson x gn!reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson edit #joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #poor eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 2 #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #steddie

911 notes · View notes

greenerteacups · 28 days

Note

Alright. Can we talk about this line??

"A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie remarked that he’d [Harry] seemed bigger in the papers."

This is so insightful. It says SO MUCH in a few words. Because OF COURSE the daily prophet doesn't paint Harry as he is: an innocent child. And I loved that this 'blond boy' has this double-take moment of realizing Harry is a child. He's just a kid.

This is why your writing is so incredible. You are so talented at conveying deep meaning without ever having to explicitly state anything. This line flowed seamlessly, almost like you might not even notice it, but it highlighted such an important point.

Thank you, my friend — this is a lovely comment and I'm really fond of the line you've identified. The back-to-school scenes in HP are a fun challenge to write because you've got to import three months of development apiece for each character, and also give a sense of how the world's changed in the intervening period without making anything feel too abrupt. This is both a blessing and a curse — I've often found you can do a lot with just a little, in writing as in everything else. Thank you! <3

#greenteacup asks #lionheart spoilers

26 notes · View notes

wormdebut · 1 year

Text

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE WITH ME ✨ ENJOY - “I missed him, seriously? You two boneheads got to see him? That’s a cruel joke and I for one am not having a good time, in these hallowed walls.” Eddie was pressed. It was five-thirty in the morning on a god damned Saturday and Maxine was being insufferable.

“I thought you said pretty boy was shy! I for one thought he was endearingly feisty.” Max tossed her hip into Eddies side and she shuffled behind him to get espresso from the back.

Eddie let out a quick laugh, “Are you sure we are talking about the same pretty boy? My pretty boy? He said all of ten words, maybe. But god, he blushes so pretty.”

“Steve Harrington, right?” Max called from the back as Eddie was finishing setting up his beloved pastry display. The fluffy blueberry muffins were looking especially fruity this morning, and Eddie was ecstatic. He absolutely dropped one on the floor at that though.

“He has a last name? You know his last name? How the hell did you pull that off Mayfield?” Max had the beans tucked up against her shoulder as she crouched down to grab the fallen muffin, “Jeez Ed, you don’t have to throw things to get what you want. I asked him to join our new loyalty program. You know we need a first name, last name, phone number, sexual orientation, et cetera et cetera.”

Eddie stood frozen with the stupid floor muffin, “Sexual orien—what?” He shook his head to snap out of it, “Did you say phone number? Maxine Evelyn Mayfield, did you con my pretty boy out of his precious phone number—” He finally tossed the poor muffin into the trash and grabbed the beans out of his current favorite employees hands, pouring them into the machine hopper, “For little ol’ me?” He fluttered his eyes at her and she swatted at him to get him to absolutely cut that shit out.

“Of course I did, you flaming homosexual idiot.” Eddie loved Max, she was a sister to him really, and he never saw himself as someone that would get to have more family than just his uncle Wayne. He loved Wayne deeply, but Max had started working at the grind as soon as she turned sixteen, came out to him as bisexual within the same year and they had been inseparable since.

“You flatter me Red, you truly do, gimme gimme gimme the goods.”

“Calm down, Edward. Let us get the store open and then I’ll tell you what you want to know, Capiche?”

Eddie groaned as he walked away, “Come on Maxine, at least I call you by your government name. You know Edward isn’t even that.”

She laughed again, “Forgive me, Edison.”

——

“Max, why does our fearless leader keep staring out the window like he’s waiting for someone to return home from a year long journey?” Erica was not the only one that noticed Eddie peering out into the street with eyes wide like he was a kid that lost his mom at the grocery store. Max and Erica were settled at either machine and Eddie had blown through all the guest orders in the lobby, hoping to see the current object of his affections but he had had no luck.

“Because he’s waiting for his flavor of the week to return from the Abercrombie cataloger he seemingly walked out of.”

Erica huffed out a laugh, shaking her head as she muttered a brief ‘hopeless’ under her breath.

Eddie Munson wasn’t one to get caught up on any specific man, no. He kept his options open and certainly was not the dating type, not since—he just wasn’t a relationship guy. There was something about Steve though. Was he being irrational, having only seen the man once? Abso-fucking-lutely he was, but Eddie didn’t care. He knew the people around this city, he knew which regulars he could take out for a drink, he knew who not to talk to. Steve was new, and Steve was cute. So cute.

