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pucksandpower · 2 months

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Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

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al1fers-haven · 2 months

Text

Almost Instinctual

Alastor x pregnant!reader

‼️pregnant reader, pregnancy in general, overprotective Alastor, a bit of angst, secret pregnancy‼️

Prompt: In where you, y/n, go to the Hazbin hotel for shelter after splitting up with your previous boyfriend. And try and keep your pregnancy a secret until you find a better solution.

Part 1 (you’re here!), part 2

(I am lazy and am writing this like it’s a bunch of facts and writing specific scenes…I might rewrite when I get my laptop.)

(8 weeks/2 months)

You and your boyfriend had split up about a week ago, afraid you’ll run out of money eventually you decided that instead of staying at a creepy motel with no locks, you’d move to a free-helpful option.

Of course you felt a little bad for abusing the owners kindness, using the Hazbin hotel not for redemption, but instead for shelter and food.

Charlie had welcomed you in with open arms (literally, she squeezed you pretty hard.) and even introduced you to everyone except for two who were out running around hell.

Alastor was explained to you as a creepy, tall deer man who may sound rude but has good intentions.

And Charlie explained angeldust as a ‘work in progress’ and told her a couple stories instead of describing him.

Charlie offered you the job of receptionist, claiming that husker wasn’t exactly good with the socializing aspect of it and you happily accepted. Eyes beaming at the opportunity for a job right infront of you.

(12 weeks/3 months)

You were happily greeted with nausea every morning. The morning sickness now starting to affect you more than ever, you haven’t exactly told anyone about your pregnancy and were hoping to be out of the hotel by the time you started showing.

Now working at the hotel for a bit, you noticed that probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Are you alright y/n?” Charlie peaked her head into the bathroom; a small frown on her face as you heaved a bit, nodding.

“Yup- I’m just dandy..! Mind getting me a wet towel or something love? I think I ate something bad yesterday…” Charlie let out a little gasp and nodded, running off to god knows where just to get that little thing for you.

You had actually started to get to know the patrons of the hotel more, for example. You learned angeldust was actually the pornstar you had heard about all over social media. And he adored three things.

Making people uncomfortable.

Cocaine.

And candy crush.

Husk had given you a couple of sickness remedies, saying that they would help with stomach bugs. All natural just incase you were allergic and you slowly started to warm up to him.

Charlie and vaggie had grown to be very special to you now. Their opposite personalities absolutely making you giggle everytime you hung out with them or went out for groceries.

Now, Alastor was an odd fellow. He was a bit younger than you since you were hellbotn and all but he seemed to act older than you. Calling you things like ‘dear’, ‘Cher’, or Mon biche.

Mon biche was the most common one, and after looking it up. You realized he was calling you my doe, or just doe 90% of the time.

He definetly knew. Not letting you eat any form of ‘raw meat’ that would go on your plate and even specially making drinks for you so you felt like you could participate in drinking games without suspicion.

Overall, he was a total kitten. A bit emotionally stunted in areas of course..but he never failed to brighten the room.

(Unless he was threatening someone.)

(17 weeks/3.2 months)

You started showing, not visibly with clothing on but you were still showing when you sat down.

Your closet changed a bit, from nice outfits to usually a dress you had gotten or some high waisted sweats, trying to be as comfortable as possible in your state.

Alastor had been…odd.

He had started to let you grab his arm when going up or down the stairs, which usually during conversations he’d just stand at the bottom waiting. And he now seemed like he was constantly watching you.

Husker had done the same. The two animal demons in the hotel knowing because of a certain change in smell, it wasn’t like you didn’t know it was going to happen.

Husker had promoted for just leaving you alone and stopping the mean comments, understanding that pregnant women were a force to be reckoned with. (And you appreciated that. You had been crying earlier that day for the cookie you bought not tasting like blueberry’s.)

You cried a couple times because of angel, which Alastor just stared at you as you sniffled and attempted to keep the conversation going.

You also cried about 2 days ago because Charlie bought you a pretty necklace. It was hell.

Alastor tried to be accommodating in the field of emotional intelligence but…he failed. Making you cry more times than he could count and to be honest he only cared that he did because you were quite literally an angel to everyone.

Husker asked you in private one day if Mr smiles was the daddy to that little hellspawn and all you could do was laugh and blush a bit. Telling husker that he wasn’t and that he was just acting that way because she was a single mother.

Husker didn’t understand that, Alastor never had a soft spot for women her age.

(20 weeks/4 months)

First time you let anyone touch your stomach was during this time period, Alastor did so with adoration almost. Mentioning something about how he always had a soft spot for women with children..

You two had grown a bit closer.

Husker definitely still had his suspicions about you and the baby. He really thinks is alastors with the way he had been acting.

The red demon had gone out of his way several times to get you your weird ass cravings. One day you asked for a bite of his venison and then cried because you weren’t allowed to have it

You found him coming near you more often and asking multiple times to touch your baby bump as it grew, and everytime you let him that little tail of his would wag a bit behind him. Seemingly happy with the little life growing inside you.

He got more protective as well. Way more protective. He was your puppy that followed you around basically.

(He totally got you a bunch of ice cream, or helped you out with foods and sickness with his old man knowledge.)

(25 weeks/5 months)

If you wanna talk about awkward? Everyone in the hotel basically thought you and Alastor were a thing with how weird you two were together.

You would always be caught either straightening his bow tie or dusting off his shoulders. The term doting describing the two of you around one another.

May or may have not let it slip to Charlie that ‘it’s not like that, Alastor has said multiple times he doesn’t want to prey on pregnant women.

She asked to be the godmother.

Alastor hated the thought of that actually when you brought up that Charlie might be a good fit when he was giving you a snack. A nerve you didn’t know he had.

Soon everyone knew you were pregnant and angel was absolutely infatuated with this information. Asking who’s it is and stuff like that.

(7 months)

Alastor and you were practically a thing- he would help you out a lot and in return you’d kiss his cheek or help him out with cooking.

He practically worships the ground you walk on. Foot rubs for when they hurt, running a bath for you. Even going out of his way to compliment your outfits (even if you looked downright awful that day)

He even accompanied you to return the ring your ex gave you. Along with a couple other belongings you had from him.

Alastor may or may have not been seen with you outside , and you were mentioned by Rosie the next time.

(8 months)

Alastor and you had become somewhat official, if letting a dude fall asleep on your pregnant stomach bc he wanted to means official. Then yes( you were.

After you had a talk with Alastor about why he acted the way he did around you he simply said it was almost instinctual to take care of you. Something along the lines of him also being a gentleman.

He had invited you out to cannibal town, where you met Rosie and she was absolutely infatuated with you. Asking you questions and being so lovely towards you. Even going as far as mentioning she had her fair share of labor experience when it came to giving birth!

Alastor was very pleased to hear Rosie would help you- a bit scared she would eat the baby though…

(Part two coming out about nine months and the actual baby?)

#hazbin alastor #hazbin art #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #pregnant reader #secret pregnancy #slow burn #soft alastor #deer man

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fairyysoup · 3 months

Text

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore.

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?”

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with.

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.”

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?”

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.”

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind.

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open.

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it.

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter.

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.”

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look.

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies.

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again.

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible.

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.”

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?”

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit.

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.”

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror.

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it.

Cocky bastard.

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places.

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation.

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for.

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time.

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back.

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?”

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?”

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?”

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right.

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander.

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all.

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.”

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?”

“Yeah, not too flashy.”

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up.

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you.

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven.

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck.

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?”

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.”

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat.

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more.

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather.

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same.

“Good girl.”

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume.

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling.

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.”

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours.

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.”

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger.

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes.

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down.

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.”

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it.

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #roses*#eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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sillymercury · 2 months

Text

I’m Not the Crazy One, She Is!

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Slight suggestiveness and swearing

Word count: 7.7k (idk I went a lil cray)

Summary: You weren’t trying to kill your neighbor, honestly, you were just defending yourself. But that crazy fae and her antics land you in a holding cell. Luckily for you, getting arrested turns out to be much more fun than you ever anticipated.

My face was set into a hard line as I sat on the curb outside of Rita’s. The sound of the bar closing early was clearly audible from the spot the lawman had told me to sit and not move. Patrons exited with grumbling and angry faces, some glared as they passed and I could only offer apologetic smiles. I was already uncomfortable enough without the condescending stares and occasional curses.

The cool air pushed my hair around and with my hands magically bound behind my back I was repeatedly spitting strands out of my mouth. My thin dress provided no solace against the cold stone under my ass and the unrelentingly wind was only making it worse. I was beyond uncomfortable but the civil servants didn’t seem to care.

This wasn’t fair; it’s not like I started the fight, I just finished it.

I’ve never been a fighter per se, but I’ve also never let someone walk all over me and at this point I’d had enough. The crazy bitch to my left was currently raging against the other two patrols, thrashing around and spitting on their uniform. I scoffed as she screamed obscenities and pushed the female off of her with a hard kick to the chest.

“See!” I exclaimed at the patrol that was half watching me and half watching his colleges struggle to detain the crazed fae. “She’s fucking crazy! Obviously I’m the victim here.”

His eyes moved to mine and I widened them for emphasis, he responded with a scoff of his own. “It took all three of us to drag you off of her,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “not to mention multiple witnesses are willing to testify that most of the property damage was your fault.” His eyes narrowed as he dared me to challenge the statement.

I just leaned back and kicked my legs out with a huff. A couple of chairs, tables, some glasses, some bottles, a few bystanders, and an already weak wall wasn’t enough. I should’ve thrown her into or hit her with something else. Even now, watching her childish display had me itching to go put her in her place all over again.

“Listen, I’m a cool fae. Calm and collected, I don’t start problems. Her,” I jerked my elbow into the direction of the female that wasn’t slowing down, “on the other hand, does. None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t come up to me. She was pulling my hair and scratching at my eyes! What would you have done?”

I leaned forward expectantly, I knew he agreed. Instead of confirming he just shook his head and looked away. Back-up had finally arrived and three of the four officers assisted in detaining the wild one. One of them used whatever magic they possessed to temporarily knock her out for transport. The remaining lawman approached where I was sitting and looked me up and down.

“I take it you’re the one who fought her?” I looked over at the unconscious female that was being slung over a shoulder and just nodded with a light shrug. “Can’t say I blame ya,” he responded in a much more relaxed tone than the first officer.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as he helped me onto two feet. I threw the first patrol a look that said everything I was thinking which he only responded with another shake of his head. I didn’t miss the light smile he had and in that moment I felt like I had this in the bag. I assumed I would get a warning, maybe a slap on the wrist and be sent on my way. I hoped that they would lock her up in some far off dungeon and throw away the key.

The new officer grabbed my elbow lightly before winnowing us to the station. I suppressed my groan as I took in the depressing scene. Gray walls, gray floors, gray bars that lined different holding cells on the back wall. The room was packed with multiple desks where about 15 officers sat, some with either with victims or perpetrators in front of them. Every desk though had stacks of papers that threatened to spill to the floor.

I followed diligently behind the officer as he led me farther and farther to the back. I prayed that he would stop at any of the empty desks but he didn’t stop until he reached the cells. He opened up the metal door and looked at me expectantly.

“Wait, I have to go in there?” My voice was slightly shrill and I couldn’t contain the breaths that were coming out rapidly. The cop just raised his eyebrows and nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “For how long? I have to work in the morning. I can’t be here all night!”

The officer just chuckled and shrugged, “Well I’ve got about a hundred other things on my to do list. I guess you should’ve thought about that before destroying thousands of marks worth of property and assaulting someone.”

My hands shook behind my back and I suddenly understood what made that female rage against the law. I wanted to do anything, everything to keep me out of that cell. Screaming, crying, fighting, biting… whatever it would take to keep me out of there. I knew though that none of it would work, it would just make my situation worse. Begrudgingly I forced my heavy feet to carry me into the cell, all the way to the bench on the back wall. I sat with a plop and depression marred my face as I watched the cop lock the door.

I hit my head against the wall with a groan as I thought about what led me here, my stupid crazy neighbor. But seemingly my luck didn’t run out, it was still finding ways to make the situation worse. My neighbor didn’t just live next to me, her limp body was also parked in the cell next to mine. I cursed the wall for not being solid, instead it was just a row of metal bars keeping us apart.

Eventually her body began to stir as she woke up and I mentally prepared myself. Not only for her grating voice but for the verbal abuse that would accompany it.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Morrigan called out to her slow moving family, “We’re burning nighttime!”

Feyre laughed as she hauled Rhys off the couch and hollered one more time for Nesta and Cassian. Azriel was ready, standing dutifully by Mor as he waited with her for the rest of their family. He only took off his leathers at the persistent pestering of Mor. Donning black pants and a black muscle tank, his dark shadows concealed most of him and he looked more like a black mass on two legs. Mor wore her famous color in a tight dress that flowed beautifully over her legs accompanied by a slit that ran to her hips. Feyre’s dress complimented Mor’s but in a deep blue that resembled the night sky, Rhys wore his usual tailored garb that matched the silver detailing on Feyre’s dress.

The couple approached the door and Rhys had a far off look in his eyes before speaking, “Looks like it’s just us… Nes and Cass are,” he cleared his throat before flashing a coy grin, “busy.”

“Eww,” Mor muttered Turing around and opening the door for everyone. “Whatever we’ll have fun on our own!” Mor screamed into the house and only the sound of something falling over upstairs answered her. She rolled her eyes before closing the door behind her.

The pairs made their way through cobble stone roads aiming for their favorite bar. At least once a week Mor would drag them out demanding a good time and she always got her wish. Her and Feyre linked arms as they skipped and the boys walked in a comfortable silence behind them.

“Gonna pick up any ladies tonight?” Rhys nudged his brothers shoulder as he teased, “I know Mor will. Wouldn’t want you to have to spend the night listening to everyone else enjoy themselves.” Rhys chuckled as he pondered all the different ways to get Feyre out of that form fitting dress. Azriel shook his head, already knowing where his brothers mind had gone.

A small smirk snuck its way onto his lips, “I suppose I could indulge.”

“Ooo hoo hoo!” Rhys jested, “My brother, the fox.” A low chuckle left Az’s lips as he just shook his head again. The light air that surrounded themselves dropped when the girls stopped skipping to take in the scene in front of them.

All of the lights in Rita’s was on and crowds of people were formed outside. There were multiple patrols going in and out of the bar and some of them were taking statements from the bystanders. Some of the individuals were with medics, either being bandaged or given ice to sooth wounds. Azriel switched gears in the blink of an eye, going from easing going brother to spymaster as he detached to scope the scene.

“What the hell!” Mor practically screeched as she pushed through the crowded street, heading into the pub. Rhys and Feyre shared a glance that conveyed their confusion and worry before following Mor inside.

The place was a wreck. Multiple tables were broken and shards of chairs were strewn about. Wherever there wasn’t wood chips there was broken glass and the stench of the alcohol that covered the floor attacked their senses upon arrival. The wall that separated the entry way to the hall looked like it had been chopped up with an ax and Rita was behind the bar surveying the scene with distress.

“What happened?” Mor asked after rounding the bar and taking a defeated looking Rita into her arms.

“Bar fight.” She said simply, “I’m going to have to shut down for the rest of the week. Some of my best bottles are now in puddles on the floor, and that alone’ll take a month to get a new shipment in.”

Mor looked pissed and Rhys’ expression wasn’t far behind. To see his families favorite oasis in disarray and people of his court injured had redness creeping up his neck and threatening his face.

An officer strolled in and bowed to his high lord and lady before addressing Rita, “We’ve taken multiple statements and taped off the scene. There’s not much more we can do at the moment but we’ll be back to collect damage report.” Rita nodded understandingly but Mor wasn’t having it.

“Not much more to do?!” Her voice was loud as she screamed, “Look around! Look at this place! This… this is a crime!” She was irrational at the moment, she obviously didn’t expect the officers to clean up the scene but she wanted- needed- something to be done.

“Yes…” the cop blinked before straightening and clearing his throat, “it is. We are taking this very seriously. The suspects are already in custody so there isn’t really anything else we can do.” He seemed nervous as he remembered who he was talking to. His eyes darted between a flabbergasted Mor and his high lord, Rhys just nodded and that seemed to calm him down before he practically ran away.

“I am going to kill whoever did this,” Mor seethed, her hands shaking. Rita was her friend and this was her favorite spot in the city, she felt as though the crime was done specifically to her. “I mean- what? What are we going to do?”

Rita just shook her head but Rhys’ attention was redirected when Azriel materialized next to him.

“Bar fight, between two females. Subject A attacked subject B and B used her powers to fight off A. 3 bystanders were injured and by the looks of it,” Azriel keen eyes raked over the room before turning back to Rhys, “thousands in damage.”

Rhys let out a heavy sigh before placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Let’s go. I want to deal with these females myself.” Azriel nodded at his brothers words and there movements were halted.

“Do you want me to come?” Feyre asked, stepping over broken chairs and around puddles to reach them.

Rhys’ eyes softened as he took in his worried mate, her wide eyes scanning the scene for the hundredth time. “No, stay here. Do what you can to help and try to comfort Mor… and Rita.” His eyes danced over to Morrigan who was walking around the hall waving her hands and still screaming, she looked more distressed than Rita did. Feyre nodded and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, offering Az a supportive smile before making her way to Mor. With that the men shared a determined look before exiting the hall and making their way to the station.

At this point I was hitting my head against the cold wall repeatedly, not hard enough to hurt myself but enough to drown out the nagging from the cell next to mine.

The crazed female, Gala, had woken up and immediately began screeching. She pulled and tugged on the cage door and verbally assaulted any officer who passed. Her attention eventually shifted and she was now honed in on me.

“You selfish bitch! You couldn’t just let me have one night. One peaceful night without your presence! You had to show up and ruin everything! And now, I’m locked in a cage like some wild animal because you can’t control yourself!”

I didn’t want to, but I snapped, “You are a wild animal! I’m the one who doesn’t deserve to be locked up! You might be too dense to remember but you attacked me, I didn’t even know you were there!”

Gala began screeching again claiming that I was put here to ruin her life and I can’t help but indulged in her childish behavior. Something about this female irked me to my core and soon I was partaking in the screaming match through the bars.

The officer was who was unlucky enough to have his desk placed closest to the holding cells stood up so quick his chair fell over. He whipped around and glared with bloodshot eyes, “Shut up! Both of you! Or I’m adding disorderly conduct to your already long lists.”

Gala scoffed at that and I mimicked the sound, “Once again,” I said exasperated, “she started it!” The officer didn’t say anything else but a pointed finger came through the bars. His finger shook with his barely contained rage before he looked to Gala who was mumbling about police incompetence and gave her a finger as well. He turned around and quietly picked up his chair before going back to the gargantuan stack of papers on his desk.

After sitting back down I hit my head against the wall one last time shaking my head. All of the other ways the night could’ve ended mocked me as I closed my eyes.

“Don’t look so forlorn, not when it’s your fault,” Gala was determined to keep the argument going as she harshly whispered into my cell. She had her face squished between bars as she glared at me and continued her verbal lashing.

I counted my deep breaths as I tried to control the urge to reach through the bars and wring her neck. Images of me slamming her face into the bars repeatedly was my only solace as I tuned out her low shrieking. Even when she whispers she’s still incredibly annoying.

The venom kept spewing from her mouth until the same officer that brought me in came and unlocked my cell, I shot up and prayed for freedom. He unlocked Gala’s cell too and had the mind to hold her arm, “There’s someone here to see you two,” his tone was borderline teasing and he led us away from all the desks. “He says he wants to handle this himself.”

I followed quietly behind as nerves overtook my body, was it the police chief? Was someone in Rita’s family a judge who wanted to dish out the worst punishment they could? Cold sweat threatened my brow as we made our way into a private office.

Gala was shoved into a leather chair and I stumbled into my own. The magical binds on my wrists made it hard to sit comfortably and I shifted around while the leather squeaked. The officer closed the door with a smile and at that Gala turned in her chair, glaring.

“Can you stop? Even your shifting is annoying me.”

“I’m annoying you?” I felt blood rush back to my face for the umpteenth time, “Well imagine how I felt when you grabbed my hair and started scratching my face!” Your voices were low but the venom was still there.

“Don’t act like you didn’t have it coming. You go out of your way to ruin my life any chance you get, showing up at Rita’s tonight… I know what you’re trying to do.”

My eyes widened and realization hit me, “Your crazy. You’re just fucking crazy.” That was the only answer. Gala was out of her fucking mind, that’s why even when I breathe she cries abuse.

The word crazy seemed to spark something and the screaming match started up again, this time in a lower tone. Something about the formidable air in the office kept us from getting too loud; but you can still scream a whisper.

I couldn’t even hear what she was saying over my own words but I knew it was bullshit so I continued to say all of the nasty things that popped into my head.

Our voices were haulted when a cool black mist came over the room, obstructing everything. I couldn’t see an inch in front of me as darkness encompassed the room and my entire body. It wasn’t mist, it was shadow, and it clung to me like a second skin. The anger was replaced by fear as I tried to determine what was happening, what had stolen my sight and dropped the rooms degree.

Eventually the shadow cleared and suddenly someone was on the other side of the desk, two someone’s.

The High Lord of the Night Court and his Spymaster. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the power rolling off them in waves, pushing me further into the chair. They were the last people I expected to see, and the last people I wanted to deal with. There stoney expressions conveyed the anger that was rippling through them.

Rhysand sat poised in the large chair, narrowed eyes studying me and Gala while Azriel stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest with an emotionless face.

Normally I would drool at the sight. Two of the three most handsome men in Velaris, staring me down. Rhys’ perfectly carved face set to impose intimidation and Azriel… I’d seen the spymaster a few times in passing, but seeing him up close was a different story.

His high cheekbones that contoured into a perfect jaw, his Nubian nose that sat perfectly straight above plump lips, hazel eyes that shone through shadows, and a low taper fade that danced across his forehead lovingly. He was the embodiment of beauty, perfection in fae form, awe personified. I knew I should be scared, shaking where I sat, but something in the hazel warmed me, soothed me. I forced myself to look at Rhysand so I could have the right mind of being scared, and it worked.

He stared at us for a few minutes and the tension in the air grew, Gala was crazy but no crazy enough to lash out in front of her high lord, not yet at least. We both sat uncomfortably in the silence and now it was her leather chairs turn to squeak.

“So,” Rhys began, picking up the paper that was laid in front of him and looking it over, “Disturbing the peace, public intoxication, assault, aggravated assault, battery, criminal mischief, theft, resisting arrest, evading arrest, assault of an officer, intentional infliction of emotional distress, reckless endangerment, disorderly conduct, obstruction of justice, trespassing, vandalism, and last but not least hate crimes.” He laid down the paper and I couldn’t help but gape at the list he rattled off, there is no way I was being charged with all of that. Especially not the assaulting an officer or evading arrest, I know that was Gala but hate crimes? They can’t possibly believe I fought her because she is a lesser fae.

“This is quite the list you’ve racked up,” he spoke again his eyes zeroing in on me. I just looked down, ashamed. I wished my power was to reverse time. I would’ve never stepped foot into Rita’s if I knew it would land me here, a meeting with my high lord who seemed determined to dish out terrible punishment. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves.”

I just shook my head, finding my glittery heels very interesting.

“I do,” Gala spoke up, my head snapped to her and I saw a disgusting determination on her face. “I shouldn’t be here! I should be getting medical attention, therapy, a protection detail! I am clearly the victim here!”

I knew it didn’t help my case but I couldn’t help my eye roll. By the looks of it, I was the one in the wrong. I had a couple marks on my face that probably wouldn’t bruise as well as minor scratches around my eyes. Gala on the other hand, had bruises and cuts all over her exposed lilac skin. Her silver eyes were bloodshot and one was swollen with green and dark blue hues, a cut lip, and a nose that suffered a gnarly break.

This was bad.

“Alright…” Rhys started slowly before glancing at the paper once more, “Gala is it?” She nodded fervently, “Since you’re the only one with something to say… tell me what happened. And don’t lie to me.”

Gala took a shaky breath and I almost groaned at her theatrics, “I have been so stressed, you know, I work really hard, with children, not easy work. But I decided to go to Rita’s, grab a drink. I’m a grown woman, you know, I wanted to let off some steam. Then she,” she pointed a crooked finger in my direction as she had some how shimmed her bound hand in front of her. As I looked I wondered if it was always like that or if it was crooked because I broke it. “She followed me there. She’s obsessed with me, you know, always doing whatever she can to make my life hard. She’s my neighbor, you know. always pestering me and my pets and plants. She’s unrelenting.”

I made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a gasp, if anyone was unrelenting it was her. Rhys sent me a harsh glare and the shadowsinger stepped forward, a warning.

I slunk back into my chair and I’ve never seen Gala look so happy.

“Well she followed me to Rita’s, and I didn’t feel safe. I mean she’s always sneaking around doing things she’s not supposed to, you know. As a matter of fact she has- well had- a baby hippogriff. Poor thing didn’t survive, she probably killed it. But those creatures are illegal in this court, you know,” Rhys nodded and hummed along, I just threw my head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling. I’m going to rot in jail.

“Anyways so she was being unruly and loud and that dress, I swear this girl would do anything for some attention. Well I went over there to ask her to quiet down, I wasn’t the only one getting annoyed with her, you know. But when I touched her shoulder she turned around and started screaming, I put my hands up because I didn’t want her to hurt me or anything, you know. She just lost it, screaming, hitting, it was absolutely insane.

She picked up a chair and whacked me. She threw some glass at me and tackled me into the shards. She threw me through a wall! This woman is a danger to our city! A danger to the night court- hel- a danger to all of Prythian! This woman belongs in a cell with no way out!”

By the end of Gala’s tale I couldn’t help but stare, my mouth was practically on the floor. He explicitly told her not to lie and yet she had the gall to do it anyway. If I wasn’t facing persecution from the most powerful man alive I would’ve gave her another black eye.

Rhys hummed, processing the story, his violet eyes turned to me. They were swimming with contempt and I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me. I forced tears to the back of my eyes knowing tears would only egg Gala on. “Still having nothing to say?” His voice was deathly calm.

“Yes- no!” I cursed the nerves that had my brain scrambled, I needed to calm down before I made things worse for myself. I took a deep breath before looking up again, my eyes caught Azriel and for a brief second something flashed across his face. His eyes got a far off look that matched the high lords. The conversation that happened between them was brief and when the high lord zeroed in on me I felt like the decision was made before I could even speak. I was guilty.

“I did hurt her- bad. But, I didn’t start it. I swear I was at Rita’s first, I didn’t even know she was there. I was drinking with my friends and this guy was looking at me, and I was looking at him, and then well we were looking at each other so I didn’t even notice when she came up to me, not until she tapped me on the shoulder. She was yelling about my dress, calling me horrible names. At that point the dude had walked away so I was already pissed when I told her ‘I’m not doin this with you tonight’ and when I turned around she grabbed my hair. Yanked me down to her level and bop bop!” I jerked my shoulder to try and insinuate a punch, “she was doing my head in and so I grabbed her wrist and tried to remove her from my hair and when I turned she started scratching at my eyes-“

“Liar!” Gala stood up and screamed at me.

“No! It’s true and you fucking know it,” I hissed at her. She opened her mouth to yell again but words didn’t come out when Rhys let out a low growl, accompanied by an unmistakable look. She was receiving the same the same warning I got earlier.

Rhys nodded at me and I continued, “she scratched my eyes and I shoved her off of me, that was when she fell into the table. My powers are… interesting so the table broke when I pushed her into it. She got up pretty quick after that, she grabbed a chair and started running towards me with it so I grabbed it before it hit me and I hit her with it. Mind you I had a couple shots in me so I was ready, I turned the chair on her and broke it over her. I thought that would be enough but she grabbed a glass from the table and threw it at me. I know those glasses hit some other people but I think when she missed me it upset her because she was screamed and ran at me-

“You threw the glass at me! I was screaming running away!”

It was my turn to growl at Gala, she only sneered before shutting up again. “She ran at me and I dodged her and she ran into another table, that’s how the second table broke. So I grabbed a bottle off the bar and when she came at me again I broke it, on her face. I really thought she would stop after that but she grabbed a tray off the bar that was full of glasses and threw that at me, some of it hit me and so I threw another chair at her. She was under the chair and tackled me to the floor, scratching at my face again. I hit her and it knocked her off of me, she grabbed the broken bottle and she looked like she would kill me so… well I picked her up and threw her. That’s what put the whole in the wall, and really, that’s when I thought she was done for real.

So I turn around and go to grab my things because I’m trying to leave but she grabbes one of those big bottles from behind the bar and threw it.”

“Bitch!” Gala was up again this time moving for my face, “You stupid whore! You know-“ her voice was cut off when the ground beneath her feet began to shake, the whole office was shaking.

Rhysand braced his hands on the desk and glared at Gala, “We heard your story, now I want to hear hers. If you interrupted a fourth time… you will regret it.” Galas eyes were wide and she was smart enough to look afraid. She just nodded dumbly before sitting down, her silver eyes darting between the angry high lord and the unyielding spymaster. I waited for Rhys to nod again before continuing.

“It hit my head and at that point, it wasn’t about defending myself, I just wanted to to beat her ass. So yes I did run at her and slammed her into a table, kinda roughly so that’s how the third table and those chairs broke. Anyway so yea, I get to her and that’s when I just started hitting her, some guy tried to pull me off but I think I hit him. I really do feel bad about that, I’ll pay for whatever medical treatment he receives. Anyways that’s when the cops dragged me off of her, three of them I think, they detained me and when they went to try and detain her she freaked. Started fighting the officers, she threw another bottle at the short one and they dragged both of us out. She fought them the whole time, kicking and screaming at the cops.”

When I finished the high lord just stared face still blank, I felt like I needed to explain more, pleade my case further. But he spoke before I could, “So you guys are neighbors?”

“Yes!” Me and Gala both said at the same time, the dirty look we gave each other also happened at the same time.

“Yes,” I repeated, “She has hated me ever since I moved in. Actually I’m pretty sure she’s the one who killed my hippogriff.”

Gala snorted, “I wouldn’t go near that thing with a ten foot pole! They’re dangerous creatures and they’re illegal here you know!”

“Yes, I know,” I mocked her and the fire that was in her eyes in, Rita’s returned.

Gala jumped up to scream, “You insolent bitch! You think you’re above everyone but you ruin lives for fun!”

“How did I ruin your life?!” I was standing now too, “I never did anything to you!”

“Lies!” She screeched, “you know exactly what you did! Sneaking around my garden when I’m not home!”

I, once again, gaped at her. “Seriously? That’s what this is about!? Because I watered you plants when you were out of town?!”

“Trespassing!” If my hands were able to I would’ve covered my ears, her tone was dangerously high. “You trespassed on my property! Not to mention you tried to steal my cat, probably to feed it to you hippogriff!”

“What?!” The whole situation was utterly insane to me, “I was trying to be a good neighbor! And your cat followed me home. Probably to get away from you.”

Gala was seething, “You don’t talk about my cat! You stole him after you broke in! Broke into my garden and ruined my work!”

A dark chuckle fell from my lips, “I ruined your work by keeping your plants alive? You’re fucking crazy,” I turned to the high lord to try and find some support, “You hear this? She’s fucking crazy!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Gala screamed as she shook from rage.

“Come on bitch. I’ll beat your ass- again!” She ran at me only to hit an invisible wall and falling onto her behind with no way to brace herself.

“Enough!” Rhys voice was commanding now and the primal part of me coward at the sound. He was visibly angry. “This all started over a garden?” His voice held an incredulous tone and I couldn’t blame him, the story was ridiculous.

“It started before the garden, she’s had something against me since ever I moved in.” My voice was calm as I spoke, I didn’t want to anger him more.

Gala on the other hand didn’t seem to care much, she rose from the floor before continuing her rampage, “She moved into my quiet neighborhood, and my life has been hel ever since! Always singing loudly in the morning. Having friends over at night. Prancing around in skimpy dresses. Growing plants that I haven’t been able to grow just to rub it in my face! You should see it, she’s always flicking her perfect hair and smiling at everyone who looks at her. I can’t stand it! All the males coming to her doorstep trying to be with her, females flocking to gain a friendship with her. In all my years no one has ever tried to befriend me! I hate how everyone loves her! I hate it! And I hate her!”

I just blinked at Galas out burst and suddenly everything clicked. She was jealous of me. I stepped back and slumped into the chair at my knees. I just shook my head, all of this over some petty insecurities.

“Nell!” Rhys called and the officer that escorted us poked his head in, “Can you escort Y/n here back to her holding cell? I’d like to speak with Gala in private.” Nell just nodded, he moved towards me but I stood up and met him half way. All the anger was lost to me as I followed him all the way to the back of the station.

I sat down in my cell and my eyes were trained on the floor, the tears I was holding back finally found there way out. Nell locked the door and when I didn’t hear him walk away I looked up. “I heard everything, and off the record,” he leaned in, “I think she’s crazy too.”

I offered him a sad smile before looking back down. She was crazy but she was hurting, I knew her jealousy wasn’t my fault but I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I was trying to be helpful, living my life as happily as possible but for some twisted reason I was hurting her. Tears continued to fall until a small whisper of a shadow nuzzled my face and wiped them away.

The entire scene that played out in front of the brothers was no less than absurd. Almost comical, Rhys might have laughed if he wasn’t playing the role of the dutiful high lord. But the most interesting part was what Azriel had whispered in his mind. The girl, the main perpetrator, was his mate.

The second your voice hit his ears, Azriel almost fell to his knees. Your voice was melodic, soft and sweet, reminiscent of a summer breeze. The only thing he could do was petrify himself, to keep from falling in front of you, kissing your minor injuries, and tearing the throat out of the female who spoke ill of you.

He saw the tears threatening your eyes as you stood up to move out of the room. Every part of his body screamed at him to comfort you, hold you, inform you that you aren’t responsible for another fae’s bitterness.

When you left Rhys interrogated Gala further, listening to her wild tales of all the times you did something terrible. It truly sounded like you were just living your life and for some reason she hated that. She called you names, names that threatened Azriels resolution. He wanted to rip the spiteful bitch to shreds and finish what you started. He couldn’t lie, he felt some sick pride while listening to your side of the story. He knew if he was there things would’ve ended much worse for her.

Rhysand listened diligently, nodding and humming as Gala went on. Azriel slightly resented his brother for not striking her down where she sat. Rhys eventually cleared his throat, indicating that he was ready to speak. “So Gala, do you remember the first thing I said to you?” She nodded dutifully, “When I told you not to lie to me?” She nodded again, more unsure this time. Rhys just gave her a saccharine grin, “You wouldn’t mind if I checked, would you?”

“I- well-“ she shifted under the intensity of the stares, “It’s just my thoughts are my own, you know… I would like to keep it that way.” Her confidence wavered and suddenly she was unable to make eye contact.

Rhys chuckled lowly, “Look Gala, I just want to help. That- that wretch has made you suffer enough. Let me in; and I’ll take care of all of it.”

A deep growl came from Azriel his tight grip on his shadows loosened, causing them to swirl around him menacingly. Rhys knew the reaction was for him, he would react the same to hear his brother speak such words about Feyre. Galas eyes widened, taking the scene as a threat to her. She nodded lamely and with permission Rhys slipped into her mind.

Azriel tried to reign in his shadows, struggling against their will, it wasn’t until they relayed your voice he relaxed. They carried soft whispers to his ear and a deep breath pushed from his mouth at the sound.

I sat in the cell watching the lone shadow dance around for me, it seemed it was attempting to cheer me up. I chuckled lightly at its antics. An officer walked past the cell and it darted into my hair, hiding. This naughty shadow wasn’t meant to be here, I wonder if my power is what called it or if it came on its own free will. I decided to channel my power, hone it in on the male who the shadow belonged to. After a few seconds of concentration, I was connected.

“Hi,” I whispered and it circled my head, running across my face before landing on my knee.

Hello, hello, it whispered back. Beautiful, so so beautiful.

I laughed airily, “Thank you, so are you.” The shadow whirled around at the compliment, happy to hear praises. “Listen, I’m innocent. You have to believe me, I didn’t start this. I didn’t do anything to her.”

Innocent, innocent, it chanted and I let out a breath. The shadow believed me, I wondered if it was a reflection of its master or if it had its own will.

“Can you tell your master?” I questioned, leaning down, “Can you convince him?”

He’s here, it whispered back and I snapped my neck up to find none other than Azriel. He was leaning against the bars giving me a devilish smirk. He looked beautiful, his tan arms crossed showing off rippling muscles as his eyes glanced over me lazily. I pushed my thighs together, feeling hot under his gaze.

He wants you too, the naughty little shadow whispered, causing a blush to creep up my cheeks as I looked away.

He chuckled lowly as he turned to face me completely, his forearm met the bar above his head as he leaned in. The ravishing sight had me licking my lips, something his smirk told me he caught.

“Cool power,” he mused, his eyes shone with mischief as he held my gaze.

Busted, the shadow whispered and I rolled my eyes at it.

“Very cool, and very useful.” My voice was confident despite the shaking under my skin.

He huffed a laugh before leaning back and crossing his arm over his chest once more. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He does, the shadow outed him and it was my turn to laugh.

“I’m guessing that’s where you got the strength from, you channeled someone else’s power to throw that poor female into a wall.”

“Oh please,” it was my turn to lean back. I crossed my legs slowly and I bit my lip as his eyes tracked the movement. “That bitch had it coming.”

“Ooo,” he purred and the warmth between my legs spread to the rest of my body, “Naughty little girl, don’t you know? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” His head cocked to the side and I mimicked his movement, a smirk of my own forming. “Bad girls need punished.”

I slowly uncrossed my legs and pushed myself up, moving towards him. I was hot, burning under his gaze. Everything tingled as gave into some intrinsic need that command I be closer to him. I pushed my chest against the bars and my low cut dress showed off my cleavage. His eyes lowered to exactly where I knew they would. The shadow danced excitedly through my hair as if it too loved our proximity.

“And will you be personally handing out my punishment?” I made my voice sickly sweet, conveying an inappropriate innocence. I looked up at him through my eyelashes and batted them sweetly.

A low rumble left his chest and I hummed at the sound. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Leaning in he whispered, “I don’t think anyone else would do it properly.” His eyes raked the entirety of my body and I thanked the mother for putting on my most flattering dress. The double entendre coupled with his hazy eyes had me ready to tear apart the steel and pounce.

“Promise?”

His scared had gripped the bar so tight his knuckles turned white. Looks like I’m not the only one ready to tear through steal.

Suddenly he leaned back and crossed his arms again, smirk still evident. A second later Rhysand and officer Nell were at the cell door, and Rhys was looking at me with a pleased look that only garnered confusion.

“Where’s Gala?” I looked around but she wasn’t in the station and I didn’t see her exit the office.

“Gala’s not going to be a problem for you anymore,” the simplicity in his words was slightly troubling. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Gala, not anymore at least. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer. Rhys noted my concern, “Nothing bad. But I looked through some of her memories and- what she felt for you, it was completely irrational. She needs help so we’re going to get her some. Very far away.”

I let out a breath which was followed by an airy chuckle. I leaned my head against the bar and my chuckle turned into a full belly laugh. “Thank gods, she was fucking crazy.”

Rhys smiled as he waved his hand and my magical bonds fell. My hands wrapped around my own wrists soothingly and I stepped out of the now open door. “There’s still the issue of all the damage Rita’s suffered,” Rhys cocked his brow, interested in what I might say to that.

“Whatever it is, I’ll pay it,” I made hands that conveyed that of a promise.

“The damage reports come to around 4,090 gold marks,” officer Nell responded, his coy smile ever prevalent. I made an O shape with my mouth and rocked on my heels back and forth. That’s about 6 paychecks, without factoring the need to pay rent or buy food.

“I’ll pay it,” Azriel said simply. I whipped my head around to look at him, on the cusp of disagreeing. “Well you’ll pay it, it’ll come out of your check; when you come work for us.”

My shock was evident on my face and my mouth opened and closed lamely before I mustered up a “What?”

“Your powers,” he clicked his tongue as he stepped next to me, close enough for our arms to brush. “They could come in handy, far more handy for us than they do at some desk job.”

I shook my head as I processed everything. How did Azriel know where I worked? I suppose that’s dumb, he’s a spymaster and I told the police earlier. But was he really able to offer me a job, on Rhysands court?

I looked to my high lord for confirmation and he just smiled, “Way more handy than having you behind a desk,” he shoved his hands in his pocket with a shrug, “plus we already know you can fight.”

I laughed at that and my hand met my head as I mulled it over, I would be stupid not to accept. I knew my powers were unique and I always wanted to do more, I just never knew where to start. “Sure, I never liked my job anyway.” I tried to play it off cool but my soul was bouncing on the inside. The sneaky shadow seemed happy too as it whirled around my head and down through my fingers.

“Sounds good,” Rhys clapped and turned to walk with Nell, “Oh,” he looked over his shoulder, “Be sure to apologize to Rita.”

I brought my hand to my forehead offering a salute, “Yes sir!” He smiled before placing a gentle hand on Nell’s shoulder and walking away.

A giggle stole from my mouth as I clapped my hands over my heart and turned to Azriel, he had a pleased look on his face. I decided in that moment I would do anything to keep it there. “Well, that all worked out nicely.”

“Lucky you,” he purred, before tilting his head down and whispering, “Not lucky enough to escape your punishment though.”

The darkness returned to his eyes and my whole body lurched, begging to be punished right here, in front of the whole station.

I hummed as I wrapped my hands around his strong forearm, pushing onto my tiptoes and leaning into his ear. “Don’t hold out on me shadowsinger.” I giggled as I pulled back and bounced towards the door. On my way out I felt some more shadows, sneaking up and brushing against my thighs before coming up to whisper to me.

Bad, bad girl, they said. I just smirked as I pushed out of the door into daybreak. Who knew getting arrested could be so exciting.

A/N: I didn’t plan on writing this but I got the idea and since it’s my day off I went for it :p

If you guys like it I would be sooo down to do a part 2??? Maybe I’ll be brave enough to make a smutty 2 :D

Anywhooo my requests are always open so don’t be shy ;)

As always, if you made it this far… I LOVE YOU<3<3

Masterlist

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suguann · 2 months

Text

Possessive!Geto who pretends he doesn't care when he overhears that a new high-paying customer comes to the club every Friday to watch you specifically perform on stage, knowing he can’t really do anything about it unless a patron breaks the rules printed on a neon sign above the bar—No touching the dancers unless you're tipping—even if he’s the one in charge.

He’ll smile and nod, shaking hands with big spenders with sleazy smiles in the VIP lounge while his eyes find you from the other side of the room as you climb into another man’s lap.

He can’t stop his jaw from clenching when that same customer tips a month’s worth of rent every week or asks about private shows even though you don't do them. How he notices you smiling prettily for this customer, eyelashes fluttering with stars in your eyes to match the glitter on your cheeks before you walk off stage toward the dressing rooms.

Sometimes you play the part of making a lonely man feel wanted too well.

Possessive!Geto whose hand tightens around his glass tumbler, watching the man who’s been coming to see you (now twice a week) slip a thick white card into the top of your stockings. The fact that he touched your thigh with his dirty hands irks Geto the most.

In times like this, he wishes he had never come up with the rule about keeping your relationship a secret—so nobody thinks I’m picking favorites—because regret is a thick pill to swallow.

When you walk up to his office later, Geto wastes no time by dragging you down onto his lap, trailing his nose down the slope of your neck where your soft-smelling perfume is strongest and sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat for everyone to see.

You’re still wearing those cross-stitch stockings—the feel of them under his hands making him halfway hard—and he yanks the bodice of your dress down just underneath the swell of your breasts to get rid of the thought of another man touching you.

“B-but, Suguru, we’re at work—”

“Let me enjoy these pretty tits, huh?” he growls before sucking a nipple into his greedy mouth.

You whine his name, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

The blinds to his floor-to-ceiling windows are open, but it's tinted glass so nobody can tell what happens behind locked doors. Except, when he glances toward the busy club below, he wishes everyone in the building could witness what it looks like for you to fall apart under his hands—a personal show you put on just for him.

Only him. His fingers hook inside you to feel you tight and hot around him as a reminder.

Possessive!Geto who has enough one day after that customer asks for another private session—this time, he goes to Geto directly.

It’s a busy night, and every dancer works the floor. Well, almost.

You’re kneeling between his spread legs, spit dribbling down your chin, whimpering while trying to open your throat for him.

He brushes your hair away from your face, watching your mouth messily slurp around his cock under his desk—his jaw is slack, and his other hand clenches on the armrest of his chair. “So good—fuck, baby—so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his top teeth catching his bottom lip.

His head tilts back when you eagerly fill your mouth with him again and again until he feels you choke, making his thighs flex under your hands. Geto’s thumb smooths an arc across your cheek.

“There you go,” he huffs. “I love that little mouth—”

There’s a knock on his door, and he feels you panic, moving to pull off his cock. But the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Your nails bite into his skin, tears prickling your lashline as small distressed mewls escape your lips.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he hisses. “Not unless I say so.”

Another knock echoes in his office.

“Come in.”

The customer with the too-shiny tie and a penchant for slipping thousands into your g-string opens the door with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye, sauntering into the room like he owns the place. “How about that deal—”

Whatever he’s about to ask is lost on Geto because his ears are ringing when he feels you swallow around him, and his balls draw up tight against his body, and—

Possessive!Geto who grunts when you moan around his cock as he cums down your throat, his lips twitching at the look of shock on the customer’s face.

“I’ve heard your deal,” he says eventually, glancing down at your glazed eyes and wiping away what little mess escaped your mouth with his thumb. “But she’s not yours to take.”

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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yanderenightmare · 10 months

Note

can you expand on your idea of bully ! Tsukishima from haikyuu??? please, it sounded delicious uwu

Haikyuu!! IMAGINE

Tsukishima Kei x darling

TW: NSFW, dubcon, exhibitionism, "fingering in public"

DINKERBELL

“Tch- look at you sitting here like a bookworm~”

His words snuck up on you from behind, making you suck in a gasp where you sat, concentrating in the quiet library with a pen in your notes and your nose in a textbook – shrinking in your seat under the mean glare of the librarian who told you to hush.

“Who’re you tryna fool, huh?” Tsukishima crudely continued in spite of it, gripping the back of your chair while leaning over – his lips brushing the shell of your ear while he whispered. “Everyone knows you’re just a pretty pair of tits on legs- tch, no one expects there to be any actual brains in here.”

You pursed your lips with furrowed brows and rose from your chair, casting a sour look up at him through the slim glasses he looked down at you through – his face soft but with a sly smirk curling his lips.

You didn’t have time to humor him, you thought while gathering your books into your bag – this assignment wouldn’t figure itself out, no matter how hard you wished it would.

“Aw, come on~ you know I'm just joking~” He stopped you – snatching the textbook out from your flimsy grip and lifting it higher than you could reach.

“It's not very funny, Kei.” You sulked. Halfheartedly grabbing after your book, knowing you wouldn’t reach it either way.

“It’s funny to me.” He replied with a cock of his chin. “Besides, it’s not really my fault you make yourself such an easy target.” Smirk spreading while he glibbed, lazily lowering the book again with eyes giving you a patronizing leer. “You need my help, right?”

You bit your lip, shifting between looking up into his knowing eyes and the heavy calculus book weighed in his palm – then the assignment on the desk. Thinking about how long you’d sat there, pulling on your hair and chewing your pen, stuck on the same equation.

You gave a defeated huff, sitting back down in surrender – and he offered a soft chuckle, pulling up a chair right beside you, opening the book to the right chapter.

Your pout never dropped as he started tutoring – staring at the formulas he pointed to with worried eyes, twiddling your pen unsurely with a growing storm of hopeless confusion festering in your head.

You felt close to crying when his arm went from resting on the back of your chair to slipping between you, hand brushing your thigh – traveling beneath your skirt slowly, soon with fingers stroking the warm fabric of your panties.

“Kei…” You whined lowly. “Not here…” Begging with bashful eyes fluttering shyly around the library, terrified that anyone would see.

“You seem distracted… Maybe you want me to tutor you in something else, hm?” He ignored you, keeping his hand tucked between your thighs even as you tried closing them – running his long fingers up and down, teasing your slit through the thin cotton, smiling once feeling you get damp. Despite acting all cute and demure, you’re always so easy.

“We’re in the library, Kei...” You protested, keeping your voice hushed – cheeks heating as your breath flared, trying to keep your hips still.

“Yeah? What better place for you to learn something new?” He said playfully, not bothering with lowering his voice like you as his finger hooked around the trail of your panty and pulled it to the side. “You just need to stay quiet. Shouldn't be hard for someone who never has anything worthwhile to say anyway.”

“Tsukki-” You nagged with an insisting whine, rubbing your knees together to keep him away. Embarrassed and nervous and now hot and bothered – you choked on your heart, praying no one else in the quiet library had taken notice of the two of you.

“Spread wider.” He ordered, unbothered by your concerns – making you yelp with a strict pinch to the inside of your thigh when you didn’t obey. He clicked his tongue. “I told you to keep quiet- I'm not going to detention all because your dumb mouth couldn’t figure out how to shut up.”