The business was slow for a Saturday, Eddie certainly didn’t mind. He was distracted. After checking on the girls, he ducked away to the back to pull his phone out. Max had given him the sticky note that had ‘Steve Harrington’ written on it, in surprisingly neat cursive with a number underneath. He was willing to get Max whatever she wanted, after the little stunt she pulled. The ‘Loyalty Program’, god Red was genius.

Eddie: So, I’ve got some good news, and I’ve got some bad news. Always gotta go with the bad first so, Max may or may not have lied about the loyalty program. My uncle is fairly old fashioned so we don’t subscribe to that kind of thing, but the good news is I get to shoot my shot, so drinks tonight, maybe? I know a couple cool places in the area if your interested?

Eddie sure as shit wasn’t shy and he wasn’t going to pretend to be. He smirked to himself as he sent the text off, but the smirk was just as quickly dropped when he realized he didn’t even say who he was.

Eddie: Shit! This is Eddie, by the way, the manager at The Daily Grind? I honestly can’t get you out of my head, to the point that my team stepped in, so like I said, this is me shooting my shot - E

Because business was slower than usual, Eddie’s day was slow as hell. The customers were an even mix of lovely and absolute hellions. One woman asked him to blend a drip coffee with ice? He did it of course, but he sure as fuck did not want to. A gentleman tried to snap at Max and she handled it fairly well on her own, but Eddie was waiting in the wings for her signal.

One-thirty couldn’t have come sooner. Eddie absolutely beamed as his beloved best friend and assistant manager for all intents and purposes blew in with her hair up in a bouncy high pony-tail, “Eddie Baby!” she cheered and she threw her arms around his neck with a airy laugh.

“Chrissy Angel!” Eddie smiled into her obnoxiously high pony tail, “Did you catch Henderson in the parking lot?”

“Yeah he was just pulling in. Day go okay?”

Chrissy Cunningham was bubbly and fierce. Eddie absolutely adored her. She followed behind Eddie as he sauntered into the back to catch her up. He wished her well, greleted Dustin as he made his way in. Erica was set to stay with them for the next few hours, but Chris and Dustn would be fine to close up by six.

Eddie walked Max to her car, and nothing short of cackled when she wished him well with his ‘lover boy’.

“Haven’t heard from him yet, Red, but you know I will keep you updated.” She waved him goodbye as she slid into her car. Eddie found his motorcycle, that he had parked by the back door and found himself lost in thought as he drove home.

Eddie really wasn’t a relationship guy. He was twenty-three and had had one relationship, Devon had been great. He had been. They had been together for two years, Eddie was eighteen and fresh out of high school, Devon was there for Eddie when he needed affection, when he needed someone to need him. Devon was older than Eddie, twenty-two when they started dating and he had clung to Eddie, it was unhealthy at the end. The facade Devon had put on had melted away, and it just—Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts as he parked in his apartment complex. His phone trilled and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face when he saw the text from ‘Shy Boy Stevie’.

Steve: Hey! Sorry to get back to you so late. Rob and I are still unpacking our apartment. I am not at all familiar with the area yet but would really love to see you again. Where do you want to meet?

Eddie: Excellent. Meet me at Bauman’s on Braker Street at 8? It’s a date sweet thing. - E

Taglist - @gay-stranger-things @savory-babby @trashpocket @itsfreakingbats @steddiereid @lovelyscot @booksandsience @breealtair @nightmareglitter @misty-inferno @dazedandinked @child-of-cthulhu @bookworm0690 @martzja @exhibit-no-restraint @imzadidragonfly @live-the-fangirl-life @sidebarre @bejeweledbaby @stucksolangelo @eboyawstenn @daisyellsong @biatcgh @vampireinthesun @bestwifehaver @whatthemeepever @maya-custodios-dionach @krazyperson @crowned-with-stars @be-the-spark-bitch @blisschaoss @swimmingbirdrunningrock @braveangel777 @thequeervibes @eastern-wind @5ammi90 @justsomefunshit @perseus-notjackson @literallyjustarat @malachitedevil @gothwifehotchner @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @walkingaftermidnight07 @jade-joltz13 @boop369 @thegingerrapunzel @grtwdtsmwhr @angeldreamsoffanfic @stevesbipanic @kitt3ntales @micheledawn1975

if you wanna be added or removed just let me know ✨

224 notes · View notes

daisychainsandbowties · 7 months

Note

favourite books of all time? best non-fiction/fiction?

okay so this is just what i can think of right this second and i’m answering in the vein of these are my favourite books to read for the 💖💖 or when i need to feel warm or safe or whatever. i also admire & learned from their authors’ writing so. that too.

red sister and its sequel grey sister by mark lawrence (it’s gay nuns you guys like that right?)

sabriel and lirael by garth nix (for the beautiful magic system and because lirael made me feel seen as a kid)

best served cold by joe abercrombie (very fucked up. monza murcatto may have invented feral bloodsoaked girlfailures for me 🤔)

the black magician trilogy by trudi canavan (i would die for sonea no-last-name)

assassin’s apprentice by robin hobb (the whole series but this book i have read twenty times)

railhead by philip reeve (trains trains gender trains)

senlin ascends by josiah bancroft (there’s a tower and a guy who looked away for one second and lost his entire wife)

the locked tomb by tamsyn muir (self-explanatory)

the his majesty’s dragon series by naomi novik (but especially the first one. GOD 😭)

nevernight by jay kristoff (blood reasons, the prose might annoy you but it’s a fuck buddy to me)

the fifth season by n.k. jemisin (will destroy you. make you understand things about me and hands and breaking and bea in swau)

the poppy war by r.f. kuang (when i say this whole trilogy is brutal take me seriously)

she who became the sun by shelley parker-chan (again. GENDER)

on earth we’re briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong AND night sky with exit wounds by same (makes me bite)

the unbroken by c.l. clark (gay gay gay gay. haven’t read the sequel yet but i love this one)

the girl and the stars by mark lawrence (🥺🥺)

#hope this is okay anon 💖#i could probably make a much longer list and i’m gonna immediately be like ‘ah shit i forgot x’#but these are all great books #anon

23 notes · View notes

jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

Text

little situation | part 1.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader (all clearly platonic and I’m only making that note on the first part)

Word Count: 2.4k

(Series Masterlist)

The absolute last thing the Avengers wanted to see in a busted down shawarma shop was a pristine looking Nick Fury. They sighed and took aggressive bites of their food as the Director stepped into the restaurant, trying to avoid the rubble.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your fun—”

“Are you really?” Tony cut him off but Nick continued as if he didn’t.

“You’re needed back at S.H.I.E.L.D. we have a little situation involving Cap.”

“Little situation?”

“About, ye big.” Nick held up a hand at a height in between his chest and waist.

No one knew what the hell he meant. They took final bites and dragged their bodies from the chairs and followed Nick. Thor, Steve, and Bruce were already feeling less tired making the other three Avengers a little jealous as they made their way to headquarters. Nick guided them to the large conference room and left for a brief moment. When he returned, the newly formed Avengers looked at the kid tucked behind him. Your hair was tangled and matted which stood out against the small S.H.I.E.L.D. t-shirt turned dress you wore that had you looking relatively clean… and you were barefoot?

“Oh, an actual little situation. When in the hell did you get a kid?” Tony asked.

“She’s not mine dumbass, that’s where Captain Rogers comes in.”

The team turned to look at Steve who seemed just as shocked and confused. Nick pointed you to the empty chair beside Steve. You quietly walked over, hands clasped behind your back, and sat down. You pulled the chair into the table and only looked at Nick, not knowing anyone else in the room. Although you barely knew the director, but a few hours was more than the rest of the people at the table.

There were two thoughts going in the Avengers’ heads. One, how the hell did Steve have a child who was clearly too old to be right after he was taken off ice. And two, you looked absolutely nothing like Steve. Brown hair, skin, and eyes. Everything opposite the Abercrombie & Fitch poster boy.

“Miss Rogers was rescued from a HYDRA facility, an attempt at reopening the Red Room. Along with Dr. Erskine’s stolen notebooks apparently some of your DNA was also stolen, Cap. Miss Rogers is the first child to survive after birth.”

“You’re positive she’s the only one?” Clint asked, his fatherly instincts already kicking in.

“Yes. While we couldn’t recover Dr. Erskine’s files, we found their logs. None of the other children seemed to survive, inheriting some of Cap’s ailments from before the serum or their mothers died before giving birth.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “And when we say DNA…”

“Dr. Erskine ever hand you a cup not for a drug test… your silence answers that for me. We’ll gladly do a paternity test again with you here but from the swabs when we defrosted you, it’s a match.”

Nick tossed a file to Steve and pulled up the same one on a screen for the rest of the team to see. Steve flipped through it, seeing your age. Twelve. Born at the turn of the new millennium. According to the file, HYDRA picked your mother based on IQ— apparently one that could rival Tony or Bruce— kidnapping her when on a graduate trip to Russia. You were supposed to be the perfect combination of the best attributes… and then they killed your mother in front of you when you were old enough to process death. HYDRA spent years trying to break you so they could send you into the Red Room and remold you as the perfect spy. But instead of breaking you, they just made you retreat into your shell.