You only whimpered with another breath, giving in to his wishes – sinking your teeth into your lip while opening your legs with a quickening heartbeat.

“There you go- good dummy~” He praised, now with a finger diving through your wet slit, up between your swelling pussylips to rub against your perky clitty.

You moaned under your breath, feeling lightheaded and fuzzy and warm. Withholding further sighs and lusty sounds by biting into your lip, making them come out as petty whimpers instead. Thighs quaking where you fought to keep them open despite the burn in your loins telling you to clamp them shut tight to ride the pleasure that soon washed through you.

“You know… it's okay to be stupid as long as you’re useful in other ways.” He teased – his eyes set on your expression, watching it curl in bliss as you soaked his fingers with slick. Offering a curt chuckle. “And I can think of plenty ways I want to use you.”

He wiped his fingers on your panties and pulled them back in place, patting your cunt in kudos before getting up.

You were left softly blinking, catching your damp breaths while slowly coming to – enough to see him packing up.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a rush. The half-finished assignment spread on the desk sobering you up – enough to make you pull your thighs back together and send the worry back into your hopeless eyes.

“I gotta spell everything out for you, don’t I?” He sighed, acting exasperated before a grin crept up his face like before.

He bent down until his face was but a hairs length from yours, one big hand laid flat on the textbook on the desk, balancing him as he curled a finger under your chin.

“You and I take this assignment back to my place- I finish it for you, and then…” He paused, drumming his fingers on the pages while giving his teeth a quick lick. “I finish you right after.”

You bit your lip in turn, watching him pull his bag up on his shoulder while lifting the book for you to take.

“Sound good?” He asked then, waiting for you with a raised brow.

Smiling once you took the book in both hands with a cute nod to your head.

“Then hurry it up, Dinkerbell.”

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere tsukishima #yandre kei tsukishima #yandere kei #yandere tsukishima kei #bully tsukishima #tsukishima smut #haikyuu #yandere haikyuu #haikyu smut #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima smut #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukki smut #tsukki x you

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kingkunigami · 8 months

Text

This man needs to leave me alone, I can’t think😭

Warnings: 18+, public sex, fucking in your childhood bedroom, Oliver is obsessed with eating pussy, Oliver is a menace.

Pairing: Aiku Oliver x f!reader.

Word Count: 0.8k.

Oliver doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.

It’s almost as if the word doesn’t exist in his vocabulary, as he’s pawing at your ass and pulling your panties to the side. Never mind the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a packed bar, patrons all around you as his fingers brush through your messy slit.

“Come on, baby,” He gives you that shit-eating grin and you swear you could smack it off his face as he presses a calloused finger against your puffy clit, “At least your pussy’s fuckin’ honest, I can feel her dripping for me.”

It doesn’t matter if you argue back, complain that you’re in public and he can survive until he gets home— Oliver always gets what he wants.

Which is why he managed to get you.

He doesn’t care if you’re getting ready for work, slipping into a fresh pair of tights as you slide them up your thighs. His hands already poised and ready as he presses you over your vanity, a shrill rip sounding through your bedroom as he tears straight through. Pushing his throbbing length through the gaping hole to press against your slit, a satisfied grunt vibrating deep in his throat when he feels you hug his cock.

“I’ll be quick,” He groans, fucking into you with swift, sharp thrusts but it still doesn’t mean you make it to work. Stumbling into the office an hour late with his cum still nestled between your thighs.

You can try as hard as you like to push his head away after he tries to settle between your plush thighs when you’re trying to video chat your friends, messy stubble tickles the supple skin as he mouths at your clit.

“Not now, Oliver.” You push at his brow as he latches on to your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

“Just mute yourself,” He groans, letting his tongue drag lower as it prods against your tight hole, “Or don’t, you know I don’t care.”

He even has the gall to blame you for it, it’s not his fault you have such a pretty pussy— why wouldn’t he want to devour it?

He’s especially a menace when he finishes a match, dragging you into the showers even as you’re trying to bat him away. Pining you to the cool tile as he works his frustrations out on you, unbothered about who sees and hears as your head lifts over the stalls. Leaving the venue with your skin dewy and damp hair a mess, a clear indication of what you were both up to inside.

“Tell your pussy to stop being so pretty, then I wouldn’t want her so bad.” He’s unbelievable.

It doesn’t matter if your poor little cunt is sore from the previous nights activities, or that you tell him you’re dirty. It only spurs him on more as he breathes in the scent of you, committing it to memory as he drags his tongue through your folds.

But the problem is you’re in your childhood bedroom with your parents down the hall. Certain he’s attempting to kill you when he suggests just letting him have a quick taste, promising that he won’t be long. Which we know is another big fucking lie.

He’s got your legs strewn over his shoulders as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved, even your hand over your mouth to keep quiet is no match for the debauched sounds of him lapping at your messy sex, practically slurping your essence into his eager mouth as you try to keep him quiet.

“But she needs it, princess. I can feel her clenching around me.” He’s insufferable as he continues to delve his tongue inside your fluttering walls, nosing your clit as he works you towards your climax.

You think you’ve found salvation when he makes you cum, your desperate cries of his name muffled by your hands as he works you through your climax. Fingers dragging against your ridged walls as he tongues your sensitive clit, eyes staring up at you with mischief and intent as he keeps going.

Your thighs clamping down around his head to try and push him away does nothing but goad him on, his strong palms grip you tight. Fingers dipping into the plush skin as he parts your thighs like the Red Sea, leaving you exposed for him as he continues his meal. Dragging his tongue from your clit all the way to your tight asshole as he does as he pleases. His face glistens with your release, your slick drooling down his chin as he gives you a smug grin. Reaching up to wipe the back of his hand along his mouth to clean it off before lapping it up with his tongue.

Oliver is used to getting what he wants, when he wants. Especially when it comes to you.

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #aiku smut #aiku oliver x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut

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havecourage-darling · 1 year

Text

Employee of the Month // Eddie Munson

Prompt: enemies-to-lovers, “the employee of the month gets a free dinner to a fancy restaurant and you both fight to win it until it goes too far and oh shit, I think I love you but everything is falling apart.”

wc: 24K (don't even ask)

tags: miscommunication, cursing, misunderstandings, idiots in love being idiots in love, female reader

Masterlist

YOU groaned the second you walked into the store and heard the sounds of Nightmare on Elm Street playing on the television. “Isn’t it my turn to pick the movie?” You asked, walking past the counter and into the back. Precariously balancing your coffee and breakfast sandwich on the ledge of the lockers, you started pulling your jacket off.

“Well, if you arrived on time, your Grace, you’d have been able to,” Eddie’s grating voice filtered in through the swinging door.

Gritting your teeth, you closed your eyes and counted to ten. It’s illegal to murder. You’d go to jail. Your mother would cry if you went to trial. His body would be too heavy to drag into a ditch. The blood would stain your favorite shoes. Dustin would never forgive you. You hadn’t helped stitch his body back together only to turn around and kill him now.

“I am on time, shithead, you’re just always early,” you hissed.

“It’s been literal seconds and you two are already fighting?” Robin groaned from where she had her face buried into her elbow at the counter. You shrugged on your vest, put your backpack into the locker and slammed it shut.

“He started it,” you said defensively.

Eddie turned, hair flipping like he was some goddamn heroine in a movie, and shot you an incredulous look. “Did you not just come in, metaphorical guns blazing?”

“It’s my turn to pick the movie!” You insisted. And it was. You always picked the movie on Mondays. Always.

His brows furrowed, as if confused by your genuine anger. “Then pick the movie! The TV has an eject button or did you need me to help you learn how to use it?”

A small ember lit in your chest like it always did when you were around his infuriating presence. “Need I remind you that I’ve worked here longer than you have, Munson?” You huffed, grabbing an armful of the returns without looking and walking around the store. “Some of us graduated the first time around.”

Eddie snorted, the barb falling short. “You’ll need to find a new insult, Lightning.”

The condescending tone rung throughout the air. “Do not call me that,” you hissed, whipping your head around to glare at him.

He held up his hands and didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I didn’t give you the nickname Superstar.”

You hated it when he called you that. It always sounded so patronizing. “Have I ever told you how much I hate you?” You grumbled, making sure to clip his shoulder with your own as you passed him.

“On a daily basis,” he retorted, whirling his arms in the air to keep his balance.

Steve sighed as he walked in and saw you both glaring at each other. “It’s been less than an hour, how are you both already arguing?”

“He started it,” you grumbled again, turning around and started to shelve the returns.

“He started it,” Eddie mimicked, yelping when Robin smacked him. You started in the far back left-hand corner and did what you always did when you were on shift with Eddie – you ignored him.

A half hour into shelving, and only midway through your coffee, you heard Steve groan loudly. Robin’s head popped out from the aisle behind you and she sighed. “Keith incoming,” she alerted you all, everyone rolling their eyes. “Oh shit, he’s coming with a suit.”

“What?” You asked, hurrying around the corner to join her. Catching sight of the senior supervisor, one of the execs in suits who show up once a few months – if that – you frowned. “You think we’re being shut down?”

“I hope not, this place is a shithole but it’s a paycheck,” Eddie grumbled, starting up the computer and pretending to look busy.

“Good morning, everyone,” Keith said, uncharacteristically polite as the entrance door swung open.

Hiding a laugh behind a cough, Robin and you nodded. Keith looked like a small child who’d gotten dressed in his parent’s working clothes.

“We’ll be in my office,” Keith said through his teeth, shooting you all a look as the suit disappeared through the door.

Robin turned to you instantly. “Oh shit, do you think we’re actually getting closed down?”

“Honestly, at this point, that job down at the grocery store is looking more appealing,” you sighed.

Steve, on the other hand, sputtered. “I don’t! This might be a shit job but I still need the money,” he huffed. “Driving you people around is expensive.”

Robin rolled her eyes and you shot him a look. “I drive the other half of your kids, so don’t even look at me.”

“They’re not my kids!”

“Well, they became mine through you so, what’s that say?” You asked, joining him behind the counter.

“That you and Robin wouldn’t leave well enough alone at the mall,” Steve huffed.

Robin whipped her head around. “If it wasn’t for us, you and Henderson wouldn’t have cracked the code!”

“I took a punch for you,” you said, elbowing him.

Steve shook his head but you saw the smile building. Much like Robin’s entrance into the party, you’d been hired at Scoops Ahoy when Starcourt opened as a part-time employee. Also, like Robin, you’d been hesitant to trust the self-proclaimed reformed Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. You’d known Robin, your next-door neighbor, for years. Despite the suspicion, you’d become pretty close friends. There was something about surviving a near apocalypse that bonded you all together. Especially considering his band of kids had welcomed you in with open arms.

“Demobats ate chunks of my skin off, you aren’t special,” said Eddie, tone – once again – grating on your skull.

Grinding your teeth, you ignored Steve’s pointed look and did what you did second best – shot him a withering glare and pretended he didn’t exist.

Unfortunately, your newfound friendships had led you back to Eddie Munson a few months ago. Despite fighting off those demented demobats with him in the Upside Down, and the way your heart had dropped to your feet when you fought to save his life, your distrust for him had only deepened.

“You both have to get over it eventually,” Steve grumbled under his breath. You reached out, quickly, and pinched his bicep. He yelped, brown eyes widening pitifully, and you glared at him.

Eddie and you hadn’t always had this…animosity. Steve had managed to break you down eventually, pulling the reason why from you after a summer party when you’d gotten plastered.

You had never thought of yourself as a spiteful person, but some things weren’t easy to get over. And what Eddie Munson had done to you was one of them. The worst part, was him acting like it had been your fault. That dumb, big-eyed, stupid son of a –

“Nice to see you all,” the suit said, coming out Keith’s office suddenly. You all mumbled incoherently, straightening when Keith glared, and watched as they walked out.

Not five minutes later, Keith sauntered back in with a smug look on his face. “Apparently, we’re the best performing Family Video in all of North Indiana.”

“Cool,” Eddie said, the nerd actually looked interested. You’d already known the store was doing better – considering Family Video was the only video store around for miles after the earthquake. The three of you had struggled enough to warrant bringing Munson into the mix.

“What does that mean?” Robin asked, always voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

Keith snorted. “That means, ducklings, we get to reap some perks.”

“Perks?” Steve asked, eyes brightening. Keith ignored him and turned to the rest of you.

“For starters, the suits are instating a best employee of the month,” he said, “excluding me of course because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

You coughed, putting a hand up to your chest to really sell it, and attempted to hide your laughter within the sound.

“And what do we get if we win?” Eddie asked.

Would Family Video shell anything out? You wondered. They barely managed to replace your vest for free after you’d shredded it to shit from your adventures during spring break.

Keith leaned in, failing spectacularly at building tension, and smiled. You only just barely refrained from flinching back at the sight. “Get this, the first employee of the month gets a free dinner to Osteria da Fortuna. I get a free dinner obviously, because I’m the senior manager…”

His voice trailed off in your mind, your eyes widening and back straightened. Osteria? The fancy ass Italian restaurant downtown? Holy shit, you’d been dying to go there ever since Heather went with her boyfriend and told you about the desserts. She’d said it was the best tiramisu she’d ever tasted in her life.

By the time you’d snapped out of your daydream buffet, Keith had gone into his office again.

“Oh my God, I need that dinner. It’s the only thing that’ll help recover this month – shit, this year,” you said to Robin, her eyes softening. She’d been well aware of how shitty your life had been of late. “I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“Uh, everyone wants to go there, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his voice patronizing, “it’s the best restaurant for miles.”

You glared at him but he did what he did best, continue to annoy you.

“Besides, we’ve all had a shitty year.” He flipped his stupid hair again and you clenched your hands. Why did he always have to twist your words around? You hadn’t meant that yours had been worse than anyone else’s. You were well aware of how shit of a spring break ’86 had been for a lot of you.

“How no one has ever choked you is a mystery to me,” you said, matter of fact. A brief image of your hands around his neck made you smirk.

Eddie turned to glance at you over his shoulder. “I won’t say no if you’re offering Princess,” he winked.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. Ignoring his jab, and the sudden rage in your chest, you walked into the breakroom to grab your cold breakfast sandwich. Heating it up in the tiny microwave you grabbed your bottle of water before stalking out again.

Keith leaned against the counter, reprimanding Steve about something, and his nose twitched. Eyes drawing towards you, they narrowed and you felt nervous. Shit. Keith had never cared when you ate and worked but you definitely didn’t want to piss him off as you started the race towards that dinner.

“Holy shit I haven’t eaten since last night I’m starving,” Keith said instead of admonishing you.

The idea popped in your head and before you could think twice, you offered Keith the wrapped breakfast sandwich. “Do you want it? I’m not that hungry,” you said, begging your growling stomach to stay quiet for a while.

You saw the appreciative glint in Keith’s eyes when he took his first bite – and by the scowl on Eddie’s face, he had too.

“Thanks Lightning, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, “you always were my favorite. I’ll be back later losers.”

With a flurry, Keith was out the door and the only noise for a few moments was Freddy Kreuger killing Glen. Then, your stomach roared to life.

“Not hungry?” Eddie echoed flatly.

Robin, however, stepped in before you could start another fight. “Well played you, well played,” she said, offering you a high five.

“If I give you my entire paycheck, will you take me with you when you win?” Steve asked, eyes pleading. It didn’t take a genius to know there was no way Keith was choosing Steve.

“As if,” Robin snorted, “she’s taking me.”

You watched them bicker amicably, laughing when Steve gaped at Robin after a low blow and barely registered Eddie next to you.

“I’m gonna win the dinner,” he said, nonchalantly.

Eyes darting up to his, ignoring his cologne wafting over to you, you glared at him. “Whatever, Munson.” Jesus, is that all you could come up with? What the fuck was in that cologne?

Eddie, however, just smiled. “Let the games begin.”

Where the hell was everyone? You mused, walking into an open, but empty, store. Considering the schedule posted yesterday – Eddie, Robin, and you were set to open today.

Spinning your keys on your finger, you walked back into the locker room and tossed your stuff inside. Pulling your vest out, you shrugged it on and went to fill up your water. Once you were by the cooler you realized the back door was propped open.

What the?

You quietly stepped forward, eyes darting around looking for who was out there when you heard Keith’s voice.

“Dude, are you sure?” Keith asked, voice tinged with excitement.

Eddie’s soft voice filtered in through the crack. “Absolutely. I had extras and you know we’re cool right? I thought – why not ask Keith if he wants to take them off my hands.” Narrowing your eyes, you crossed your arms. You knew that tone – that was Eddie’s ‘I’m a bad liar but no one can tell,’ tone.

Keith stepped into view and you watched him take the Ziploc bag from Eddie’s hand. You bit your cheek to keep from cursing.

Joints.

Of course Eddie was going to start sucking up too. Because there’s no way he couldn’t let you have this – why would he? He’s been a pain in your ass from the start. What the hell could you give Keith that one upped free weed? Fuck, you needed to get creative.

There was no way in hell you were letting Munson win this fucking dinner. At this point, it was a matter of pride.

Scrambling to the front of the store, you started your morning to-do list with fervor. Robin stumbled in, looking still half asleep, she motioned to the back and you barely nodded in her direction.

A few minutes later, Eddie sauntered out. Grinding your teeth, you shifted your shoulders away from him so you didn’t have to look at him directly.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop you know,” Eddie said eventually, hopping onto the counter to your left.

You felt a flash of embarrassment at being caught but you carefully stomped it down. Without flinching, or hesitation, you lifted your eyes to his and quirked your brow. Leaning in slowly, you watched his eyes widen and his mouth part. You waited a moment to speak, eyes drawn to the way you were sure his brown ones had flashed down to your own mouth. Just a little closer, the tiny – stupidly intrusive - voice in your head echoed.

Blinking away the thought, you smirked. “It’s illegal to sell drugs, you know,” you said. Eddie gaped at you, clearly not expecting that, and huffed a moment too late.

Swiveling in your chair you turned to the computer, indicating that you were done speaking and you’d taken it as a win.

Not one to ever let you have the last word, “It wasn’t a sale, it was a gift,” he said.

You hummed, just as petty. “I’m sure Hopper would love to hear that explanation,” you said agreeably. Everyone knew that after El and Joyce, you were Hopper’s favorite.

Eddie grumbled and slinked off towards the returns. Internally pumping your fist, your win was quickly extinguished when Keith came out. “Alright I’m off until tomorrow. Don’t forget to tell Harrington to make sure the box is shut this time,” Keith said, with a weird grin on his face, and turned to Eddie. “Thanks again man, I really appreciate it.” He winked and you had to practically bite a crater into your bottom lip to keep from gagging.

“No worries,” Eddie said, smug expression radiating from the back. You could hear his stupid unsaid words. Your turn, Lightning.

You scowled. God, even imaginary him was unbearable.

“What the fuck?” You muttered to yourself as you opened up the store. “Where the hell is everyone?”

This time, the entire store was dark. You went around quickly flipping the lights on and checked the time. I’m on time, you thought, checking the backrooms. Your morning shift was scheduled as it usually was, an hour after opening, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

Shit – that never happened. Eddie was always on time.

For a brief second, you wondered if something had happened to him. Anxious fingers already reaching for the phone, you realized you didn’t know his number. Keith would have it, right? Were you ever allowed to look at employee records? Where the hell did Keith keep employee information anyway? Spiraling, you glanced around you one more time like you’d accidentally missed him in the store.

Calm down, you told yourself, Eddie was probably just lazing around like he usually did.

He’s never been late to work, your mind reminded you, especially not your Tuesday morning shifts. Tuesdays were Steve’s day off – Robin always joined you after school at 4PM and helped you close. The both of you would bicker the entire morning about his movie pick, argue about who was shelving returns faster, and usually eventually draw a tentative truce with the shitty coffee from the kitchen.

Despite your vow to never say it out loud – you knew Eddie took work seriously. He was a massive asshole but he was weirdly earnest about this stupid video store. Yanking the phone to your ear, you dialed a number you did know quickly.

“Hello?” A groggy voice answered.

Without preamble, and with a pitch high enough to rival Robin’s, your words stumbled out your mouth. “Steve, I need you to call Eddie. It’s ten thirty and I just came in and had to open the store and he’s always here on time Steve. Always. It’s the most annoying fucking thing on the planet how punctual he is. Something had to have happened on the road or like, I don’t know but-”

“-wait, wait, I just woke up, what are you talking about?”

Annoyance surged through you. “Eddie didn’t show up for his shift!” You hissed into the phone.

“Shit, really?” Steve asked a little shocked despite the sleep clinging to his voice.

“Yes, really! I had to open the store when I showed up a few minutes ago.”

Steve suddenly went quiet. “Fuuuuck,” he said, now sounding completely awake, “is today Tuesday?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck, I totally forgot,” Steve groaned, “Munson asked me to cover his shift.”

You chose to actively ignore the relief that bloomed in your chest. “Jesus Christ Steve,” you sighed, the worry draining out of you and making you feel lightheaded.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry! I can be there in like five minutes-” a loud crashing sound made you wince and lean away from the receiver. “Ouch,” Steve groaned pathetically.

Biting back your laughter you shook your head. Steve Harrington was undoubtedly, not a morning person. “Hey, it’s fine. Tuesday mornings aren’t exactly rush hour over here. Take the morning off, I’ll be fine until the afternoon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Harrington, I’m sure. I owe you one anyway,” you rubbed a hand down your face, suddenly exhausted.

“Thanks dude, I’ll be down in a few hours, I’ll bring you coffee,” Steve said gratefully.

“From the good place!”

Steve laughed but promised to bring you the largest cup of coffee they had.

The morning, predictably, was slow. You spent the first half of it shelving returns and the second half of it assisting the odd customer that made their way by. Right as the latest man walked out the door, you caught sight of Keith leaning against his car. Groaning, you straightened and tried to look like you weren’t bored out of your mind.

Right as he started towards the store, you watched him chuck the butt of a joint towards the side. Keith had a dumb smile on his face and yesterday’s interaction slammed into you. Scowling, you smacked the enter button on the keyboard a bit too hard.

“Morning,” Keith drawled, the scent of weed wafting over to you. Grinding your molars, you could practically see the dinner slipping from your fingers.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying and failing to sound upbeat.

“Where’s Munson? I need to thank him again for – a favor he did me,” Keith ended lamely.

You opened your mouth to let him know what had happened but you hesitated. Shit. As of last year, the suits had established a new rule about swapping shifts. They all needed the manager’s approval. If Keith was here asking for Eddie, he hadn’t approved the swap. Steve was on thin ice considering the rule was put in place because of him.

An idea sprouted in the back of your mind and you chewed on your bottom lip. Was it too far? Eddie’s smug expression taunted you for a moment before you shook your head.

“I don’t know actually, he hasn’t called and wasn’t here when I came in,” you said, making an exaggerated notion of checking your watch. Gasping a little dramatically, you put a hand up to your chest. “Oh wow, I hadn’t even realized he’s two hours late! I’ve just been so busy here with customers,” you added, smiling dutifully and completely ignoring the empty store.

A small frown formed on Keith’s face but he shot you an appraising look before nodding. “Good job, thanks for keeping us in shipshape. You’ve always been reliable.”

Shipshape? You cringed at his wide, and weirdly sincere looking smile, before offering a weak one yourself. “Yes sir.”

Yes sir? Jesus you were laying it on thick.

Keith preened at the term and sauntered out the store without another word.

You really should’ve known better than to assume Eddie wasn’t going to try and get back at you.

“Are you fucking kidding me Munson?” You screamed, kicking the front door open so hard that the frame rattled.

Eddie stood behind the counter, eyes glinting, and you could practically feel his skin underneath your hands as you smothered him with a plastic bag. Smug fucker.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget to see the change in schedule?” He asked with his stupid smirk on his face. Seeing red, you had a brief moment where you considered launching forward to actually kill him.

Picking a happy medium, you picked up a nearby box of Twizzlers, you launched it at his head and he ducked, shooting you an incredulous look. “I just got yelled at for thirty minutes by Keith,” you said, launching another box of candy. “I didn’t give you a fake schedule making you miss your shift, Eddie. You’re the one who swapped without telling anyone.”

“I told Steve! Who told you!” Eddie argued, eyes flashing.

Putting your hands on your hips you shot him a glare. “Yeah, which is still not allowed!”

“Oh,” Eddie said, his tone dripping with incredulity. He huffed and stomped over to you. “Get off your pedestal, Lightning, don’t act like you give a shit about store rules.”

Stepping closer, you felt your arms brush as you poked his shoulder. “I’m not saying I do, but what did you want me to do? Get you both in trouble?”

“Not lie would be a good start!” Eddie shouted, poking back at you. God, he was infuriating. And why the hell did he always smell so good? “You saw an opportunity and you went for it! I was just evening out the playing field.”