“Miss Rogers did inherit some of your former ailments, Cap. Partial deafness and color blindness.”

“You were color blind?” Nat asked at the same time Clint asked about him being deaf.

“Yeah, born deaf in my right ear and deutan color blindness. Made it hard to tell the difference blue and purple most times, not too bad. The asthma and scarlet fever was a lot worse.”

Steve looked back at your file and saw it was recorded that you had moderate deafness also in your right ear, which was the current side of your face he was staring at, but you were hard of hearing in the other. Your color blindness was the same as his. He frowned as he searched for an identification other than Rogers. He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to look at him.

“What’s your name? They didn’t include it.”

“001.”

Steve looked back at the table. “You’re kidding, they didn’t even… your mother didn’t name you?”

“They wouldn’t let her.”

“Do you have one you’d like?”

You just shrugged and looked at the floor before looking back up realizing you’d need to read his lips for ease of conversation.

“Is Sarah okay?”

You nodded.

“That was my mom’s name… do you know your mother’s?”

You brought your knees up and grabbed them as the tears started. Quickly you panicked and wiped them away mumbling sorry. Steve almost reached out and then pulled back, thinking it was a bad idea. You were used to getting hit by agents at the facility if you cried.

“No one’s going to hurt you here for showing emotions,” Natasha spoke up, hoping that you would hear a little bit since your head was currently buried. She knew exactly what you were going through.

You kept crying and they knew you didn’t. When your knees brushed against the table, Clint started knocking on it. The vibrations made you look up at him and he tapped his own ears, drawing your attention to his hearing aids. Clint signed what Nat had said.

“Elise,” you said looking back at Steve.

“Alright, Sarah Elise Rogers. That sound good to you?”

When you nodded, Steve seemed satisfied. They disbanded and he pulled Tony and Clint aside. Right away, Tony agreed to getting you fitted with hearing aids like Clint only in a color that worked for you. And Clint agreed to help him with sign language.

“I thought you would’ve known a bit.”

Clint was sitting outside the lab with Steve, watching Tony fit you with hearing aids.

“My mother told me to read lips and always turn to the left. She was Irish and a single mom, she didn’t want another reason for people to look down on us.”

“I’m sorry man… are you sure you can take care of a kid? Don’t tell anyone else I told you but I’ve got a small family farm, my wife and I don’t mind another little one running around. Well, older one. She beats Coop by barely two years.”

“Thank you. I don’t know if I can do it at all but I don’t think I should leave her. She needs at least one of her real parents.”

“Commendable, Cap. You ever need any help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Let’s hope I don’t mess the kid up.”

“Anything away from the Red Room is already an improvement for her.”

Tony pressed the button on your (f/c) aids to turn them on.

“How’s that… too loud?” He said as you clutched the left ear.

Tony readjusted it to account for the fact that your left side wasn’t as bad as your right.

“How bout now kid?”

You blinked rapidly and looked around.

“Should I be able to hear them outside the lab?”

“You can hear them?!”

Tony apologized when he saw how quickly you hung your head after he yelled. He had to reassure you that you weren’t in trouble and he wasn’t yelling out of anger at you but surprise. Tony left you in the lab and walked out with a set of hearing aids. He shoved them into Clint’s hand and the man automatically began exchanging his for the new ones.

“Sarah? Start talking,” Tony said at a normal level. “Clint, can you hear her?”

“No, why?”

“Turn it all the way up, now?”

“Still nothing.”

“Steve can you hear her?”

“Yeah no problem. Why?”

“Cause once I put the hearing aids on she could hear you two. Your ailments from before are like a layer on top of the serum but once peeled back she’s just like you… better watch what you say when the kid has them in.”

“Thank you, Tony. Both of you. Sarah, let’s go,” he called into the lab.

The three men watched you hop down from the table and enter the hallway, the too large shoes that had been given to you by a random agent flopping about. Tony and Clint stayed back and looked on as Steve gently placed a hand on your shoulder to guide you with him out of the building. It was the weirdest picture but if anyone could pull it off, they thought it might be Steve.

“It’s not much, but I wasn’t expecting a second person exactly,” Steve said as he opened the door to his D.C. apartment.

You two had landed from New York when it got dark outside.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled an apology.

“Nothing to be sorry for Sarah. You stay right here, get comfortable. My house is our house now.”

Steve left to knock on his neighbor’s door, hoping the blonde woman would be there and not already starting the night shift of her hospital job. A few knocks later and she opened the door.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hello Kate, um, this is going to be weird but I have a kid and her mom’s passed so she’s living with me now but I don’t have anything for a little girl. Would it be at all possible— just for tonight and maybe tomorrow morning— then we’ll go shopping,” Steve stumbled over his words.

“How old?”

“She’s twelve.”

“Hmm, let me check real quick. I’m bound to have some smaller items.”

His neighbor came back with more than enough for the night and next morning. She handed them to Steve with a warm smile.

“Thank you so much.”

Steve returned to find that you hadn’t moved from where he had left you. Still frozen in place, hands behind back.

“You don’t have to wait for me to say anything. This really is your place too now Sarah. Here, the bathroom is the middle door. You hungry?”

You nodded and took the pile of clothes to the guest bathroom. Steve started scrambling around to find something to make. He realized that even though it was late, most pizza places were still open so he placed an order for a simple large cheese pizza— half with pepperoni. Steve wasn’t sure if HYDRA had ever given you a pizza so this seemed like a treat? He liked pizza when he was twelve, still did now.

The smell alone of food could’ve lured you out of the bathroom. You were wearing his neighbor’s small zip up hoodie and old leggings. Steve sat down on the couch and opened the big box, beckoning you over to sit down and eat.

“Sarah? You’re not at HYDRA anymore, I won’t hurt you or let others hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid alright?”

“Alright.”

“You’re lying,” he chuckled when you looked up. “I used to lick my top lip too, right before a lie.”

“I’m so—”

“And we don’t have to apologize for something that’s not that big a deal or we didn’t do wrong. Listen, I have no clue what I’m doing and I’m sure your mother would’ve been a thousands times better but you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you alright.”

“Alright.”

Steve sat back, knowing you told the truth. “I have shampoo and conditioner to wash your hair, get those tangles out.”

You looked down at the pizza slice. “I already tried.”

Steve looked at your hair. It wasn’t just matted, it wasn’t completely curly. He could see straight ends and bits that didn’t look as shiny as the others. Steve didn’t know anything about your hair but he was sure that it shouldn’t look like that. You knew it too.

ASL was the only thing about you that HYDRA accommodated to— but even then you were mainly yelled at and forced to read lips. But your hair, not taken care of. Your skin and nutrition, not taken care of like it should’ve been. And they never gave you hearing aids, just forced you to strain your left ear in attempts to hear them.

“I want to get rid of it,” you said after a moment. “All of it.”

“Okay, I have clippers in my bathroom. Do you want to do it now?”

You nodded and set down the pizza. Steve walked into his bathroom and you followed closely behind. He searched his lower cabinet for the clippers. Making sure the guard was on, he plugged in the clippers. Steve moved you to stand in front of him and he very carefully glided the clippers through your hair. You watched yourself in the mirror as the damaged curls hit the bathroom floor.

Steve looked at you through the mirror and then focused back on your hair. He was so unsure how he found himself in this situation, well he knew how but it was still overwhelming. Taking care of a kid was something he had never done before. He was an only child and sure he babysitted Bucky’s younger sister before but that was with Bucky. And you weren’t his younger sister but his actual kid.

You ran a hand over your newly shaven head. It was a close cut but not completely squeaky clean bald. It felt weird but also like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Like you could start over with… you didn’t know what to call Steve. He didn’t say.

“What do I call you?”

“Um, I haven’t really thought about that. Whatever you want.”

Steve waited for a suggestion from you but you said nothing. He patted your shoulder and moved to get a broom to sweep up the hair on the floor. You stared at yourself while he was gone. Maybe it was because of how you looked but you still didn’t expect Steve to be your dad. You knew how genetics worked, of course it was more likely that you looked like your mother than your father but you couldn’t see a single bit of physical resemblance to Steve. Well there was one but right now it wasn’t too noticeable. Captain America’s genes were very strong, which was kind of the point. The one physical thing was the lighter hair. Constantly dyed a dark brown almost black, your hair was actually honey blonde like Steve’s.

“You can take the bed,” Steve said as he swept the floor. “The guest bedroom has nothing in it right now. Goodnight, Sarah.”

“Night.”

(Part 2)...

#steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fic #avengers x teen!reader #marvel fic #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader

183 notes · View notes