You laughed incredulously. The audacity of this idiot. “Right, and you giving him your weed was what? You being kind?”

Sputtering for a second, you crossed your arms to avoid the visceral instinct to smack him.

“Whatever, the point is we’re even now!”

Even? How the hell were you even? “Munson if you think we’re even, you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”

At that, he raised his brow. His eyes darted over your face, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips. “Yeah? Alright then Superstar, you want a war?”

“Bring it on,” you hissed, stomping off into the backroom.

Flipping the sign on the door around to closed, you sighed in relief when the last customer drove off.

“I’m going to go change!” Robin called out, disappearing into the backroom. Steve already had his Westley costume on, black mask and all.

With a twirl and outstretched arms, he asked you what you thought. “You look great Steve,” you said with a smile. “Is Robin Buttercup?”

Steve snorted. “No, that really wouldn’t help the dating rumors. She’s wearing something with Vickie I think,” he said. “Nina is going in the red outfit.”

A soft knock to the front door had you both scowling and you walked up to the glass intending to wave away whoever it was. “Oh, it’s Nance!” You called out. She beamed at you as you opened the door and handed you a small bag. “Ugh, thank you. You’re a life saver!”

“Of course!” She grinned, her Grease costume looking great. “Jonathan’s in the car.”

You waved towards his car and smiled when he waved back. “What are you supposed to be?” Eddie’s voice behind you practically echoed. Steve started his explanation and you rolled your eyes when you saw that he was dressed like Tommy Lee. Predictable.

“So, how’s that going?” Nancy whispered, nodding towards Eddie.

“It’s fine,” you said, avoiding her eyes and shifting your weight to your other foot.

Nancy’s eyes narrowed at him, her loyalty coming off her in waves. “It’s okay, really,” you assured her, “we have an unspoken pact not to bring it up. It makes everything easier. Besides, we all basically went to war against Vecna together.”

“Yeah,” she said, hand going up to play with her hair, “have you…told anyone else about what happened?”

Glancing back at Eddie, your eyes darted down to the bag in your hands and you shook your head. “Only Steve.”

“Why-”

“It’s mortifying, Nance. He’s made how he feels about me abundantly clear,” you said, gritting your teeth and trying to ignore the old hurt that bloomed in your chest. “I’m going to go change before we’re late, okay?”

Slipping past everyone, you found Robin messing with her hair.

“Vickie isn’t going to know what hit her,” you said, smiling when her anxious hands stilled.

“Really? I don’t look stupid?”

“Definitely not,” you assured her. “Help me into this?”

Robin grinned as you quickly changed. The one piece was easy enough to slip into. “You’re going to blow Blake’s socks off,” she said, helping you tie the back of your costume as you pulled the wrist pieces into place.

You shivered a little as you pulled the pantyhose up higher, the cool air quickly causing you to break out into goosebumps. “Remind me why we chose this again?” You asked, already shivering a little. You’d all been invited to Halloween Party by a mutual friend of yours – costumes required. It’d been a stroke of good luck that you had all been scheduled for today’s closing shift. You were actually pretty sure that Keith was still locked in his office after his impromptu visit this afternoon.

“Because Jenna’s house is going to be really hot and you said you’d rather be cold than sweating,” she reminded you, “besides, Blake said he was dressing up as Batman, right?”

You nodded, wiggling into your red boots and wincing when the zipper caught your skin.

“Maybe you’ll win the costume contest,” Robin waggled her brows and you knew she was thinking of the bottle of tequila Jenna had promised to the winners.

Blake, one of your neighbors, had asked if you had any plans for Halloween last week. He was quiet, sweet, and had eyes so blue they almost looked violet. So, you’d taken the chance and invited him along to the party. Checking the time, you winced. “Shit, he’s going to be here soon,” you pulled at the bust one more time before turning around to face Robin. “How do I look?”

Robin’s eyes widened. “Whoa, holy boobies,” she said, hand going up to your chest. You swatted her hand away and rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to assume that’s a good thing,” you laughed when she grinned mischievously. “What?”

“Oh, this night will be fun,” she said, adjusting her cape motioning towards the front door. “Please, Princess Diana of Themyscira, you first.”

Grabbing your hoodie and bag, you made sure to double check that the back doors were locked and shut off the lights. You had barely stepped out when you heard a choking sound. Glancing up, you saw everyone’s eyes on you. Feeling a little self-conscious under the attention, you froze.

“I told you,” Robin said quietly and you barely resisted the urge to turn and swat at her. Your eyes, of their own traitorous volition, shifted to Eddie. His eyes were wide, a little awed, and were trailing down your body. You couldn’t help but smirk when you realized he was checking you out.

“Holy shit, you look great,” Steve said, drawing your attention away from Eddie’s expression, his eyes on the rope you’d attached to the belt, “I’m glad the belt worked out!”

“Thanks,” you said, remembering how Steve had helped you spray paint it gold, “I owe you one.”

Everyone talked amongst themselves, double checking that they had everything before leaving. Feeling someone’s eyes on you again, you glanced up to see Eddie standing a few feet from you. “You look good,” Eddie said, his voice soft, “the costume looks just like her.”

Fighting the pleased, slightly giddy, smile that wanted to break out into your face at his compliment, you shot him a small smile instead. “Thanks, Steve and Robin helped me pick it out,” you said, eyes darting down to his chest and only now realizing that he was shirtless underneath his vest. Suddenly, you felt your mouth dry up and you crossed your arms to keep from coughing. “Uh, your costume is pretty good too.”

“Thanks,” he said, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, “Dustin and Steve helped me paint on his tattoos.”

You couldn’t help it, your eyes glanced down at the new tattoo across his stomach. “Did Tommy Lee have a demon tattooed onto his chest?” You asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “It looks really well drawn.”

“That’s uh,” you watched, transfixed, as his Adam’s apple bobbed the closer you got, “my real tattoo actually.” His eyes caught yours and the both of you froze, having gotten much closer than you realized. For a brief, insignificant moment, you couldn’t help but think how much nicer brown was than blue.

“What the hell is going on?” Keith’s voice silenced the rest of your group.

Stepping forward, you automatically went on damage control before Steve or Robin sputtered out something that got you all more in trouble. “We’re just leaving, Keith,” you assured him, “I double checked the back and made sure everything was locked and cleaned.”

You continued to prattle on about your closing checklist, including a few admin tasks that needed his sign off on that you’d left on his desk for next week. Glancing up at him, hoping you’d saved your asses from a reprimand, you realized Keith wasn’t listening. His eyes were south of your face and you barely resisted the urge to gag on sight.

You need this job. You all need this job. Don’t break his nose, don’t do it. If you punch him, you’ll all but hand Eddie that free dinner. You’d probably break your hand. Hopper might be called. Inhale. Exhale.

Fucking pervert, your mind screamed one last time before you buried the thought and your discomfort. Using his distraction to your advantage, you crossed your arms and motioned to the front lights. “Are you okay to close the front on your own?”

At Robin’s cough, he sputtered back to life. A splotchy, disgusting, blush rose on his face and you fought the need to snap. “Of course,” Keith answered eventually, his leering grin making you immediately uncomfortable. “You always think of everything, good job. I’ll take a look at those forms on Tuesday.”

Nodding, you took a few steps back before being stopped by Keith’s voice. “You look good, by the way.”

Spine stiffening, you forced your customer service smile onto your face before nodding. “Thanks, have a good night?” Your voice sounds so fake you knew your friends could feel it radiate off of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, gawking at you one last time before disappearing back into his office.

You spun around, ready to smile triumphantly at your friends for avoiding the lecture, when you’re thrown off by Eddie’s sour expression. What the hell crawled up his ass?

“God, I feel like I need a shower,” Nancy said, gagging. Robin and Steve shot you grateful looks, knowing that you’d taken one for the team.

The sound of the front door opening again caught everyone’s attention, your eyes all turning towards a sheepish Jonathan. “Sorry, just wanted to let you know Blake just pulled up.”

You rushed forward, looking out into the parking lot and seeing the familiar red car parked by the front doors. Smiling, you ran a nervous hand down your hair before turning to your friends.

“Meet you guys there? I think Blake wants to stop by for some burgers first,” you said, not able to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Robin rolled her eyes and pushed you towards the doors. “Yes, we’ll be fine. We’ll see you at the party, go say hi to your date, I’m sure his eyes will fall out his head when he sees you. Just like Keith’s did.” You shot her a glare and she laughed like the bully she was.

“Low blow Buckley, low blow.” You pulled the hoodie on and shot everyone one last wave before pushing the front door open.

Seeing you, Blake stumbled out his car. He was dressed as Batman, with a beaming smile, and you waved excitedly. You ran out to meet him but before you got too far, you heard Eddie grumble: “Who the hell is Blake?”

“Good morning,” Eddie said as he walked in, the bell above the door slamming against your skull. God, why the hell had you listened to Steve about the tequila last night.

Robin groaned next to you, her body slumped over and her hands on her head. “Please stop screaming.”

You caught a flash of amusement on Eddie’s face before he disappeared through the back. “This is your fault,” you mumbled to Robin, who grunted.

“Keith said that we were scheduled to have a half-day! How was I supposed to know that his idea of opening the store late the day after Halloween was going to be only two hours later?” Robin said, her skin turning green, her eyes closing as she gulped audibly.

Hands coming out to smack against her, you pointed her in the direction of the bathroom. “Don’t, please, if I hear you then I’ll start,” you said. Robin sped off towards the employee bathroom and you dropped your head back into your arms.

“Someone clearly enjoyed the party,” Eddie’s voice echoed in the quiet front room. Wincing, you turned to him and glared. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to sound so smug about it.

Eddie raised his brows, as if reading your thoughts, and you huffed. “I don’t have the energy to deal with you today,” you informed him, willing the two Tylenol you’d taken earlier to start working.

“That’s a first,” Eddie muttered, puttering around the store. “So, you seemed to have fun with Blake.”

The tone of disdain in his voice made you blink at him. From your, admittedly patchy memory – Blake had managed to get along with everyone. He was like the human version of a puppy; he made friends with everyone wherever he went.

You opened your mouth to defend him when a loud voice greeted you both. Fighting the urge to grab at your head, you pulled energy from deep – deep – within your reserves and smiled up at Keith. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck and two different colored gloves on. “Good morning, Keith,” you greeted warily. He never came in on holidays or the day after, having a Keith sighting twice this week was never good.

“I’m just passing by,” he said, eyes trailing down your body. Confused, you looked down at yourself to make sure you hadn’t accidentally tossed your cookies and hadn’t noticed. Your usual t-shirt and jeans looked in place and you only glanced back up with you heard Eddie scoff. Maybe he was just being normal gross Keith?

Keith reappeared, keys and a folder in his hand, walking back out towards the door. He stopped, eyeing the two of you before his gaze landed on you. Straightening reflexively, your spine cracked as you did. “Your costume yesterday…was really good. It helped – uh, give the store some seasonal cheer.”

Seasonal cheer? You thought, confused. Wasn’t that usually Christmas? Eddie seemed to be thinking the same as you were because his brows dipped.

The poignant silence seemed to echo and Keith cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you’re doing good work and…keep it up.” With another gross smile, he disappeared. Ugh, ew, you groaned.

“What the fuck?” You muttered, encounter already being pushed away by your pounding headache. Another scoff caught your attention and your eyes drew towards the source.

Eddie’s face was turned towards the horror section, his brows furrowed and expression pinched. “Do you have something you’d like to say out loud?” You snipped, not at all in the mood for his emotional whiplash.

“If I had something to say, sweetheart, I’d say it,” Eddie snapped back.

Surprised, you blinked. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Whatever,” you said, the pounding in your head getting worse.

The entire morning went along the same way, Robin dashing to the bathroom, and you barely holding it together up front with Eddie. While you were used to sparring with him, and would admittedly normally find it comforting, this was more than his usual annoyance. He seemed…genuinely angry at you and you couldn’t understand why. To be perfectly honest, the constant nausea from the moment you’d opened your eyes wasn’t really letting you care much about the why as long as he long as he left you alone for two fucking seconds.

Whatever it was, you were tired of it. “I’m taking my break,” you announced, needing space and maybe a coffee now that your stomach had started to settle.

“Uh, no you’re not,” Eddie said, stopping you from moving to the backroom for your wallet. “My break is scheduled before yours.”

How many times had you all taken a break whenever you wanted? Was he really going to be a stickler for this now? “Dude, are you serious right now?” You asked, about two seconds from whining and stomping your foot like a toddler. Holy shit, all you wanted was peace and quiet and a coffee the size of your head.

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms, “remember that time it was my break and I was about to pass out from my hangover but you just left the store-”

This again? You fumed. “I didn’t know you were hungover!” You defended yourself for the millionth time. “If you would’ve asked for help like a normal person instead of sulking, I would’ve gotten you something! Or I would’ve let you go first!”

Robin’s head popped out, eyes squinting, and a frown on her face. “Are you guys serious?”

“Ask him!” You threw your hand out towards him. “He’s the one being an asshole today, I don’t know what the hell I did!”

“Isn’t it obvious? Clearly, you’re taking the cheap shots with your fucking costume with Keith. If his eyes had gone any wider than they would’ve popped out his head,” Eddie fumed.

What? “Are you trying to say that it’s my fault Keith is a pervert?”

“No! I’m saying you’re using it to your advantage!” His words hit like a physical blow.

Robin stepped out, hands out to both of you, eyes sharp in his direction. “Dude, too far.”

Feeling like you’d been punched, and more than mildly wounded at the fact that Eddie clearly thought you were willing to lower yourself so that Keith of all people would notice, you blinked at him. In the silence, and to your utter dismay, Eddie seemed to notice that he’d actually hurt you. The apology in his eyes made you dart yours to the floor.

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t,” you said quickly. The last thing you wanted was an apology, especially from Munson. “I stopped expecting apologies from you a long time ago,” you said, not able to keep the hurt and barb out of your tone.

Eddie cleared his throat. “What the hell does that mean?”

Of course. “Right,” you snorted, hating that you’d peeled at your own scab. What the hell did you need to go through to learn your lesson with him? “I’ll be out back. You’re right, it’s your scheduled break and you can go first.”

“But-”

You made sure the door slammed as you stepped out and fought the pressure you felt behind your eyes.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, you reminded yourself. After grabbing a few tentative swings of your water, you splashed some onto your face and nodded at your reflection. You weren’t going to let Eddie get one over on you again.

When you came out a few minutes later, he was gone and Robin had an inquisitive stare.

“It’s nothing,” you said, not even believing yourself.

“Sure.”

The next time you were on shift with Eddie left you wondering if an alien had inhabited his body and was parading around as him.

“It’s weird, right? That he’s being this polite?” You asked Steve as you both got ready to leave after the morning shift. After your pseudo-fight with Eddie two days ago, he’d been stiffly polite and you didn’t know what to do with that.

Steve rolled his eyes and shot you a knowing look. “What? Do you miss the sexual tension you had during your fights?”

Sputtering, you reached out to smack him and he dodged your hands. “I’m joking!”

“I’ll choke you,” you told him.

Steve winked at you and you huffed, hurrying out towards the back exit like you did after every Thursday afternoon. Instead of your usual sight, you froze when you saw Eddie standing by the dumpster with a cigarette.

“Uh,” you said, taken aback. You thought he’d left the second it hit three considering how quickly he darted out.

“Hey?” Eddie said, making it sound like a question.

With an awkward wave, you cleared your throat and said, “Hey.”

Checking your watch, you realized you still had a few minutes but now you didn’t know what to do. Eddie, clearly feeling the tension, broke the silence. “I’m just, smoking…as the car heats up,” he motioned to his van that he kept parked out back in the employee lot. He’d gotten special permission because the van didn’t fit in the regular parking lot.

“Right,” you said, rubbing your hands together for warmth. You pulled your beanie tighter against your head and chewed on your bottom lip.

“What, uh, why do you always come out here after your shifts Thursday?”

Not able to help your smile, you saw his eyes light up with interest. Before you could answer, you heard the telltale sign of a gate being opened. With your hand, you motioned for him to follow you as you rounded the corner to the building.

As always, there was a big, furry, dopey, smile waiting for you. From this angle, you could see his golden tail wagging happily at the sight of you.

“Thought he was gonna cry when he didn’t see you,” Maggie, the owner of the bookstore and the adorable golden retriever who was currently jumping in excitement at the sight of you.

Reaching over the fence, you scratched at his ears and chin. “Hey Fitz, who’s a good boy?” Fitz leaned his big head into your palms and you looked over your shoulder at Eddie. The sight of his wide smile smacked into your chest so intensely you felt off balance. Gripping the fence, you waved for him to come over.

Fitz, sensing another potential hand for head scratches, let his tongue loll out and tilted his head in a desperate attempt to look cuter. Your heart melted at the sight and Eddie’s soft murmurs didn’t help. After a few minutes, and a lot of attention, Fitz jumped off the fence and you waved to Maggie before pulling Eddie back towards Family Video.

“The shift change today always coincides with Mags letting Fitz out for a bathroom break. It’s nice, to see them before I leave,” you shrugged, “Fitz is always happy to see me.”

“Yeah, dogs are great,” he said, “especially big ones with dopey smiles.”

You thought of Maggie’s other dog, her shy little elderly chihuahua and you grinned. “The small ones are cute too.”

“It’s definitely a blanket understanding that dogs are all great,” Eddie said, smiling.

Wait a fucking second, were you getting along with Eddie Munson? As if realizing the same thing, Eddie’s hand came up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Uh, I’m gonna go-”

“-yeah, me too, uh, bye,” you said, not letting him finish and darting back inside.

Still a little dazed by the weird, almost normal, conversation – you didn’t realize Steve is practically drooling until Robin turned to shoot you a desperate look.

“What now?” You sighed, picking your bag up.

“One of Harrington’s crushes is here,” Robin said, “he flirted, she responded, they’re going out for coffee, and he’s acting like an idiot over, what number is she again?”

“Number three, Robin, three,” he hissed.

Scrunching your nose, you turned to slap Steve in the head. “What the hell is wrong with you, are you rating girls on a scale?”

“Ouch!” Steve hissed, turning to try and discretely check to see if the blonde had noticed. “I am not rating them on a scale, they’re numbered by how often they come in. Three is three times a week!”

Oh. “Woops, thought you were being a weirdo again.”

“I’ve had considerable growth, I’ll have you know,” he said.

Robin snorted and Steve shot her a wounded look. He then turned his big brown eyes to you. “So, remember how you usually catch a ride with me today because your dad uses your car?”

With a big, dramatic, sigh you pretended to think about it. “What you’re saying is, you’d ditch your friend for a girl? Your best friend who fought Russians and Vecna with you?”

Steve’s eyes turned down, a little sheepish, and he shook his head. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t do that to you. Let me go tell her-”

“Oh my God,” you shoved his shoulder, “you really do love me Harrington. I’m messing with you, go have fun. I’ll catch a ride with Robin when her mom comes by. I’m literally her neighbor.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, the light flush returning to his face.

You laughed and pointed to the door. “Go on Romeo, have fun.”

“I owe you one dude, you’re the best!” He said, straightening his jacket before running a nervous hand through his hair. Robin elbowed you and you grinned as he walked out but managed to slip on a pile of wet leaves. He recovered before she noticed but both of you couldn’t help but snort along with Robin.

She turned to you and leaned onto the counter. “You sure you want to wait? I’m on until closing.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the low sun. While you loved the fall, you definitely weren’t keen on walking home in the dark – not after what you’d seen. Robin knew – shit, you all knew – and usually was your buddy in the system Dustin rigorously implemented. “I’ll grab a late lunch at the coffee shop and be back in an hour? Want anything?”

“Can you grab me a coffee?” She asked, eyes widening as she plead.

You grinned and squeezed her elbow before pushing the door open. “Be back soon!”

The second cup of hot coffee had quickly gone lukewarm while you walked back towards Family Video two hours later. The sidewalk was littered with fallen leaves and you stepped towards a particularly crunchy pile of leaves when you heard it.

“Lightning?” The voice called out while your foot was mid-air.

“Jesus Christ,” you clutched your chest, pulling your headphones off. Eddie looked mildly amused, head leaning out his van.

“You can call me Eddie, no need to be formal,” he said. You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to chuck a fistful of leaves at him.

“Do you make it a habit of driving up to girls in the dark?” You asked, gazing at him. Eddie rolled his eyes and you realized. “Also, stop calling me that.”

“I’m not the one that gave you the nickname!” He said, like he always did.

You fought the urge to leave him there, not wanting to be the first to ruin the precarious peace you had. He wasn’t wrong – but it wasn’t about the nickname per say, it was the tone he used to say it. Kicking the leaves by your foot, the memory of your high school coach floated to the surface. He was kind, intense, but a huge believer of everyone on the girls’ soccer team. He’d been offered the chance to coach the boys’ varsity team but had stuck with the girls.

He'd dubbed you Lightning as a freshman, claiming that you’d win a scholarship to college with how fast you could run the field. The moniker stuck.

Eddie shifted, eyes going over your shoulder towards the store. “Why the hell are you still hanging around here? Our shift ended two hours ago. Keith isn’t around to kiss his ass,” he said, fiddling with a cigarette.

“Pot, kettle,” you said with a snort. You motioned to the store. “Robin is on until closing. Harrington had a date and I don’t have a ride. Why the hell are you still hanging around here?”

“Was at the arcade with the kids. What about you? Your legs broken?” He asked, his stupid tone rubbing you the wrong way.

You glared at him. “My house is like an hour walk away and it’s freezing outside. I’d rather not freeze to death walking in the dark by the forest.”

“Scared?” He teased, and you could see a faint smile building.

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, eyes falling to the visible scars on Eddie’s hands. You knew what hid in the shadows in Hawkins. You weren’t risking shit.

Clearly not expecting your honesty, he blinked at you. After an awkward moment, he nodded. “Alright, hop in.”

“With you?” You said eyeing his car.

Eddie rolled his eyes at you and you saw hurt flash across his face. “I know it’s not a sports car like you’re used to but-”

You held up a hand. “I drive my dad’s old car, Munson. Steve is the one with the BMW. I wasn’t doubting your car, I was doubting your driving skills.”

The defensiveness melted off to give way for comical indignation. “How dare you?” He asked.

Weighing your options, you sighed. You were pretty hungry and hadn’t wanted to spend so much money on food in the café when you knew you had perfectly good leftover pizza at home. Besides, you’d woken up early and desperately just wanted to shower and get out of your jeans. “Alright,” you said reluctantly and Eddie snorted.

“Don’t sound too excited there Lightning,” he said.

Ignoring him, you motioned to the store. “Just let me go tell Robin.” Without waiting for a response, you jogged up to the door and empty storefront. “Hey, Munson’s giving me a ride home. See you tomorrow?”

Ignoring her wiggling brows, you waved off her teasing jabs and jogged back to his van. Pulling yourself into the passenger seat, Eddie had closed his window and blasted the heating.

“Heating takes a minute to get going, you want a blanket? I’ve got some in the back,” he asked, cheeks a little flushed.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, tucking your hands under your thighs. “Thanks.”

As he nodded, pulling away from the curb, you were struck by the scent that enveloped you. It was a mix of smoke, laundry detergent, and something woodsy. Inhaling deeply, you hated how much you seemed to chase after it.

Shit, you thought, the scent was going to sink into your clothes and it’d drive you insane every time you wore this jacket. You vehemently tried to ignore the reasoning behind why it’d drive you up a wall. Nope, not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. You buried that part of you back into the dirt where it belonged.

Clearly uncomfortable with your sudden silence, Eddie hurried to put on music. “Sorry for the mess,” Eddie said, oddly earnest. He tossed a few wrappers into the back and you reached out to stop his fumbling.

“Seriously, it’s fine, my car looks the same. Well, not exactly the same but I’ve been there. I’m not…” you trailed off as Eddie headed towards the direction you’d pointed.

Eddie glanced at you, hands on the wheel. “You’re not?”

“I’m not that type of person,” you muttered, your fingers burning where they’d touched his, and stared at the window, “I wouldn’t make fun of your car.”

“Oh.”

The radio station announced a change in song and by the first few chords you’d already started bobbing your head along to the music. Your brother had been playing this non-stop all month and it’d grown on you.

She's got a smile that it seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky

You hummed along and watched the trees flash by. Eddie cleared his throat mid-chorus and you startled. “Uh, I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You asked, shooting him a suspicious glare. “Is this the part where you murder me and toss my body in the woods? I helped clear your name Munson. I hauled your unconscious ass through a hole in the roof of your trailer.”

Eddie, surprising you both, laughed. You blinked, unaware you were even capable of making Eddie laugh and stared at him a little disbelieving.

“No, I’m not the smartest kid in this town but even I’m not dumb enough to think I can take you on,” he said.

You grinned, feeling a little pleased at the compliment and nodded. “I’m glad you recognize my superiority.”

Snorting, Eddie shook his head and sighed. “No, I meant, about the comment I made about – about the implication that you’d dress a certain way to gain Keith’s favor.”

Completely floored at the fact that Eddie fucking Munson was actually acknowledging that he’d crossed a line and apologizing for it, you nodded dumbly. “It’s okay,” you heard yourself say faintly.

“It’s not,” he insisted, eyes a little too sincere for you as he looked over at you while at the red light. “It was uncalled for and I was annoyed you’d…gotten one over on me. It was immature and shitty and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Besides, no one wants Keith’s attention that badly. No one.”

It was quiet for a few before you broke it with a small smile. “I didn’t know you were capable of emotional maturity.”

The tension snapped when Eddie registered what you’d said with a scoff. “Ha, ha,” he said dryly.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, looking at the familiar houses as you drove past, “I appreciate it.”

Eddie nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tight. You itched to ask him something, anything, but the awkward silence had descended again.

It became suffocating the longer you sat silently but you didn’t have it in you to say anything. You thought of the tentative truce you had for the past few days, and his apology, and something soft unfurled in your chest.

Whoa, oh, oh

Sweet child o' mine

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

Sweet love of mine

The music curled around you, eyes peeking at him discretely and you couldn’t help but smile at how he mouthed the words to the music. Suddenly, an old memory steamrolled you, bubbling up unbidden.

You were so excited, you couldn’t believe you’d found the dress you wanted at such a discount – and it was the last one – in your size! Anne said it was definitely a sign. You carefully applied your mascara and the last bit of hairspray into your hair.

“Do I look dumb? I don’t want him to think I’m trying too hard,” you said, nervous beyond belief.

Anne beamed at you; eyes soft. “You look beautiful and trust me, he won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you.”

The guitar solo broke you from the memory. Oh, you were here.

“The blue one at the end?” He asked. “Robin’s is the yellow one, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice coming out too shaky.

Eddie shot you a confused look but your eyes darted down to your bag at your feet.

While you’d never admit it out loud - your attraction to Eddie had never fully been stomped out but…as you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, you couldn’t help but remember.

The memory of that night slithered back to the front of your mind and your nails dug into your palms. The feeling of your dress under your fingers, the smell of hairspray, and the memory of the butterflies in your stomach.

Eddie came to a stop and you jumped out like you were a bat out of hell. Inhaling deeply, you felt your clammy hands unclench as clean air filled your lungs.

“Thanks for the ride, I owe you one,” you said, not bothering to look back.

Eddie’s confused voice followed you as you slammed the door behind you. “Oh, uh, sure-”

You jogged towards your front door, quickly shutting it and dropping your bag onto the floor. Eddie Munson was not to be trusted, you reminded yourself, watching through the blinds as he idled in your driveway before pulling out. No matter how nice he smelled or how deceptively beautiful his stupid eyes were. Those had been the same things that had pulled you in before and he – he’d…

Wiping your face with the back of your wrist, you ripped the dress off your body and climbed into your bed. Crying until your chest hurt from heaving, you still couldn’t help but wonder how you’d read him so wrong.

That’s what you’d gotten for trusting Eddie Munson and no matter what truce or bond you had, you weren’t making that mistake twice.

You had spent the entire night replaying the painful memories in your head like some sick twisted version of your own personal hell. So, when you woke up bleary eyed and cranky for your shift the next morning, you weren’t totally surprised.

“Good morning,” Eddie said, early as always, when you walked in.

Grumpy at having to work the morning shift on little to no sleep – thanks to him no less – you grumbled incoherently. A ghost of a smile flashed across Eddie’s face before he handed you a to-go cup.

Narrowing your eyes at it, you watched as his lips twitched before he wiggled the cup at you again. “It’s not poisoned, I swear. I got it from the coffee shop two streets down.”

“Oh,” you said, realizing you did know the design on the sleeve. You took it from him and sipped it cautiously. “That’s my favorite coffee shop, the baristas are so nice.”

“I know,” he said, ears turning red as he whirled around.

You blinked at him, confused. “Thanks,” you said, not sure if it was a statement or question.

He waved his hand in the air and you tossed your things into your locker. Coming back out, you hopped onto the counter and watched Eddie reshelve as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Suddenly, you realized he had put on The Breakfast Club – one of your favorites. Hadn’t he given you shit for how many times you liked to watch it?

Your eyes darted towards him to find him already watching you. “What?” He asked, startled at your sudden attention.

“Interesting movie choice,” you said, shrugging.

Eddie’s molten eyes seared you as his mouth curved into something resembling a sheepish smile. “It’s a good movie,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip.

The quiet of the store, the one only a Friday morning could conjure, echoed loudly. You both blinked at each other, unsure. You did know, however, that he was extending a metaphorical olive branch. And you didn’t want to be the asshole that rejected that. No matter how much you didn’t trust him.

“It is a good movie,” you agreed, taking a swig of your coffee and realizing that Eddie had gotten your coffee order correctly. How did he know how you liked your coffee?

Eddie’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Let me guess, you’re Molly Ringwald.”

You snorted so hard, you almost felt coffee come out your nose. Thumping your chest, you coughed until it cleared. “Dude, what the hell?”

Eddie looked bewildered.

“I wish I was Molly,” you said, looking up at the television again. “I’m definitely Brian.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you said, waving him off. “Mr. Bateman’s AP Chem lab is the reason I lost the full ride to Indie State. The only reason I kept some of it was because of the soccer scout. My mom didn’t care, she’s happy I was top of the class but, whatever. Mr. Bateman can fucking suck it.” Alright, maybe you were still a little bitter about it.

Eddie’s contemplative silence only made you more nervous.

“That’s why I’m in this shithole,” you added, picking at the coffee cup cover. “I can’t afford college yet; I’ve got money from the grants I did get – and my soccer scholarship but…I still needed some more. My mom said she’d get it somehow but, I barely see her enough as it is.”

“I didn’t know,” Eddie said quietly.

You looked at him over your shoulder and shrugged. “I know you didn’t. That’s why I like to remind you that your trailer park and my neighborhood are only a few blocks apart. I didn’t grow up like Steve. I don’t know what image you have of me but, just because I hung out with cheerleaders and jocks at the end of high school didn’t mean I had the money they did.”

Before Eddie could say anything else, you switched the subject. No matter how nice he was being, you’d learned the hard way that Eddie Munson had two sides and could flip between them with enough speed to give you whiplash.

“Let me guess, you’re Bender,” you asked, grabbing the next stack of tapes. You needed to do something or you were going to end up biting off all your nails.

Eddie sighed. “I’d like to prove you wrong and tell you definitely not but, yeah – we’re just a cliché in the end huh?”

There was something about the way he’d said it, numb – like a bunch of people had told him he wouldn’t amount to anything until he’d started to believe it himself. A flash of Bender’s face while Vernon yelled at him crossed your mind. A surprising wave of protectiveness surged in you.

“No, Eddie,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. You let your eyes roam around his wild hair, curls jutting out like they had a mind of their own, his Metallica long sleeve t-shirt was faded and looked incredibly soft underneath his Family Video vest. Why couldn’t you just let the idea of him go? A pang of old hurt shot through you. Your eyes fell back to his and you felt your stomach summersault at the look in them. “You are anything but a cliché.”

The smile that grew on Eddie’s face reminded you of a gar den. It was warm and welcoming as it split his face nearly in two. After a moment, you turned back to the computer, hands clammy, and tried hard not to focus on the new comfortable silence that had settled.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at how much you’d revealed with your answer but also wondered if that had been the metaphorical white flag to finally wave between you two. Either way, later on in the day when Robin skidded into the store, she shrieked.

“Did you finally kill Munson? I knew you’d crack one day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s too quiet in here! Where’d you hide the body? Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t want to accidentally sell you out.”

Eddie walked through the swinging doors and smiled when he saw Robin. “Oh, hey, I didn’t hear the bell. How was your midterm?”

Ignoring his question, Robin looked between you two nervously. “I don’t know what’s worse, the bickering or the truce.”

Eddie leaned onto the counter and you used every ounce of willpower you had not to dart your eyes towards the exposed sliver of skin at his waist. “What’s she talking about?” Eddie asked, eyes sparkling with humor.

You eyed him, the small voice that usually warned you away from him mysteriously quiet. After a beat too long, you offered up your own white flag. “I don’t know,” you said, playing along, “you know how she is.” Surprise and relief flashed across Eddie’s face before melting into a small smirk.

People could change, you’d seen it in Steve. And while it didn’t change your opinion about the past, and what’d he’d done – you didn’t need to fight him for the rest of your lives.

Robin’s eyes almost bugged out her head. “No, no, no you can’t gang up on me! Where’s Harrington when you need him?”

Wincing as the group on stage screamed their goodbyes, you sipped your beer and wondered if you’d taken the metaphorical flag waving a bit too far.

It was a combination of Eddie’s complete one-eighty change in personality, the hopeful look in his stupid Bambi eyes, and Steve answering for you, that landed you in a crowded bar downtown waiting for Corroded Coffin to take the stage as the final act. According to Dustin, their pseudo-manager, it was a huge night for them. They were the main band, and had managed to get a full house.

“Hey everyone,” a voice echoed and your eyes shot up to the stage.

Dustin shushed everyone, Nancy and Robin sharing an eye roll – and you muffling your laugh – as he stared up at the band.

“We want to thank everyone for coming out,” Eddie said, looking completely at home up on the stage. You couldn’t help but be a little…well, shocked. He’d transformed completely as he strummed his guitar, his head banging as he made the stage his home.

It was clear now, compared to the other bands, why Corroded Coffin was the main attraction. They played well off each other, the other three members balancing out Eddie’s energy and ramping it up when they needed to.

“Now, I know you guys are here for the classics but we did get one request and I promised him I’d play it before the end of the night. So, Harrington, this one’s for you,” Eddie said with a wink.

Your group turned to gaze at Steve who grinned. At the sight of all the stares, Steve grinned sheepishly. “We made a bet last week at the store. If he lost, he had to play a pop cover,” Steve said, grinning victoriously. Despite the shift, the crowd still ate it up.

Steve pulled your hand up to his and twirled you around. Shrieking at the sudden, unexpected, movement, you laughed when Steve herded you onto the dance floor. His head bopped, one arm around yours and you jumped along to the tempo. Nancy and Jonathan joined you both, in their own world, and you opened your arms to beckon Robin over.

Soon, the set came to an end and Steve had led the group back over to the bar. A little out of breath, and sweaty, you ordered another beer and pressed the cool bottle to your cheek. “Damn Harrington, you’ve got moves,” you said, impressed.

Steve winked at you and for a brief moment you could see what girls saw in him. Robin, however, just rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. “Oh, look, it’s Eddie!” She waved, greeting him with a hug. Your little group cheered for them, offering up their congratulations. Feeling a little awkward, the peace between you two still too new, you focused on getting your pulse back to normal.

“So, I saw you dancing,” Eddie said, sliding into the bar stool next to yours.

Biting back a smile, you shrugged. “You weren’t atrocious,” you said nonchalantly.

Eddie, recognizing the compliment hidden underneath, threw his head back and laughed. “High praise from you, Lightning.” The echoes of his laughter flittered around you.

“Don’t say I never said anything nice,” you said, teasing back. The electricity between you both yawned awake and you chewed on your cheek. This new development had you avoiding Eddie recently, unsure on how to handle it. Glancing at him, you saw his stare already on you. Not wanting to flinch away like you normally did, you sipped your drink, eyes still on his. You licked at your bottom lip, catching a stray drop of beer and your stomach summersaulted when you saw his eyes follow the movement.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said quietly, almost inaudible under the music blaring from the speakers.

Not knowing what to say, you shrugged. “Technically, you didn’t invite me,” you said, “Steve just pulled me along.”

Eddie’s head reared back, his eyes flying back to yours and he only dropped his shoulders when he realized you were joking. “I’ll invite you personally next time,” he said, knocking his beer bottle with yours.

More than a little surprised, you shot him a look and he just ducked his head to smile. Your heart skipped and you wanted to reach down and beat it back into submission. This wasn’t the time to forget.

“Although, I can do you one better,” he swirled in his stool, his knees bumping into yours and leaving them there. His warmth seeped into your skin, like he was branding you, and you quirked your brow in a last-ditch effort to seem unaffected.

“Do you want to go to an afterparty? Jared, one of the guitarists, lives out by the lake and has a bonfire after. It’s got shitty alcohol but good people,” Eddie added when he saw you scrunch your nose.

Dropping your hand to his, surprising you both, you winced. “Lover’s Lake?” You asked quietly.

Understanding bled into his expression and he shook his head. “Opposite side of town, I promise,” he said, his finger tracing a small circle onto your skin. “I…can’t really go by that lake either now.”

“Are the others going?” You asked, glancing around for a familiar face.

Eddie smiled. “Why? Scared to be alone with the Satan worshippers?”

Not able to help yourself, you snorted. “Eddie, I could sucker punch you into next week without blinking,” you said.

With a dramatic gasp, hands going to his chest, you watched amusedly as Eddie sputtered. “How dare you? I fought demobats for you.”

“I’m still the better fighter,” you said, laughing when he feigned hurt.

“I can’t believe you’d say that completely true fact right to my face,” he said, huffing.

Before you could tease back, a scruffy haired guy popped up by Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie, Mark wants to talk to you. Said something about payment and next week’s schedule.”

Eddie looked almost remorseful but he tapped your arm. “I’ll be right back and then we can all drive out to Jared’s.”

“You’re coming?” The newcomer asked, surprise tinting his expression.

Feeling a little defensive, you felt your shoulders rise and were suddenly almost thrown from your seat when Eddie stood up. His back was to you but you managed to catch his death glare towards his friend. You placed an stumbling, desperate, hand on his hip for balance and Eddie jumped. His eyes dropped to yours and they softened. “Sorry. Lightning, Gareth - Gareth, Lightning. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, lifting your bottle in a semi-salute and Eddie smiled before disappearing into the crowd. Nancy, a little disheveled and out of breath, leaned against you and sighed. “It’s so loud!” She said, a little too loudly for how close to your ear she was. She swayed a little and you knew by the flush in her cheeks that she was tipsy.

“Come on Wheeler, park it,” you said, bumping her into your stool. She beamed at you, pushing hair away from her face.

“Hey, Gareth, right? You played really well.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Completely forgetting Eddie’s bandmate, you glanced at him to find him watching you. Feeling awkward again, you steadied Nancy as she chatted with the bartender. “Um, I know who you are by the way,” you said, shifting your weight. “We were in English and Biology together during junior year.”

Gareth smiled, making him look younger, and you watched him as he became a little flustered. “Yeah, you always helped me out with the pop quizzes.”

Snorting, you glanced at him. “By helping out do you mean letting you and Jeff cheat off me?”

Laughing, he nodded and you grinned. “Not a lot of people would’ve helped,” he said, “but you were always nice to us. You never let Tommy pick on us either.”

“He wasn’t as much of a bully without his leaders,” you said with a scoff, remembering Steve’s old friends. “Besides, he knew from experience not to fuck with me.”

Clearly that had been the only thing Gareth needed to break the ice because conversation flowed easily after. At one-point, mid-sentence, you glanced over at the dance floor and caught sight of Eddie.

Voice drying up, you watched as he wrapped his arms around a girl a good head shorter than him. She leaned back, eyes sparkling in clear adoration, and you felt your stomach drop to your feet. She had long, beautiful, black hair that you knew was something she was born with – hair that nice had to be genetics. Her entire outfit screamed effortless and grunge in a way you’d never in a million years be able to replicate. She looked like the girlfriend of the guitarist of a band, like someone who fit in, you thought, annoyed.

Whoa, where had that come from? You straightened, realizing you’d completely ignored Gareth. His eyes shot you a knowing look. “That’s Mark’s daughter – the owner of the bar. She’s cool-”

“-I’m sure she is. Um, I’ll be right back,” you said, rushing towards the exit. The cold November air stung as you took a shuddering breath. You watched it evaporate into the air and you frowned.

What the fuck was in the air in that place? Had you gotten jealous? Over Eddie? You shook your head, leaning against the brick wall and placing a hand to your forehead. Get it together, you scolded yourself, get it the fuck together.

“Hey.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you whirled around and came face to face with Eddie. He was rubbing his hands together, clearly cold. “You’re shivering,” he said as your mind whirled with an excuse to just drive home.

Before you could tell him you were fine – you hadn’t worn a thick enough coat since you knew you’d be driving to the bar – Eddie had unzipped his hoodie and wrapped it around your shoulders. Clearly, your body was certifiably insane because your arms tucked themselves into the sleeves and latched onto the warmth. Hello? You mind screamed. This is the opposite of getting it together!

“You’ll start to shiver now,” you said, brows furrowing at the sight of his thin long sleeve. Eddie just waved off your concern and tucked his hands into his jean’s pockets. His eyes were wide as you burrowed into his hoodie, his brown ones stuck on your torso. Did he want it back?

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my leather jacket inside,” he said, voice sounding a little strangled, and his eyes darted over your head, “I just came out to see what the hell had you thinking you could pull an Irish goodbye.”

You hadn’t been aware he was watching you. Mind coming up blank, you looked down towards your hands and immediately regretted it. The motion brought your nose closer to the collar and a waft of Eddie’s stupid smell just wrapped around you. “Uh, I was just getting a bit too hot,” you lied, poorly.

“Right,” Eddie said, “so this would be the right moment to tell you Jared’s party is mostly outside?”

Well, fuck.

“Hey Munson!” A group of guys from one of the earlier bands waves towards the road. “We’re gonna go help Jared set up. You coming?”

“Yeah!” He called out waving them off and turning back to you. “I let Harrington know he could leave his car behind in the parking lot but he said he’s giving a Robin a ride. I don’t mind giving anyone a ride. Byers said he’d take the kids home with Wheeler. She’s a little-”

“-drunk already?” You finished for him with a smile. “Nancy is a certified badass in every way but her alcohol tolerance.” Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried your best to ignore the waft of cologne that threatened to pull you under.

Eddie laughed, stupidly pretty eyes trailing down to your torso again. His cheeks flushed and you frowned. “So, you want shotgun?”

And like the complete, and absolute mess that you were, you felt yourself nod. “Sure, can’t let Steve have all the fun.”

There was absolutely no way in hell you were telling anyone how absolutely fucking freezing you were. How the fuck did everyone look warm enough? On the ride over, Eddie had the heating blasting and it still didn’t feel like enough.

As Eddie pulled the van into a spot by a house in the woods, everyone in the back piled out and you groaned internally at the gust of air that came through the open side doors.

“Here,” Eddie said, rummaging around the back and pulling out a purple blanket. He tucked it under his arm and motioned to the fire that had already been started. “It’s much warmer in front of the fire, I promise.”

Not needing to be told twice, you sped over to the empty logs by the fire and plopped down. Curling your arms around you, you let the warmth of the flames sink into your skin. “Jesus that’s good,” you said, extending a hand out towards the fire.

Something soft dropped into your lap and Eddie took a seat on the wooden log next to you. “Here, I’ve got a few blankets in the van if you want another.”

Your fingers were curled into the soft material and you blinked up at him. Eddie Munson had warm fluffy blankets in his van?

“I remember that blanket,” Gareth said as he passed you both on his way towards the food. He wiggled his brows at Eddie who looked like he was turning purple.

Car blankets…ew! “Oh my God, is this your sex blanket? Eddie, did you just offer me your hook up blanket?” You asked, staring at the purple cloth suspiciously.

Clearly not expecting that answer, he choked, eyes wildly turning to you. “No, Jesus, Lightning – no it’s not my fucking sex blanket,” he hissed, voice lowering towards the end.

You took in his mildly offended expression and snorted. “Oh, stop looking like I pissed in your cheerios, you’re telling me you’ve never hooked up with a girl in your van? With all that space?”

Eddie’s cheeks turned suspiciously pink and you couldn’t help but grin. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone on that blanket!” He insisted.

Giving it a tentative sniff, the same Eddie scent drifted out and you deemed it suitable. Wrapping the fleece around your shoulders, you tucked yourself into it and almost cried at how warm you felt. Beaming up at Eddie, you leaned your shoulder onto his. “Thank you, Munson.” Jesus, clearly the cold was interfering with your common sense.

Despite your mind screaming into the void, your heart skipped when he smiled softly. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, eyes on the fire.

“Someone’s a little cold,” a voice said, an enormous man sitting onto the log next to you. For a moment, you swore the ground shook.

“Jared,” Eddie greeted, fist bumping against his. “This is-”

“-I know who you are,” Jared said with a grin and you raised your brow. He laughed, eyes scrunching when he did. “You went to school with my little sister. She was on the junior varsity team.”

A flash of Mariah’s face came to the forefront of your mind and you grinned. Mariah had been a freshman right as you’d graduated. Her determined expression, box braids tied neatly back, and wide smile came to mind.

“No shit, I didn’t know she had a brother,” you straightened, smiling up at the giant. “She’s like five feet worth of anger and determination on the field. I helped coach the JV team my last year.”

Jared smiled, his teeth incredibly straight and white. “Yeah, she idolizes you man. Said she wanted to be just like Lightning,” he said, “she told me how you worked with her after practice to get her drills better. Thanks.”

You waved away his gratitude. “No thanks needed; she’s got a great career ahead of her. She’d get scouted in a second – last I heard she wanted to go to Brown?”

“Yeah,” Jared said, clearly proud, “she got the brains.”

“I’m assuming that means you got the brawn?” You asked. Eddie sputtered, trying and failing to hide his laugh.

Jared, amused, shook his head. “Everyone’s gotta mention it,” he said, “if you ask me what the weather is like up here, I’ll kick you out.”

“No, you won’t,” you said, burrowing back into your blanket and smirking up at the man who clearly adored his sister, “or I’ll tell Mariah and she’ll never let you live it down.”

Jared’s laughter echoed around the trees and illuminated the forest. It was the kind of laughter that you couldn’t help but join in on. “Munson, I like this one. How’d you manage to bag Lightning of all people?”

You opened your mouth to tease Eddie but instead he turned a bright red and said adamantly: “We’re not dating, we work together.”

It took everything in your soul to not let your face show how stung you were at how quickly and fervently he said that. Jesus. Alright, he didn’t want to date you – that was crystal clear. “So, you’re single?” Jared said, wiggling his brows. Having known him for exactly five minutes, you could already tell he was joking.

“Keep playing your cards right and maybe I won’t be,” you teased back.

Jared laughed, utterly delighted, and Eddie huffed. “You wouldn’t want Batman coming after you,” he said.

Completely confused, you turned to him and lowered the blanket. “What?”

“Blake?” Eddie said, tone equally confused.

“Oh,” you said, shaking your head, “he’s just a friend. He’s one of my neighbors – he just broke up with his girlfriend and didn’t want to go to the party alone. He knew I…well, I needed the night out so we decided to go together. Then we won the contest and the tequila…”

Eddie’s face went blank and Jared chuckled. “Sounded like a hell of a party.”

“It was, so was the hangover the next morning,” you said, shivering when a strong gust of wind hit you.

“Well, the weather down there looks cold if your teeth chattering is anything to go by,” Jared said, eyes mischievous. “Hey Eddie, why don’t you give her some of my special blend? It always warms people right up.”

Eddie snorted and you turned to glance at both of them. “Is that euphemism for something? Because I may not be as tall as you but I’m scrappy and I’ll kick both your asses.”

Jared’s laugh boomed again and a few people turned to glance at your curiously. “You’re funny, I really like her Munson,” he said, tone suggestive.

Not wanting to go down that particular road – something told you that an older brother like Jared would be ruthless in teasing – you hopped to your feet. “Come on Munson, let’s get this infamous drink.”

You followed Eddie’s lead towards the tables set up by the lone house near the lake. Glancing around, you watched as a few people smiled at you and greeted each other warmly. You had no idea there was such a big metalhead scene in Indiana.

“They like you,” he said, handing you a red cup filled with what smelled like paint stripper.

“A lot of people finding my presence to be scintillating, not everyone despises me the way you do,” you said, quirking a brow at him, you took a sip and almost spat it out into the dirt. What the- “Holy shit what the fuck is that?”

Eddie laughed, eyes turning towards Jared. “He makes this gross moonshine concoction that he swears is great.”

Not able to scrub the taste from your mouth, you shouted: “Jared this tastes like acetone! If I die from ingesting this shit, I’m haunting your ass!”

Jared and his bandmates laughed, waving away your grievances and you rolled your eyes. “A beer, please, I’ll even take some shitty vodka.”

Snorting, Eddie snapped the cap off your bottle with his keys and handed it to you. It was cold but you instantly swashed it around your mouth, trying to get your nerve endings to return.

“I don’t despise you,” Eddie said after he’d opened himself a beer.

“What?” You asked, practically drooling at your attempts to wash down the moonshine. God, your mouth was on fire. Eddie smiled but handed you the bag of chips he’d swiped from the table. Digging into them with gusto, you looked up at him curiously.

“I said, I don’t despise you,” he echoed quietly, his eyes darting down to his beer bottle. You froze, mid-chew and followed his eyesight. Eddie’s thumb was picking at the label relentlessly, the sticky paper peeling as his nail grated at it.

Hating the light awkwardness that had settled in, you shrugged, bumping his shoulders with your own. “High praise coming from Eddie Munson.” Your eyes flittered around the woods and you stood, nodding towards Jared. “Come on, I need to go give him more shit for that drink. I don’t know if I’ll ever taste anything normally again.”

You took off, Eddie’s footsteps and laughter following close behind.

“Did you know that the Harvest Festival opened last week?” You asked Eddie, words slurring.

Eddie nodded, the movement distracting you. “Yeah, Lightning, you’ve told me like six times tonight. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Have I?” You hiccupped, chest shuddering against your permission. “I really want to go.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Robin said, leaning her entire body weight onto your side. Falling over, you stumbled into someone’s lap.

“Liam!” You said, greeting Eddie’s newest bandmate excitedly. Oh my God, you’d found Liam!

“You did find me, I was sitting right below you though,” Liam said, amused, “you okay?”

Not moving an inch, you stretched towards the fire and nodded. “Yeah, totally!” You realized he’d been mid conversation with a blonde girl and you thrusted your hand out. “Hi!”

Her green eyes crinkled with amusement and she shook your hand. “Nice to meet you again,” she said.

“You’re so pretty,” you told her.

Her cheeks went pink and she ducked her head, her leather jacket rustling with the movement. Robin, who’d ended up sprawled next to you nodded enthusiastically. “So pretty,” she agreed. “I love your fishnet tights.”

“It works really well with the outfit,” you added. “I would date the shit out of you.”

“Me too!” Robin laughed, falling half into you.

The girl, looking pleased and amused, laughed. “Munson, I like your friends. They’re good for my ego,” she said, helping you sit back up onto the log and squeezing your shoulder.

Eddie popped out of nowhere and you squealed. “Eddie!” You wrapped your arms around his and tugged him down towards you. God, he was so warm. “Where’d you come from? Have you met Liam and his pretty girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing lightly, “I have met Liam and Alianna.”

“I missed you,” you said softly, leaning your head onto his shoulder and closing your eyes. The fire had begun to spin and you felt the faintest nausea roll through your belly.

A few soft fingers danced across your cheek and pushed the hair out of your face. Eddie’s big brown eyes swam into your vision, steady and a little amused, and you grinned. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, fingers still at your cheek, “I missed you too.”

“That’s an understatement,” Liam laughed, his eyes on the two of you, and you watched Eddie lean down to punch his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, she’s drunk,” Eddie hissed.

You weren’t drunk, you thought, you’d barely had a cup of that acetone. “Good,” you said when his eyes were back on yours, “I’m a very miss-able person.”

“You are,” he nodded, eyes darting away from yours and glaring towards the man at your feet. “I was gone for about five minutes and it’s because I needed to grab you two these.” With a flourish, a pair of water bottles appeared from thin air.

Stumbling up to your feet, you felt your eyes widen as you gasped. “Oh my God, you’re magic.”

“Something like that,” Eddie said, helping Robin open hers.

“Where’s Steve?” You gulped down your water and managed to spill a bit onto your chin.

“Right here. Jesus, are you two drunker than when I left fifteen minutes ago? I found a few bags in case they puke on the way home.”

“I drank Liam’s beer,” Robin declared and you cheered, liking the beaming smile she sent your way. “Holy shit. Lightning look!”

Whirling around to follow her finger, Eddie’s hand came up quickly to steady you. Not able to find what Robin was clearing gasping at, you blinked at her. “What?”

“A bunny!”

You clasped your hands in front of your chest and shrieked. “A bunny!?” You loved bunnies! And dogs. And clouds. And snow!

Steve snorted. “I highly doubt-”

“Race you!” You screamed, shaking Eddie’s hand off and darting out into the trees.

Robin’s laughter and heavy footsteps followed you but she’d quickly veered to the left. You hesitated, hearing Eddie and Steve shout out your names.

“Fuck, they’re both fast. I’m closer to Rob – just, go – she can run across the field in a minute, hurry!” Steve’s voice echoed.

You gasped. They wanted to find the bunny first. Grinning, you felt the strength in your legs as you pumped your arms and sped off through the trees. You could see the field in your mind, feel the ball at your feet and the wall of defense you needed to get through before you got the goal.

With a well-practiced kick, a zing of pain shot through your leg when the rock cracked in two against the tree a few feet ahead.

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, hand clamping down painfully tight on your wrist. “You – you run really fast.”

“I’m a center forward,” you said, still jumping up and down a little at your successful goal, “did you see that? I scored!”

Eddie blinked at you. “What the hell are you talking about? Jesus you should’ve stopped after the fourth cup.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Eddie, didn’t you see me score?”

“Of course I did, who’d you score against? The bunny?”

Bunny? “What bunny?” You asked, tilting your head and stumbling when the motion made the world spin.

Eddie’s arm pulled you towards him so your back was to his chest and his arms cradled you.

“It’s dizzy in the woods,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “You have a bunny?”

At your wide-eyed look, Eddie tossed his head back and laughed. “You’re kind of hilarious, you know that?”

Obviously. “Duh.”

“Maybe we should walk back and tell everyone how you scored,” he said gently, tugging you forward.

That was a great idea! You thought, letting Eddie tug you back towards the flickering warm light. “Can you help me take off this jacket?” You asked him, feeling warm.

“Let’s keep it on,” Eddie said quickly, “it’s cold and you could get sick.”

“But I’m hot,” you whined, stomping your foot.

Eddie groaned. “Please? For me?” Ugh, those stupid eyes.

Conceding, you resumed walking and remembered. “Hey, the quarter is almost over,” you said, “the best employee is going to be picked soon.”

“I promise to bring you back some leftovers,” Eddie teased and you grinned.

Thinking on the cake you’d been dreaming of, you nodded. “If you win, bring me some cake okay? Pinky promise?”

Surrounded by Eddie’s laughter and his fingers hooked in yours, the lights from the party still swam in your vision, the ground felt more solid beneath you.

Suddenly, a memory shoved your smile aside and you frowned.

“It was all a joke.”

Eddie wasn’t to be trusted. He’d left you. He broke promises. He wasn’t going to bring you cake.

Upset, you stopped walking and looked to him. “Why?” Because that’s all you’d ever really wanted to know. Why had he done that to you?

“Why what? Why am I half carrying you back to the clearing? Because knowing you, you’d get lost trying to drunkenly run after a bunny in the woods,” he said with a laugh.

“No,” you grunted, pulling your arm out of his. The bubbly feeling in your chest was replaced with a soft, familiar, hurt. It radiated outwards, your skin crawled with it. “Why’d you do that to me? You really…hurt my feelings.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, ducking his head to catch your gaze.

The way he softened his tone, his eyes warm and inviting, lured you in like a moth to a flame. “I hate that I still like the sound of your voice,” you said, annoyed at yourself and scrunching your nose. “You’re so pretty and it’s not fair. In math class I’d stare at you the whole period. Did you know that you stick your tongue out when you concentrate really hard?”

“What?”

“I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

Looking stunned, Eddie blinked. “Am I?” He asked, looking confused and pleased. “Do you? Exactly how much have you had to drink?”

Ready to tell him all the ways you thought he was beautiful; you were interrupted by Steve’s voice. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?” He panted, out of breath. “I got Robin shoved back into my car. I think it’s best if we just crash at my place, it’s the closest. A few others need rides though.”

“I can drive her to yours,” Eddie offered quickly, hand coming up to your elbow.

Steve shrugged. “I can take her or you can just stay over too.”

Eddie frowned, looking unhappy. You poked at his cheek and giggled when he smiled down at you. “Are you…sure?”

“Dude, I helped keep your skin together while you bled out in her lap. Crashing on my sofa at almost five? in the morning,” Steve groaned and you giggled, “isn’t crossing any lines.”

Eddie turned back to you. “Come on Superstar, we’re going home,” he urged you forward. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow morning.”

“Let’s take some more of the m’shine,” you whispered to Eddie, stumbling over roots. “That stuff is good.”

His laughter echoed in your bones and you smiled up at him. “I’ll make sure to tell Jared you said that.”

Fuck, you groaned, sharp pain digging into your skull and slapping your brain like the little bitch it was. “There go my corneas,” you hissed, clutching at your head.

Where the fuck were you? You glanced around and caught sight of a snoring Robin on the bed next to you. Steve’s house.

Flashes of last night came back to you and you groaned. What in the hell had possessed you to drink a whole ass cup of moonshine? You were going to kill Steve. Just come out with us, what’s the worst that could happen?

It took you about five minutes to talk yourself up to standing. You felt like you had the equilibrium of a baby deer as you darted into the bathroom across the hall. Locking the door and hurrying over to the toilet you realized you’d managed to change into the pajama set you kept in Steve’s guest room. Smiling, a fuzzy memory bubbled up and you remembered laughing so hard you cried when Robin had gotten her head stuck in her sweatpants while trying to change.

A loud whirring sound startled you to attention. As quickly as you could, you splashed your face and brushed your teeth to get the taste of last night’s events out your mouth.

Feeling mildly better, you grimaced when the light from the hallway reawakened your migraine. Squinting your eyes, you tried to stumble towards the noise coming from the kitchen in the hopes that someone was brewing coffee.

You were a few feet away from the swinging door when you heard your name. Freezing in place, you peeked through the circular window and watched Steve hand Eddie a mug.

“I don’t know dude…” Eddie said, “she looked pretty sad but I don’t understand…she said some stuff. I just want to talk to her.”

Steve sighed. “Listen, I promised her I wouldn’t take sides but you have to give her some space. She’s not good at – this wasn’t easy for her. Working with you, you gotta understand that right?”

You winced. What the fuck Steve? What the hell was unclear about ‘don’t speak about this ever?’

“Right…” Eddie said, still sounding unsure.

“I’m not judging you, it was a long time ago now, and people change but, she’s still hurt. She tries to hide it but-”

“She’s hurt?” The indignation in Eddie’s voice confused you. What the hell did he have to be mad about?

You heard Steve’s soft laughter. “Besides, you both looked pretty cozy to me last night. I see the way you look at her. She might be blind to it, but we’re not. Dustin definitely isn’t.”

Eddie sputtered, and you heard the nerves in his tone as he stumbled over his words. The instinct to defend yourself, to deny it, was so strong you had to grab the doorknob to keep you steady. You wanted to hear what Eddie had to say. Blind to what?

“That’s-”

“Dingus!” Robin’s voice cried, “Is that coffee I smell? God my head feels like fucking lead!”

She bumped into you, jarring your heads, and you both groaned at the same time.

“Sorry,” she moaned, “I didn’t hear you come out the bathroom. My brain is pounding.”

You did your best to look like you weren’t just eavesdropping on them and waved away her apologies. Robin shoved the doors and you followed suit.

Steve grinned, his eyes teasing over his mug of coffee and you knew you were going to pay for the shit you’d given him the last time you had to pick up him from a bar.

“So, let’s recap the night, shall we?”

Robin groaned and you stood in silence, sipping at your coffee, taking each teasing jab with a smile or scowl. Eddie’s arm brushed against yours as you sat at the kitchen island next to him and you jumped. He smiled, making room for you, and you mumbled your thanks. The memory of his arms wrapping around you in the woods flashed through your mind and you stiffened. Shit. Had you said anything embarrassing? Just be normal, be cool, you snapped at yourself.

Despite everything, you still felt Eddie’s eyes on you the whole morning.

This was weird. You were being weird.

And yet…you had still shrugged Eddie’s hoodie on over your shoulders this morning. The worn material was soft and warm.

There was absolutely no reason, aside from your clear temporary insanity, for you to be wearing it. In fact, you should’ve returned it to him the next day. But here you were. In your car, panicking about Eddie seeing you in it and scrambling to take it off. You had reached for it that morning without realizing that you had a whole shift with him.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” You muttered to yourself, pulling on your outer coat on and checking your hair.

In your defense, everything between you two seemed to have shifted after that night – after the party. Despite the fact that you couldn’t remember half of the night. Eddie had done a one eighty and spent most of his time being…well…nice to you. You were both still trying to win the dinner but, it was about making yourself look good rather than making Eddie seem lacking.

It’d been a whole five days and you hadn’t had a single homicidal thought once. That had to be a record; something of that caliber had to be documented.

So, because of all this – you’d yet to give back the sweater. He hadn’t asked you for it and you’d possibly taken advantage of that. Last night, you’d had a nightmare about Homecoming and it had been enough of a wake-up call that you’d become resolute in returning it to him today.

While you’d laid down the metaphorical pitchfork, your suspicion still lingered. You couldn’t help it at this point, it was in your nature.

“Hey,” you said, walking into the store.

Eddie whipped his head around to you and smiled. “Good morning, Lightning.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled when he shot you one of his stupid soft smiles. You weren’t sure if it was guilt from hoarding his sweater or a genuine effort at peace, but you pulled out the breakfast muffins you’d baked last night. Coming out to the counter, you hopped into the high chair and placed the second muffin onto the far left.

“Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that the second one is for me?” Eddie’s voice drifted over from the sci-fi section.

“It would be actually, that’s my second helping,” you said, hiding your smile as you turned to check the returns bin.

Eddie gripped his chest and pretended like he’d been shot. “You wound me, m’lady.”

With a light laugh, you shook your head and waved to the muffin. “You never eat breakfast and I made too many of them…”

His brown eyes softened, his hand coming out to cradle the baked good in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m finally worthy of a Lightning Special.”

Quirking a brow, you watched him take a big bite. He moaned around the food, your heart tripping over itself, and shook his head. “What the hell is a Lightning Special?”

“It’s what I call whatever you’d cooked. You’d always bring Steve or Robin some extras and I’d never admit it, but they always smelled amazing.”

“I would’ve given you some if you’d asked,” you mumbled, smirking when he shot you a disbelieving look. “I don’t know why you’ve got this idea I’m a gremlin or something. I’d like to think most people think I’m polite.”

Eddie snorted and you crumpled up your napkin to chuck at him. “Eddie! Fine, see if I ever bring you something else.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, rolling his eyes when you crossed your arms. With a dramatic flourish unique to Eddie, he walked over to your chair, bowed, and pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m so sorry your highness, can you ever forgive me?”

“Buy me a coffee on break and I’ll think about it.”

With a wide grin, he snapped his fingers. “Done!”

You hopped off the chair, your stupid vest getting stuck on the arm, and stumbled forward. Eddie’s hands steadied your arms and the both of you froze. Noses a few inches apart, you blinked up at him. “I-I’m stuck,” you stuttered, wincing when you heard your own voice. Mistaking your wince for pain, Eddie’s hand darted to the garment and freed you.

“Thanks,” you said, not able to look at him in the eye. Both of you awkwardly took a few steps back – Eddie’s hand coming up to the back of his neck.

“Right, yeah, no problem,” he stammered, walking back to the discarded muffin.

Not wanting the awkwardness to linger, shit – maybe you had gotten used to the ceasefire, you reached for his forearm and were struck by how warm he was. “I promise to bring you some of the baked stuff when I make them,” you said. Eddie’s eyes softened and you watched as they dipped, for a millisecond, down to your lips. Suddenly, it felt too hard to inhale properly.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said eventually.

The bell on the door rang and you both jumped apart. “Hi, welcome to Family Video,” you both said, a touch too loud. Amused, you shot him a look that he laughed at.

“Hi! I’m looking for Eddie – oh, hey Eddie,” a soft voice said. You glanced up and realized you faintly recognized the girl standing by the doors.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed and you blinked, surprised. The girl he was dancing with at the Hideout, your mind supplied. You watched her tuck a strand of inky shiny black hair behind her ear and you fought the urge to scowl.

Without any prodding, you pointed to Keith’s office. “Oh, I totally forgot I need something from there, right now,” you said, ushering yourself into his office before anyone could say anything.

Unsure of what to do, and definitely not wanting to touch anything, you sat on the edge of the chairs by his desk. God, Keith really needed to clean this room. Ew, was that a moldy sandwich?

Keeping the door ajar, you tried your best not to listen in but your mind wouldn’t shut off.

“Gareth said you wouldn’t mind, I swear I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate,” she said, her voice too soft for you to hear anything after.

Eddie’s mumbled something. “-I owe you one.”

“Thank you so much! Can you pick me up around eight? I’ll wear the blue dress from the bar.”

“It’s a date.”

A date? Your heart stilled. Of course they were dating – she looked like his perfect match. Trying your best to ignore the sudden pressure in your chest, you looked around for something you could use as an excuse.

The bell to the front rang again and you shot up to your feet, anxiety ricocheting. Grabbing the first thing you saw, an empty folder on Keith’s desk, you walked out with your eyes on the ground.

“Oh, you just missed Clara,” Eddie said, “you met her at the bar last week.”

“Yeah?” You said, disinterested.

“She said to tell you that she’ll sell you her kidney if you give her the recipe for the muffins,” he said, smile growing.

Your eyes, however, darted to the muffin wrapper crumpled up on the counter. He’d given it to her? The knot in your throat grew and you nodded. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed and you just turned to the shelves. “Hot date?” You asked, like the masochist you were.

“You overheard?” Eddie asked with an anxious smile. Jesus, you cringed internally, did he need to be so in your face about it? “I’m a little nervous to go but, you know, at least this time I know I won’t be stood up. It’s all a joke anyway.”

Your blood froze. “What’d you just say?”

The front door rang again, Robin’s face coming into your peripheral as she yawned. “Hey guys,” she said, eyeing your clenched hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you really just say that to me?” You asked, a little disbelieving.

“Say what? That I might not be stood up?” He asked, confused.

It was getting hard to breathe, the anxiety bubbling up in your chest. You really couldn’t believe it - Eddie could be mean, rude, loud - but he was never cruel. You both had an unspoken rule never to talk about it, and he broke it.

Not able to keep the words down, they spilled out with vengeance. “Wow, you’re going to throw Homecoming back at my face now? After all this time?”

Eddie’s face morphed into confusion. “Homecoming? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Right,” you snorted, the painful memories floating to the surface. “I can’t believe I thought you’d changed. That you were actually going to be nice to me.”

“I am nice to you! What the fuck is going on?” He hissed.

Robin stepped up between you both, her hand coming up to you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“He’s what’s wrong!” You blurted out, the tension of the last few weeks spilling out. “You know what you did to me – I thought we agreed never to talk about it. Wasn’t it embarrassing enough?”

“What I did to you?” Eddie half-shouted.

Robin shot him a hard look. “Everyone, let’s calm down for a second-”

“Good morning,” Keith’s voice boomed in the empty store. Steve walked in behind him, brows raised, as he caught onto the tension in the air.

Oblivious, Keith strode towards his office. “I just need to grab something I left. I will let you both know -- I’ve submitted my notes to the senior supervisor and we should have our first employee of the month by tomorrow!”

Feeling like you were underwater, you grounded yourself with Robin’s touch. “Hey, look at me, what happened? What did Eddie do?”

“Nothing! I’m the one who looked like an idiot that day!” Eddie hissed.

You stepped back, as if he’d struck you, and you realized Steve’s expression had turned thunderous.

“Hey, dude, that was uncalled for. I thought we talked about this,” he said, moving to stand by your side.

“Talk about what?” Robin asked again.

“Ask him,” you said, pointing to Eddie. Turning to the back room, you scrambled to get your things, tears making your vision swim.

As you stalked back out, you saw Robin holding Steve back by the arm. Bypassing them both, you turned to Eddie, anger coming off you in waves. “I can’t believe you,” you snapped at him, “you - you can’t just joke about that night. Wasn’t it enough that you just fucking left me there? You knew how much I liked you. I can’t do this anymore. Hey Keith? I don’t want the dinner. Eddie and his date deserve it.”

Without looking back, you slammed the door open and all but peeled out the parking lot. The grip on your steering wheel was so tight you were sure you’d have bruises. As you made you way home, you let your mind wander back to that night.

“Just go ask him!” Anne urged you, her eyes sparkling. “Look, he’s alone right now!”

Your fingers fluttered nervously around the hem of your shirt. “But what if he laughs at me?”

“He won’t!”

“You don’t know that!”

Anne huffed exaggeratedly. “Oh my God, just go ask him!” She shoved you into the room and darted away like the traitor she was.

Eddie looked up, surprised at the sound of someone else in the room. When he saw it was you, his smile bloomed. Your stomach fluttered, anxiety doubling. You’d only recently started talking to each other, after your biology project together last semester.

“Hey you,” Eddie said, dropping the papers in his hand onto the table. “What are you doing here?”

Sputtering, you stumbled over your words. “Hi. I – uh-”

“Are you joining the dnd club?” Eddie asked incredulously.

“No – hey, wait why’d you say it like that?” You crossed your arms, nervousness forgotten for a moment.

Eddie’s hands shot up, brows smoothing. “I didn’t say it like anything!”

“I could be here for dnd,” you insisted, not sure why you felt so indignant about it.

“Are you?” Eddie asked after a beat.

Clearing your throat, you tried to hide your embarrassment. “Well, no…”

“I knew it!” He said, grinning smugly. “What can I do for you fair maiden?”

You watched Eddie go back to setting up for his campaign. Glancing at the time, you realized if you were going to ask him – you had to ask him now. Before any of his friends showed up. Besides, if he rejected you then you had all weekend to sulk about it.

“Um, are you going to the Homecoming dance?”

Eddie snorted and your heart sunk. “It’s Sadie Hawkins this year. Who’s going to ask me?” He said, completely unselfconsciously.

“Oh.”

His eyes turned towards yours and he blinked, surprised by what he found. “Are you...wait, are you asking if I’m going or asking if I’ll go with you?”

“I-I…” You wrung your hands together, anxiety bubbling. Maybe you should just leave…you could lie and tell Anne that he said he wasn’t going. Surely the girls wouldn’t force you to try again.

Something shifted in Eddie’s gaze and you suddenly felt a surge of courage in your chest. Squaring your shoulders, you nodded to yourself.

“Eddie Munson,” you said, “will you go to the Homecoming dance with me?”

After a beat of silence, Eddie’s blank expression morphed into a wide smile. “Really?”

“I…I really like you,” you admitted, mortification softening at the sight of his grin growing even wider. “I’d like to go with you. If you want to go with me.”

Eddie blinked.

“Eddie?” You asked, stepping closer when he didn’t answer.

He jolted, as if he’d been shocked and bobbled his head furiously. “Oh, yeah – definitely, like fucking absolutely.”

You brought your hand up to hide your laughter at his half-screamed reply. “Okay, um, cool,” you said, scuffing your cleats onto the linoleum floor.

“Do you wanna meet in the parking lot?” You asked. “Before the dance?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, still staring at you a little incredulously. You smiled at him and watched as the red flush traveled down his neck.

“Okay, um, so I’ll see you later?” You asked as you heard faint footsteps coming towards the room.

Eddie straightened. “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday.”

With a grin, you waved awkwardly and darted out the room. Before you could fully let the door close, you heard Eddie’s loud ‘yessss!’

Not able to keep in your laugh, you rushed over to the doors and saw Anne leaning against the frame.

“So?” She asked, perking up.

Grinning, you threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “I owe you a milkshake.”

Anne squealed and you laughed, following her towards your bikes.

“I don’t understand, you talked to him two days ago right?” Anne asked, her hands fluttering nervously. Her date, Mark, looked just as anxious. The dance had started an hour ago and upon not seeing you inside, Anne had come looking for you.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He kissed me on the cheek and said he couldn’t wait. I told him what color my dress was going to be – h-he said his uncle told him that was important.”

“Maybe something happened,” Mark added, eyes wide. “Like an emergency?”

Not having thought of that, you straightened. Anne’s hand almost knocked you in the face as she pointed towards a couple walking towards the doors. “That’s his friend, right? The one he plays with? Go ask him! Aw shit, I forgot my bag on the table. I’ll be right back.”

You whirled around to look at where she’d pointed and hurried over to him. His date, a pretty girl in red, tugged on his hand as you made your way over.

“Hi, um, Jeff right?”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, eyes glaring. “What do you want? He’s not here.”

Confused, you took a few steps back. “I know – I wanted to ask you if you knew where he was? I’ve been waiting-”

“He knows, okay?” Jeff said with a sneer. “He knows what you did.”

“What I did?” You asked, not sure what he was talking about. Jeff’s eyes drifted over your shoulder to where Mark stood at a distance.

Jeff’s eyes hardened. “It was all a joke – a stupid joke. I can’t believe you even showed up.”

Your heart plummeted to your feet. A joke? He’d accepted as a joke? But Eddie…he couldn’t have…

“Go back to your real date and do us a favor and stay away,” Jeff warned, walking past you and heading inside.

Frozen to the spot, you felt the tears spill over as a hand wrapped around your wrist. Anne’s frown swam into your blurry vision and she shook you. “What happened? Mark, what happened? What’d he say?”

“I need to call…I need to call your sister. Would she come pick me up?”

“Jesse? Yeah, she would. But what happened?”

Not able to speak past the lump in your throat, you burst into tears and Anne’s nervous hands fluttered over you. “Okay, okay – Mark, go call my sister. Tell her she needs to come back now.”

It was all a stupid joke. Of course, he didn’t want to come to some stupid dance. Not with you.

You called out of work for the week. At this point, you didn’t care if Keith fired you.

For the first few days, like clockwork, Steve and Robin took turns calling your house. Your sister had made it her job to speed to the phone before your mom, letting them know that you were sick and couldn’t come to the phone. She’d been too little to remember your middle school Homecoming but, you promised you’d make it up to her.

On the third day of your self-imposed quarantine, your mom brought you up some lunch midday. “You know,” she said quietly, her hand coming out to rub your calf. “The supermarket was looking for someone to work morning shifts. It’d give you enough time until you start your semester next year.”

“Thanks mom,” you said quietly, still wrapped in your comforter. “I’ll check it out.”

With a soft sigh, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and nodded. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

On the fourth day, you finally decide that you’ve moped for long enough. This was something you needed to move on from. How pathetic to still be upset over something that had happened in middle school?

Except it mattered to you, your mind added helpfully, because you really like him.

“Shut up,” you hissed at yourself.

“We didn’t say anything yet,” a voice behind you said.

Squealing in surprise, you instinctively threw the socks you’d been folding at the sound. The cotton bundles bounced off Robin’s chest and you brought your hand up to your face. “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”

Robin rolled her eyes and walked into your room like she always did. Steve, a little sheepishly, waved and sat by your desk.

“How did you get inside?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Your mom when she was leaving for work,” Steve said, shooting Robin a look.

“I live a house down, I can see that you haven’t left yet,” Robin huffed. “Keith has us all on double shifts until you’re back Sunday, the least you could do is look happy to see us.”

“Well,” you grumbled, “I’m busy.”

“Super busy,” she said, motioning to the laundry on your bed.

“Robin…”

Her indignant expression softened. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you both hated each other over some stupid high school clique stuff.”

“To be fair I didn’t tell anyone.”

Robin’s arm shot out too fast for Steve to avoid it. He grunted as her knuckles hit his sternum. “You told Dingus!”

“To be fair, I was drunk and a little stressed post-Vecna win,” you turned to Steve for corroboration and he nodded.

“She was,” he snorted, “she puked in my mom’s rosebush.”

A flash of that night echoed in your mind. You winced. Jesus, you really needed to stay away from tequila. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you told Robin, “I asked Keith to keep me on closings. Just for a while.”

“You both can’t avoid each other forever. Eddie-”

Not wanting to hear his name, you put up your hand. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

Robin huffed. “But he said-”

“I don’t care what he said! He can date whoever he wants to date! This is such a stupid thing to be upset over anyway. I’m over it. It’s ancient history.”

You could see Robin turn to Steve. Catching his gaze with yours, you watched his eyes soften at whatever he found. God, you must look really pathetic if Steve looked like he wanted to wrap you in a blanket and hide with you. He shook his head. “Leave it alone Rob.”

She sighed, exasperated. “We can’t let this go on like this Harrington. They have to talk it out!”

“Robin.”

She sighed and flopped down onto the bed. “Fine. You’re both idiots.”

“Thank you,” you said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Robin frowned but let you change the subject to Keith’s newest blubber.

You’d made it an entire week of shifts without running into Eddie. Robin still grumbled when his name was brought up but she kept her word and let it go. Or so you’d thought.

Honestly, you should’ve known better. She was like a dog with a bone.

“Hey,” Robin bounded up to you as you locked the front doors. “Wanna see if we can catch the last of the festival?”

Checking your watch, you frowned. “We’re not going to make it. Doesn’t it close at eleven?”

“Yeah, but some rides stay open a little later. It takes a while for everyone to clear. Besides, it’s only in town for a few more days!”

You turned to Steve, who was swinging his keys around his fingers. He shrugged, his expression a little too casual. “We could pass by on the way home. I don’t mind.” Considering he was your ride, you nodded.

“Sure?”

It took you three another thirty minutes before you were all in Steve’s BMW, cruising down towards Waverly.

The entire park was dark, only a few rides lighting up what was clearly a deserted clearing. Robin, not one to ever be deterred, hopped out the car. “I think the Ferris Wheel is still on! Let’s see if we can grab some funnel cake.”

“Go ahead, I’ll follow,” Steve said, motioning towards a quickly disappearing Robin.

Wincing at the dark. “Am I the only one who’s retained a healthy fear of what hides in the dark after all our escapades?”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I don’t think Russians are hiding in there. Go on, you’re gonna lose her,” he nodded towards a bouncing Robin.

Hopping out the car, she beamed and immediately started towards the rides.

“Robin, I think the festival is closed now,” you huffed, trying not to lose her from your sight. She barreled forward, quick, and you were struggling to keep up.

“They said some rides stay open late,” she insisted, turning a corner.

Grunting, you jogged to catch up. “Jesus, what is the hurry-” your voice trailed off as you caught sight of the only illuminated ride. Robin was standing off to the side, her expression apologetic.

Eddie stood by carousel, his hands tucked into his pockets and his shoulders up by his ears.

“No,” you said, already turning around to head back towards Steve’s car. Robin’s hand caught you quickly, her grip surprisingly tight. “Is this a prank? Do you guys think this is a joke?” You asked Robin, feeling beyond hurt this time.

“Hey, no,” she said quickly arms coming to yours. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear. You know me.”

You did. Robin didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

“Just, hear him out? You don’t need to forgive him but he’s got an explanation. A stupid one,” she said loudly, and you watched as Eddie winced, “but I think you need to hear it to move on from all of this.”

“Robin…”

“Yeah, I’m not buying your whole – it was middle school, I’m over it, bullshit. Please? I’m going to be over there with Steve probably eavesdropping if you need me or want to leave at any moment,” she said, “Steve said he’s open and ready to punch anyone you need him to.”

“I punch harder than Steve,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Dustin punches harder than Steve,” Robin said, “it’s the thought that counts.’

You rolled your eyes, tears building at the corners. Glancing back to Eddie, you nodded. “Okay.”

Catching sight of Gareth, he waved weakly at you. Lifting a hand back, you ignored Eddie’s hand and climb up the steep stairs by yourself. “What’s he doing here?” You asked Eddie, your first words to him since that day in at the store.

“He’s doing me a favor and keeping it open for a little while later. I know you said you had wanted to come here,” Eddie explained, nodding towards Gareth who had moved towards the control station. You climbed into a carriage instead of a horse and sat.

Eddie, for a moment, looked like he was going to sit next to you but the withering glare you sent his way gave him pause. Instead, he made his way towards the horse next to your carriage and awkwardly stood by the pole.

“How long is this ride?” You asked.

“Three minutes.”

You checked your watch. “You’ve got three minutes Munson. What the hell is so important you orchestrated all this to get me here?”

He opened his mouth and you felt your anger flare all over again. “You know you really have some nerve,” you huffed, not letting him speak.

Eddie sighed. “Lightning-”

“-don’t call me that! I can’t believe you’d-”

“-I’ve been in love with you since middle school!” He shouted over you, chest heaving.

Shocked into silence, you felt your eyes widen and watched Eddie as his skin flushed.

“You were the nicest seventh grader I had ever met,” Eddie started, his voice straining to be louder than the music. “You were the star of the soccer team, fast as lighting. Anytime someone was mean to me, or my friends, you were always the first to come to my defense. You never said anything about my nail polish, our club, about the band t-shirts, or the shaved head.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “When we were sophomores and they announced that the Homecoming was going to be a Sadie Hawkins theme, I was crushed. It was the first dance we were allowed to attend and I had spent the entire first semester determined to finally ask you to go,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought, there’s no way you’ll ask me. We’d done that project together but after all that time, I didn’t even think you knew my name. Then, that day afterschool, you came up to me and asked me to the dance. I couldn’t believe it. I think I must’ve told Wayne about it like a hundred times that week. He’d worked a few extra shifts to get me my first suit. I wanted everything to be perfect. Then, a week before the dance, Gareth and Jeff had overheard the soccer team talking about you betting over your dates to the Homecoming dance.”

Your brows furrowed and Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d decided I was going to confront you – because, there was no way you’d made a bet. You were nice – you wouldn’t do that. I had barely gotten to the field when I heard your friends mention how it was all a joke. ‘I can’t believe she took the bet to ask Eddie out to the dance,’ they all laughed and I got pissed. I wanted to find you and call you out on it.”

What? Why the hell would your team say that?

“Eddie, I-” He held up a hand and you frowned.

“Before I could find you, I ran into Brittney. Who, after realizing I was looking for you, told me that you’d never meant it. That it had all been a joke. So, as a completely and utterly heartbroken fifteen-year-old, I avoided you after that. You’d slipped that note into my locker about meeting me in the parking lot before the dance and I couldn’t believe you’d be so…well, cruel. I stayed home the entire night, playing video games with Gareth and Liam. You never said anything the next day after the dance, Jeff didn’t either – he says he’s sorry by the way - then you started dating the men’s soccer captain so I assumed…”

What the fuck?

“Wait Brittney?” You asked, confused, he nodded. You briefly remembered how much she’d hated you. “Brittney Johnson told you I had been joking? That bitch.” Oh my God, you were going to fucking strangle her the next time you saw her. Eddie looked more confused at your outburst but you urged him to continue.

“While I managed to avoid you successfully, you were always in my peripheral and you’re so fucking beautiful it hurt. So, when you popped up in the shack at Rick’s house with everyone else, it was just the safer option with what was going on to fall into the constant arguing. You argued back so I thought, this was safe. We could both let stupid high school shit go?

Then…well…you believed me. When I told you about Chrissy – when we went back down there, you fought next to me. You were there when I woke up,” Eddie cleared his throat, eyes flashing.

“Then the whole best employee thing happened and uh, then it became apparent to me that maybe you had a different recollection of that week.”

Holy shit. You rubbed your temple as a headache bloomed at the base of your skull. You’d realized that the ride had long been over, both of you facing the lit Ferris Wheel.

Rubbing the tension building in your temples, you nodded. “Uh yeah. My friend Molly - the only other freshman on the team, had been bet by the other junior girls on the team that she wouldn’t ask out her crush, Teddy - a junior. She asked and he accepted but everyone was worried he’d find out it was a bet because they actually liked each other. That had nothing to do with me. Brittney was a jealous bitch because I'd managed to get captain over her and she knew how much I liked you,” you thought back to all those times in the locker room you’d spent with Jessica urging you to ask Eddie to the dance. “I'm going to rake her fucking eyes out,” you said to yourself.

Eddie blinked, looking dumbstruck. “So what you’re saying is that I stood you up for no reason. Because I’m an idiot?”

“An eavesdropping idiot,” you said through a disbelieving smile. “Although, to be fair, having Brittney confirm it for you probably didn't help. You should've...come to me. I don't - I didn't think you thought I was capable of something like that.”

“Right,” Eddie said faintly.

A little hurt, you kicked at the edge of the carriage you sat in. “I wouldn’t have done something like that – to anyone. I don’t… know why you thought I would’ve. I always saw how people treated you and hated it. I never let anyone on either soccer team mess with you or your friends. Even after...I was so excited to go with you - I thought you were really cool and sweet.”

“Sweet?”

The memory of the first time you’d talked to Eddie floated up to the front of your mind. “Yeah. After what you did in seventh grade…”

“What?”

You sighed. “I tripped in gym class and smacked my head into the goal post. I was mortified but you took me to the nurse’s office and stayed with me the entire period. You told jokes and made me laugh. I don’t know, I always sought you out afterwards. Besides, you know,” you said pointedly. You didn’t want to say it – he had to know.

He took a step forward, as if that would draw it out of you. “I really don’t and even if I did, I’ve had enough assumptions to last a lifetime.”

Not able to keep it to yourself, and tired of the misunderstandings, you shrugged. “You’re beautiful Eddie, how could I not have a crush on you? I thought…you did too until I was standing at the dance, in my new dress, with your friends letting me know you weren’t coming. That you’d never taken my offer seriously. Because who would want to go with some stupid jock?”

Eddie smiled before groaning and clutching at his temple. “Oh my god, I’m a fucking idiot.”

You shrugged, the lump in your throat growing. What a fucking mess. “Listen, its history, at this point. We had a massive misunderstanding, for years, and now we’ve cleared it up. I promise to try and stay out of your way-”

“No,” Eddie said quickly, “I don’t - I like being friends.”

“Is that what we were? Have we ever been?”

Hurt flashed across his face before he ducked his head and scuffed his shoe against the metal. “Do you think we could-”

“No,” you said quickly, your walls coming back up.

You had officially given up on this. This, whatever this was, between you two was too difficult to try and make work.

“Right,” Eddie nodded, eyes on the horse to your left, “that was a stupid question, sorry.”

Feeling the urge to comfort him, you clenched your hands into fists. “I’m not - I’m just, it’s a lot to process. I need to get my head on straight for Spring semester. I’m starting school and it’s been a lot with everything going on. I just…I need time. Maybe we can be friends for once.”

Eddie nodded dumbly, his eyes following you as you stood and made your way towards the steps. You turned to him and ask. “Why the festival?”

A ghost of a smile twitched at his lips. “You said you’ve been dying to go but had closing shifts almost all month. I thought, I might as well.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’ll…see you later.”

“Yeah, right,” he ducked his head and waved his hand. You stumbled towards the red BMW waiting for you in the parking lot.

“So…” Steve started. He grunted when Robin smacked him. “What? We're just going to sit in silence and pretend we didn't all hear that?”

Robin turned to look at you. “I'll egg Brittney's house with you if you want.”

Steve perked up. “Holy shit yeah, her brother is a piece of shit.”

You smiled, touched by their offer. “Let's just go to your house Harrington, you promised me a movie night.”

Steve huffed. “Does this mean you two are finally going to stop attacking each other?”

“Or that maybe you'll go on a date with him?” Robin perked up.

“Robin.”

“What? Like you weren't wondering the same thing!”

“I always knew he liked you,” Steve said.

“Yeah okay,” you snorted, finally joining in the conversation.

Robin laughed with you. “I did!” He insisted. “You should see the way he looks at you. It’s like he comes alive when you walk into a room.”

Your heart stumbled and you sighed.

“Dingus! You’re not making this any easier!”

“She asked!”

You let their bickering fade into the background, your conversation with Eddie swirling around in your mind.

“So,” Steve said, dragging out the vowels.

You glanced at him from where you were using his mom’s fancy mixing bowl for the cake you were baking. El had shyly asked you for the chocolate cake you’d made last year for Max’s birthday. Not one to ever say no to El, you’d set up camp at Steve’s.

Watching him struggle to figure out what to say, you sighed.

“Spit it out, Steven.”

“That’s not my name,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, “now that we’ve all sort of put this whole Homecoming business behind us – I was thinking-”

Steve’s voice faded out as you thought back to the past week. It’d been incredibly awkward for the first few days, both you and Eddie avoiding each other as much as you could. On the third day, your regular shared morning shift, he’d brought you a coffee from your favorite bakery. The ice hadn’t completely melted, but it was warming up.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Blinking away your busy thoughts, you shot Steve an apologetic look. “Sorry Steve, what’d you say?”

“I was saying,” he huffed, “since we’re all over this now, how’d you feel about going on a date?”

“What?” You said, completely taken aback.

Steve shrugged. “The girl I’m seeing asked me if I was interested in a double date. Her best friend, Sam I think, said he was up to it. I was going to say no but…thought maybe you’d want to?”

“I don’t know Steve,” you started.

“I just wanted to ask, especially considering that it’s been almost two years since you broke up with that meathead,” Steve snorted.

Rolling your eyes, you shot him a look over your shoulder. “You were friends with that meathead. It makes you a meathead adjacent.”

“I- don’t appreciate having my past drudge up that way,” Steve said, crossing his arms. You huffed a laugh.

“Where are you going?”

“Osteria da Fortuna,” Steve said, shrugging. “You and Eddie forfeited the dinner. I’m pretty sure it’s going to Robin who said she’d give it to me if I would go with her to a band party. I think her and Vicki might finally be going somewhere. Did she tell you about-”

You waved your wooden spoon in the air, effectively stopping Steve’s rambling. “What?” You said, some of the batter splattering onto the kitchen counter. “Did you just say Eddie forfeited the dinner?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, like a week ago.”

“What.”

Why the hell would he do that? You know why, a tiny voice inside your head said.

With a narrowed glance in your direction, Steve groaned. “Are you really not going to give him a chance?”

Not this again. “Steven.”

“Okay, hear me out,” he put his hand up, “I know. I know you’re hurt that he thought you’d be the type of person to prank him over Homecoming. I know you’re annoyed at this whole mess that could’ve been cleared up if both of you had managed to get your heads out of your asses earlier. But you didn’t.”

“I-”

Steve waved his hand. “Eddie was…is not everyone’s favorite. You know that. You’ve seen how the people we thought were our friends treated the people they thought weren’t worth it. He was fifteen. Are you that stubborn that you’re going to hold onto this from over five years ago? We’ve been through so much since then.”

“I don’t know,” you said, uncertain.

“Don’t kill me but, I think you’re holding on to this hurt because you’ve realized it’s easier. It’s always been easier to hate him, to do your little bickering thing. It’s easier to keep him at a distance because if you never let him in close again you won’t get hurt. But it’s been this long, you’ve both dated other people, and you both haven’t moved on. What does that say?”

You frowned. “That we’re stubborn immature idiots?”

“Yes and?”

You blinked.

Steve sighed. “You’re both so obviously into each other. Even when you’d fight, it was like foreplay or something. You both believed you had the right reasons to hate the other but you’ve both been hung up on each other. That means something. That’s not nothing.”

Letting Steve’s words sink in, you realized that he was right. Even when Eddie thought you’d pranked him, he’d always stuck by you. In the Upside Down, after every earthquake, he’d reached for you – arms steadying you as you fought your panic attacks.

He’d let you use his leather jacket when you were shivering from the lake water. He made sure you went through the gate first, his steady hands on your hips as you climbed. He’d made you eat a sandwich while you were all waiting for the party to get back from the gun store.

“Coming down from adrenaline is a bitch, trust me,” he said, nudging the milkshake in your direction.

He dove for you when the bats attacked, his body curled around yours as you both tried to buy your friends more time.

You thought of Eddie in the hospital bed, your hands interlocked. The way the dread in your chest wouldn’t lift until you saw his eyes open. Until you knew he’d make it through.

Jesus Christ, you still liked him. And you were doing what you always did. You were pushing him away. Even after he’d apologized and you hadn’t. Even after everything.

“Fuck you Harrington,” you said, standing and grabbing your keys off the table.

Steve’s eyes widened at your sudden departure. “Where are you going?”

“To the store!”

Barely taking a moment to lock your car, you stomped into Family Video. As usual for Thursday mornings, it was dead. Eddie was draped across the counter as Jeff and Eddie talked to him animatedly.

Slamming the door open, all three of them jumped and turned in your direction. Dustin, seeing your thunderous expression, darted away from the counter as you stormed up to it.

“What the fuck Munson?”

Eddie blinked at you, eyes wary. “Um?”

“Why the fuck would you forfeit the dinner?” You hissed, seeing Robin’s head pop out from behind the Comedy shelves.

“Because it wasn’t right,” Eddie stammered, “I didn’t want you to give it to me.”

“Are you serious?”

Eddie’s nervous expression morphed into indignation. “What did you want me to do? Go and enjoy it when you basically handed it to me?”

Throwing an arm out, you felt a headache starting. “Isn’t that what we’ve been fighting over? For almost two months!?”

“It didn’t feel right!” Eddie insisted.

What the hell did that mean? “Munson.”

Annoyance flashed across his expression. “I’m not – I don’t – I wanted to go with you. Okay? Every time I picture the stupid fancy Italian restaurant all I do is think of you. Everything all the time always reminds me of you. It reminds me of your stupid smile, the stupid way you give me shit for everything, the way the scent of your stupid shampoo is engraved into my brain,” he shouted, “going alone would be pathetic. At least Steve will get some use out of it.”

Your brain slowed. Your shampoo? Shaking your head, you got back to the point. The idea of that dinner going to anyone but one of you felt wrong. “Go with someone else, the grunge girl.”

Eddie looked like he wanted to throw something at you. Livid, his eyes flashed. “She doesn’t matter. That ‘date’ we were going on was her ex-boyfriend’s wedding. She was invited and didn’t want to go alone.”

Ignoring the way that made your heart flip, you crossed your arms and gave into the petty feeling swelling in your chest. “Well, I saw you two at the bar. Clearly, there’s something there.”

Eddie’s hands shot up into the air, exasperated. “I wanted to make you jealous! She knew, she was in on it. That night at the bar, she was teasing me about how into you I was – because even she could tell. Everyone else besides you is painfully insignificant. Okay? You’re the only one that matters. Since I was twelve. I’m pretty sure the reason me and Amy broke up junior year is because even she could tell I was gone on you. Give me more than a week to try and get over that.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession, and unable to ignore that, your arms dropped to your sides. “Are you…trying to get over me?”

Eddie shot you contemptuous look. “Well, considering that I didn’t realize I was the asshole that stood you up all those years ago and you’ve hated me since then and the likelihood of you ever loving me back is close to nothing, yeah, Lightning, I’m trying to get over you. So, excuse me, if I don’t want to go to a stupid fucking restaurant and think of you the entire time.” His chest heaved like he’d just run a race and all you could think of is how much you wanted to kiss him.

“You love me?” You echoed, like a broken record.

“Oh my god, is that all you heard?” Eddie started a verbal rampage, his arms flinging around for emphasis. As you watched his animated speech, you realize how stupid this whole thing was. Steve was right. You were so used to being guarded, to the traumatic events that seemed to never end after Starcourt, that you were pushing away something important. Something that could good, and you were risking it over your own stupid fear.

This was it, you thought, the second chance you’d always secretly hoped you’d get despite your anger and hurt. You weren’t going to let this one slip away too.

Before Eddie could start on another tirade, you grabbed the edges of his vest, hauled him across the counter, and towards you.

For a beat, you could feel his confusion radiating off of him. You pulled him tighter to you, your tongue tracing the seam of his lips. As if struck, he surged forward to meet you, his own arms coming up to your forearms. He whined as you softly bit into his bottom lip before pulling back.

“Fucking finally!” Dustin cheered. Jeff shushed him.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked dazed as his eyes darted around your face. “Please tell me you aren’t messing with me.”

“I don’t know about love just yet,” you said quietly, “but, take me to dinner and we’ll talk.”

Eddie blinked twice before a slow grin grew on his face. “Italian restaurant? Tonight at eight? I heard some place called Osteria something is meant to be great.”

“I thought you forfeited it to Keith,” you said, laughing when he vaulted over the counter and settled his arms around your waist. He pulled you into another kiss and, this time, snipped at your lip. You couldn’t hold back the shiver it caused. The mischievous glint in his eyes let you know that he’d noticed. “Shut up.”

“I’ll give it back to you two!” Robin said eagerly, her eyes lighting up.

Eddie, without taking his eyes off of you, pointed in Robin’s general direction. “I’m naming my first born after you Buckley.”

Robin snorted. “Hear that, Lightning? Your first kid’s my namesake.”

Eddie flushed, his neck turning a little splotchy. “That’s not what I meant.”

With a swift, quick kiss, you couldn’t help but place a second kiss to his neck. You watched in fascination as his jaw clenched. “I mean, there’s no harm in practicing,” you teased, smiling when Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

“You’re killing me Superstar.” Eddie lifted his head after a beat, his eyes catching yours. “So, what do you say?”

You watched his eyes dart around your face, as if committing this moment to memory, and you let your own hand trail a line across his stubble. He leaned into your touch, his lips coming to kiss your palm. Your heart fluttered, threatening to break free from your chest. Steve was never going to let you live this down. But, as Eddie ducked down to catch your gaze, you raised yourself up higher to catch his lips a third time. That was going to get addicting quick.

“It’s a date, Munson.”

AN: I am so sorry the ending is so weak lmao but I had the first 75% of it in my drafts for months. It was starting to haunt me.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

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erodasfishtacos · 7 days

Text

Somethin’ Unholy (sexclubowner!hxengaged!yn)

prompt: YN and Arthur have to adjust their arrangement. The first scene leaves YN hopeless and wondering if she should even come back to the club.

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: emotional infidelity (kinda, it’s complicated), d/s dynamics, mean Harry

author’s note: next part is posted on patreon & continuing to be updated this week💕 this is the last part that will be posted on tumblr.

to get access to the rest of this trope as well as 350+ other exclusive writings - you can join for $3USD! -> HERE <-

PART ONEk

+•+•+•+•+•+•+•+•+•

YN isn’t above this.

Actually, this is exactly where she wants to be.

Her arms are akin to jello as she slowly starts to move across the floor, the hardwood was rough on her knees, and she had to complain.

YN sits back on her heels, eyes sparkling and challenging, she was going to make Harry prove himself as a good dominant.

Harry raises an eyebrow, questioning but unmoving from where he stands.

“Hurts my knees, sir,” YN tells him, the ‘sir’ was patronizing and not obedient in the way it was intended to be used when he demanded it from her.

“The funny thing is…” Harry tilts his head, eyes tracing over every inch of her, “I didn’t fucking ask if it hurt. Crawl to me now.”

YN huffs, putting her palms flat again and moving towards him.

“Slower. Move slower. I really want you to feel that ache you were bitching about in your knees,” Harry tells her, his voice was so calm and monotone that it was making her want to get him mad.

YN does as he says but to the extreme, going so entirely slow that she’s barely moving any bit forward.

Her face is towards the floor and suddenly, there is a pair of leather boots in her line of vision, standing in front of her.

A hand weaves into her hair, twirling the strands between slender fingers, and pulling upwards without mercy.

YN lets out a high-pitched squeak at the pain prickling on her scalp, forcing her neck to tilt upwards to look at Harry who’s now squatting in front of her.

“Is that too rough?” Arthur echos from behind her.

YN shouldn’t feel annoyance, this is a learning experience for both of them but she wants him to just sit there quietly.

The way Harry looks up towards Arthur was downright terrifying.

A sharp, mean smile spreads wide enough on Harry’s face that his dimples pop in both of his cheeks, and then he tugs her hair until her head is turned a an uncomfortable angle, looking towards her fiancé.

“S’it too rough for the lil’ angel?” Harry asks in a mocking tone, his grip hasn’t relented and YN had missed this type of pain so much she could cry.

“N-no, it’s good,” YN manages to get out between clenched teeth before focusing her eyes back on Harry.

She didn’t want to remember that Arthur was here.

“It’s good, sir,” Harry lets his blunt fingernails tease at her scalp, “You’re being so awful already. It’s making it hard for me to want to play with you.”

If YN wasn’t in a headspace like this, she could logically identify that he was saying this to get under her skin, making her insecure.

But because her rational thinking isn’t as present as it normally is, it makes her chest ache, and her voice sounds small when she says, “I’ll be good, sir.”

Harry’s laugh is loud enough that she jumps, his hand loosens and unweaves from her hair as she blinks up at him.

He was ethereal under the dim light, all of his sharp features were defined, like they were from renaissance times, and he’d be unreal but YN was witnessing him with her own eyes.

“Did that spark a nerve, pet?” He teases as he stands up, leaving her on hands and knees.

YN only folds her lips inward, refusing to give him an answer because she wanted to get the biggest reaction possibly out of him.

When he realizes that she’s not going to reply, he runs his tongue over his teeth, “Right now, I wish you were really my sub. This would end so fuckin’ poorly for such a defiant slut.”

“Whoa, I don’t know if you should call her that,” Arthur interrupts with an affronted tone, like he’s trying to stand up for YN.

YN feels the irritation of his interrupting itching at the back of her teeth, she wanted him to just sit there and stop.

YN doesn’t realize that she lets out a spoiled noise of impatience, of annoyance at her fiancé.

It causes Harry to take a step forward, lightly pressing the bottom sole of his shoe on her splayed fingers, warning.

“This is a learning experience,” Harry scolds her, pressing down just enough to add pressure on her knuckles, “ He’s allowed to ask questions and voice limits. If you have an issue with that, there is no purpose to this session. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” YN replies quietly because she did not want this session to end.

It had only just begun and she felt such a spark that had never been there before.

This was visceral, different than any experience that she had had with Klein before they broke up.

The atmosphere, the way that Harry held himself with such knowledge and confidence was unmatched.

“Good girl,” Harry murmurs lowly, almost as if he didn’t want Arthur to hear, and he moves his boot away from her fingers.

The praise felt fucking addictive.

She wanted more of it.

But at the same time, she wanted to create mayhem too.

“Is that a limit for you? Yellow?” Harry asks Arthur, checking in like a responsible dom would do during a lesson.

YN hated that it took his attention away from her.

“Er, not necessarily. I’m…this is all just new. I didn’t know whether she liked being called that or not is all,” Arthur trails off unsurely but he doesn’t sound like he’s distressed, he definitely is a mixture of curiosity and arousal.

He liked this.

“Arthur,” Harry replies in a conversational tone, he nudges his foot against YN to signal her to stand up, “You will learn that it doesn’t matter what YN likes because she likes to be disobedient and insubordinate. It only matters if she uses her colors. If she doesn’t like something enough to stop, she will either use ‘yellow’ or ‘red’.”

YN stands, feeling awkward in how overdressed she is as Harry provides education to her fiance, this was such a weird situation, and she wanted Arthur to stop bringing her out of her floaty headspace.

“Right, slut?” Harry smirks wickedly, he stands with his hands behind his back, and pointedly not trying to touch her in any way.

She could tell that in this weird dynamic, Harry was trying to be respectful that he was instructing and not taking ownership of her as her dominant, despite her body screaming at him that that is exactly what she wants from him.

“Yes,” YN agrees, purposely leaving out the ‘sir’.

The smile drops from his face, he had thought he’d broken her, and it wasn’t that easy by just some hair-pulling and name-calling, it would take so much more, and he would learn her threshold for pain tolerances is high.

Harry’s lips press into a firm line and he steps forward, grip firm on her wrist as he jerks her forward, making her stumble into his chest, and he whispers into her ear, “God, if you were mine you would be broken.”

It was only loud enough for YN to hear.

But he takes a step back, letting go of her wrist, and an odd emotion she can’t read crosses his face before he announces to them both, “This is an instructional session as I’ve stated before. That was an example of power play but now I will move onto the next portion of learning.”

And something has switched, YN doesn’t know how to put her finger on it but Harry had suddenly become more formal with her.

More of a teacher, less of a dominant like how he was acting in the beginning.

She wanted the latter to come back out, a hollowness started in her chest when he walked away from her to sit down on a tufted leather bench, and a completely uninterested expression on his face.

“Strip down to your bra and underwear,” Harry replies in almost a robotic tone, none of the teasing and lift was there anymore.

YN is shaky as she rids herself off her trousers, the structured corset bodysuit she had put on, and she was down to her strapless bra and seamless thong.

YN wasn’t self-conscious, she loved her body and was proud to show it off but there was something about Harry’s demeanor that made an inkling of self-doubt creep in as she stood in the middle of the room where he had left him.

When she subconsciously goes to wrap her arm around her chest, as if to give herself any type of modesty, Harry clicks his tongue at her and shakes her head.

Without having to speak, YN puts her arm back down at her side and takes a deep breath, shaky on the exhale.

“Ask to come lay on my lap,” Harry tells her calmly, his legs spread enough to be obscene, a hand resting suggestively on his inner thigh, much too close to his groin to be appropriate in any other setting.

“May I come sit on your lap, sir,” YN repeats as steadily as possible, she wanted to be good, and she wanted to earn his interest back.

Harry is surprised by her compliance, definitely not expecting her to follow his instructions without a fight.

“Come here, now,” His voice is tighter, lip between his teeth as he watches her carefully.

“Ho-how, sir?” YN swallows because she doesn’t want to get scolded again.

“How do you walk? That's a silly question, are you a dumb pup?” Harry asks as if she just asked the most outlandish question ever, “Walk with your two feet unless that’s too much brainpower for you, pet.”

“YN,” Arthur speaks from behind her, still sitting but YN’s back is turned to him.

She knows she should look, this is a lesson for them, to learn how to do this, to model the play, to communicate better.

She knows they’re here as a couple and Harry is simply an instructor.

But she doesn't want to turn to look at him.

YN keeps her eyes on Harry, in an almost pleading to have him help, to speak to Arthur for her because her fiance kept dragging her out of the fuzzy headspace she was desperately trying to sink into.

Harry doesn’t let anything show if he’s annoyed by Arthur.

He probably isn’t because this is a lesson for him, he isn’t really playing.

YN was and that was the issue.

“Yea-yeah?” YN manages to reply after blinking a few times, almost like snapping out of a trance, and she turns to make eye contact with her partner.

Arthur was visibly flushed, his hand was strategically placed over his lap to hide what YN is guessing is evidence that this situation is turning him on, even though he doesn’t need to hide that because that’s mostly the point of all this.

“Is…Um, color? I just didn’t know you liked being talked to that way or…ordered around like that…” Arthur still doesn’t sound upset or necessarily bothered by the revelation, just maybe a bit surprised.

“Green. I like it,” YN nods because she wants to snap at him, tell him that she’s been trying to communicate that she likes this for ages and he hasn’t caught on whatsoever, but she doesn’t want to ruin the scene so she simplifies it down to that.

“Ask him his color,” Harry reminds her from behind, “You need to check in with him too.”

I don’t want to check-in with him.

“What’s your color?” YN tries to keep interests in her tone but these interactions with Arthur are taking any semblance of an actual scene out of her mind which she knows that wasn’t the goal but she had made it her own at some point when this started.

“Green. You look amazing right now and I -,” Arthur smiles so sweetly at her, genuine and honest.

It makes her feel guilty.

YN was pretty sure in this moment that Arthur would never have the ability to be mean to her in the way she needs, in the way that Harry can provide, and that leaves her with a sinking feeling.

“Get your ass over here now,” Harry cuts Arthur off mid-sentence, irritation finally settling in on his features.

YN walks as gracefully as she can over to him, standing between his spread legs, and he reaches out to run his fingertips over the curve of her hip.

It’s surprisingly gentle until he pinches her, enough to sting, and says, “Kneel.”

YN obliges, her knees were already going to be bruised from the hardfloor beneath her but by this point, she was welcoming the aches that were going to last for days after, to remind her of Harry.

“Let’s keep simple today, shall we?” Harry asks her as he runs his open palm across her collarbone, getting closer to her chest.

Right now, she’s blatantly aware that they haven’t done anything inherently sexual which she be lying if she said that it’s not clawing at the pits of arousal in her stomach.

YN doesn’t know if she’s ever been as attracted to someone sexually as she was with Harry.

She knew these instructional sessions weren’t for his pleasure but fuck, she wishes that she got to see him in action - real, in scene action, not this only sliver of what he actually has to offer.

YN nods in response to him, trying to be on her best behavior because her disobedience really hadn’t made him more prone to play with her further than teaching.

“Open,” Harry commands as he withdraws his fingers, thumb now moving to tug on her bottom lip sharply as she complies. As soon as it was, he pressed down on her tongue, with enough pressure that she had to swallow harshly not to gag.

Harry laughs as he watches her, never taking his eyes off of her, “You can’t even handle my thumb but you want to have the attitude of a girl who can take me all the way down their throat.”

YN can’t speak, can’t tell him that she can and she can show him.

Instead, her brattiness that she’d been trying to tamper down flares right back up as she sinks her teeth into the skin of his hand in a clear way to convey she didn’t like what he had just said.

It takes Harry by surprise, his features twitching just the slightest before he’s steadying them again, and pushes down further on her tongue until she actually does gag. Before he’s pulling his spit-soaked thumb out and dragging it across her cheek, surely smearing the meticulously applied foundation and bronzer.

There’s a conflict, YN can tell Harry is debating on what his next course of action is and he seems to be arguing with himself internally before he’s gripping her jaw and making their eyes meet.

“Cut the brat shit. I’m not your dom, this is a lesson. Stop getting so far into it. Save it for your fiance,” Harry’s voice is cold, mean but not in a teasing way, almost a dismissive way and it doesn’t feel like they’re playing anymore.

It seems like he’s actually scolding her even though she sure he probably just thinks he’s giving her a reminder so that there’s no hard feelings between her and Arthur after this but it felt like a knife in her chest.

YN feels any of the feistiness leave her body, it would probably be a responsible time to use her colors, and let him know that she’s bordering on ‘yellow’ because she realizes she’s misinterpreting this whole scene.

He was never going to get into the full headspace with her.

Of course, he wasn’t.

This was fully for teaching.

And YN was trying to fall into her subspace that she would with her actual dom.

But the text messages, in particular, made her confused.

Why would he have goaded her over text like that?

“Let’s get this over with,” Harry presses his tongue to his cheek, looking frustrated as he signals for YN to stand right back up.

“Alright, I’m going to demonstrate how to properly spank. We’ll do five, alright?” Harry tells her as he reaches for her wrist, tugging her until he can position her over his lap, face-down.

But you said fifteen in the text.

Harry is now talking to Arthur directly as he lands the smacks, informing him on the proper amount of pressure, placement, repetition, and timing that all make a difference to how the scene goes.

YN can’t even focus on the words, her fingertips gripping at the leather bench in front of her, and the hits weren’t hard, they barely stung but she felt disappointment at this whole experience sink into her bones.

After the five, Harry pulls her into a sitting position next to him before standing up.

“No comment then? Want to be a brat the whole time but when you actually get a spanking, you’re dead silent?” Harry questions, hands on his hips, and he just overall seemed…unhappy.

“I wouldn’t call that a spanking,” YN scoffs in annoyance but it no longer had any playfulness in it, “Is this scene done? I’m ready to go.”

Arthur is oblivious to the intense tension between the two, standing up and straightening out his trousers, wiping the legs off, and smiling widely, “That was pretty awesome. I liked it more than I thought.”

YN embarrassingly enough feels like crying.

“Arthur,” Harry’s eyes haven’t left YN’s, “Can you leave YN and I for a second? To discuss before you head out.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be at the bar,” Arthur agrees easily, trusting as he excuses himself from the room with a kiss to YN’s cheek.

YN moves to pick up her clothes, bunching them in her arms, and refusing to acknowledge Harry’s existence as she lays them out of the bench to try to organize them in order to put them back on.

“Look at me.”

YN refuses, shaking her head, and clutching her shirt in her fist.

She felt embarrassed, let down, disappointed.

YN doesn’t hear Harry move but jumps when his hand snakes around her waist, physically turning her around to face him, and god, why the fuck are there tears streaming down her face right now?

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks bluntly, his hand leaves her hip and that makes the tears fall harder.

She’s crying over a fucking stranger who sent her a few flirty messages.

“It doesn’t matter,” YN tries to keep her gaze on her feet but the finger under her chin doesn’t allow it.

“It does matter,” Harry argues, exasperation through each word.

“I…It just wasn’t what I expected,” YN replies honestly because Harry can see straight through her lies anyways, “I’m just disappointed but that’s on me for my expectations, it’s not your nor Arthur’s fault.”

“What were your expectations?” Harry seems hesitant to ask like they both know that the honest answer isn’t appropriate for YN being in a relationship, engaged to be married type of commitment.

YN squeezes her eyes shut, the words are stuck in her throat until his hand comes back to her hip, very cautiously rubbing a circle on her hip, “I…I know you made it very clear that this was instructional. It’s not your fault for my expectations. I just….wanted….I just wanted a scene with you. A real scene.”

“You should want that with your fiance,” Harry sighs as watches her, voice low, “You should want to do a scene with him, not me.”

“I get that you don’t want that with me, that’s okay-”

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?” Harry cuts her off, a defensiveness that she hadn’t heard before in his tone, his thumb pressing in a bit harder to her hip, pressing against the bone and purposefully.

“It seemed like there were a few moments in the scene where you were into it but then…you went back to…” YN trails off because she doesn’t know the best way to put it into words.

“I went back to teaching because I shouldn’t have let myself get like that in the first place,” Harry bites out, his lip twitching as it furls downward, “It was unprofessional. This was strictly educational.”

“Do you often get lost for a moment in the scene when you’re doing instruction?” YN asks timidly, unsure of whether she wants to know the answer and if she’s trying to make this more special than it was to him.

“Never has happened before,” Harry tells her, his gaze unfaltering, “I’ve never struggled not to fall into an instructional scene before tonight.”

“This isn’t in my head,” YN swallows, feeling a bit braver in what she believes, “There is…a compatibility between the two of this. In this setting.”

“Be that as it may, it doesn’t matter,” Harry’s words are tight, strained, “You are in a relationship, working on these issues between the two of you. So that Arthur can provide you with what you want.”

“Tell me honestly, sir,” YN lets the name roll off her tongue thickly, smiling to herself when his hand squeezes at her again, pressing and pressing into her skin, “Do you think that Arthur will be able to tame me? You can’t even do it.”

Finally, that familiar wicked smile spread over his tense features, his eyes twinkling under the dim light.

Because just like her, he loves a challenge.

“I could break you, over and over,” Harry steps further into her space, she was suddenly very aware of how undressed she was in comparison to him, “Make you into the sweetest little sub that I would never get sick of using.”

“That-that doesn’t answer my question,” YN’s breath was picking up, he could tell, and he moves to cup the side of her neck, thumb laying over her pulse point.

“The question of whether Arthur will be able to learn how to handle you? In the way you need?” Harry clarifies as his eyes dart down to watch the way his fingertips dimple the skin underneath them.

YN nods.

“You and I both know the answer to that,” Harry scoffs with a shake of his head, the smiling fading a bit, “No, I do not think your fiance will be able to give you what you need. He doesn’t seem like the type to suddenly be able to dom.”

YN wants to kiss him, drop her kneels in front of him, beg him for anything he’s willing to give her.

And yet, she’s engaged.

The ring had never felt good on her finger but right now, it felt like a fucking trapped life sentence.

Harry moves to take a step back which has YN reaching out to grip her wrist, “Please.”

He lets her hold him but sighs, “We probably shouldn’t do another lesson together. I don’t think that I can do another scene with you acting like such a fuckin’….a brat and try to keep it as a learning experience. I can set you two up with another instructor-”

“Why didn’t you set us up with a different instructor in the first place?” YN throws the question at him, “Raven said you didn’t play here anymore or teach. But you-”

“You know why,” Harry cuts her off, not willing to lay it out any clearer for her, “You know why and I can admit it was a bad idea. I should have thought it through and I shouldn’t have offered myself.”

“It’s because you want me,” YN lets a smile creep onto her face, arrogance filtering throug her veins and she takes his hand, bringing it to her hip once again, “You wanted to play with me. You wanted a chance-”

“And I shouldn’t have given into it,” Harry won’t let her finish a sentence, “I know from your paperwork that you aren’t in an open relationship. You need to go the fuck out there to your fiance and forget about this.”

YN doesn’t like that answer.

Of course she doesn’t.

But he’s absolutely right.

What she was doing was borderline cheating, by just engaging in their conversations that she wouldn’t have had if Arthur was in the room with them.

YN had never once thought about cheating on Arthur or any of her partner’s in the past.

She judged people who cheated on their signficant others.

And now all she can think about is how much she wants Harry.

She was royally fucked and she knows it.

“Fine,” YN bites back, her guard completely up and she turns her back to him.

She can sense his hesitation before he’s cursing under his breathe and slamming the door on his way out.

They don’t talk about the lesson.

Not on the way home, not before bed, not the next day.

Arthur doesn’t try to initiate any type of power play when they have sex that night when they get home from playing.

YN doesn’t see a world where they’re going to go back to The Body Factory because the lack of interest from Arthur about domming was blatantly obvious in his actions following their arrival home.

YN notices Arthur being much more distant after that night, just for the following few days as he was much more quiet, reserved than he normally was, and overall seemed lost in his thoughts.

She starts to worry that this all was just such a poor idea, for both of them.

“What is going on?” YN finally asks one night while they sit at the dinner table, across from each other in silence leading up to this, “You’ve barely spoken to me all week. If it’s about what happened on Saturday night, just say it.”

Arthur puts down his fork and knife, wiping his mouth with his napkine before sighing, “I’m sorry, sweetie pie. There’s just been…a lot on my mind and a lot to process after this weekend.”

“You could have just talked to me about it. I thought we were supposed to have positive communication about all of this while we figured it out,” YN lets her fork clatter loudly, showing her irritation but to be fair, she was much more on edge later than normal.

“You’re right,” Arthur agrees, his expression is soft and apologetic like it always was, never wanting to argue, “I…I needed to figure some things out for myself and kind of…process. I worry that I’m going to upset you with what I want to talk about and I guess I was just trying to find the right time.”

YN braces herself for what she knows is coming, they’re not going back to that club, she’ll never see Harry again.

“Just say it, Arthur,” YN sighs, rubbing a hand over her eyes and she knows her shoulders have slumped slightly.

There’s a pause.

“I dont think I can be what you need, in terms of dominant,” Arthur’s voice is cautious, “But I discovered that I, uh, I liked watching you with Harry. Like….I really enjoyed it and have been thinking about it a lot.”

YN’s eyebrows raise to the ceiling.

That was not how she expected this conversation to go.

Harry asks YN and Arthur to come into the club on a weekday night to discuss what they are asking from him.

They weren’t able to get a hold of them and the secretary was able to set up an appointment to talk about their membership.

YN and Arthur are sat in his office, dark with the green undertones accented throughout the room, matte and deep oak wood.

The door opens behind them, YN feels herself tense and Arthur must feel it too because he gives her a reassuring squeeze on the hand he’s holding of hers.

“If you’re here to cancel your membership, you’re still charge for the entirety of the year. You already signed a contractual agreement,” Harry’s voice is disinterested, dull as he rounds his desk and sits down in front of them.

“No, that’s not why we asked for a meeting,” Arthur is a bit flustered, eyes darting away like he can’t quite look directly at Harry.

“I’m not interested in doing instructional sessions. It wasn’t a good match and I offered you other educators we have here.”

YN feels like it’s purposeful that Harry hasn’t made eye contact with her once when he typical couldn’t take his gaze off of her.

Arthur’s hand is clammy on hers, making her want to pull away but she was in all honesty feeling the nerves of this meeting too.

She didn’t know how she would handle a rejection from Harry.

Even though she knew there was a much higher likelihood that he would reject the proposition than accept.

Raven had given Arthur a bit of information last weekend when YN and Harry were along in in play room still.

She had told Arthur that Harry hadn’t had a sub in the eight years that he hadn’t played at his own club.

Raven wouldn’t disclose what happened that made him stop partcipating and only faciliating, as it obvious didn’t take his interest out of this world or his ability to be a good dominate.

This was a shot in the dark.

”I am busy. Let’s speed this up,” Harry makes a point of glancing down at the very-expensive looking gold watch on his wrist as if he has a meeting with the queen after this.

”Of course, my apologizes,” Arthur instantly responds, submissive without even realizing it, something that makes YN’s skin crawl, “After the instructional session last week. My fiancée and I discussed our thoughts and where we wanted to go from there.”

Harry just blinks at him, heavily like he’s losing interest.

”And er, I definitely realized that I don’t have the capacity to be what YN needs in that aspect nor is it really my interest. However, seeing YN act like….”

”A spoiled brat?” Harry fills in, running his tongue over the front of his teeth.

He was so intimidating, just by the way he held himself, shoulders broad, head held high to show off the defineition of his jawline, and his faux calm demeanor like nothing in this world bothers him.

Artuhur chuckles, squeezing YN’s hand again, “I was going to say that she was acting so differently, free, and yes, bratty. It was unlike anything I’ve seen from her before and I do not want to be the one to dull that light for her. However, I still want to experience it with her…from more of a onlooker perspective like last week.”

Again, cue a twitch of guilt because Arthur was a good guy and he cared about YN very much but it didn’t stop her from the craving for something from Harry as it should.

”There are plenty of open doms here or doms that will have more than one sub at a time,” Harry’s teeth are gritted now, it was subtle but YN notices that way his fingers are gripping a pen in his hand.

”That’s not what YN is interested in,” Arthur’s has seemed to calm down a little bit, his voice more conversational, “We talked about it extensively and the reason we are here is because we would specifically like you to consider being YN’s dominant. It’s something we’ve both discussed and both feel comfortable with. If it is something that you would think about.”

Harry cannot hide the surprise, his eyebrow raises before he’s steeling his expression again, giving Arthur a bored blink, and he doesn’t respond right away.

YN just wants him to fucking look at her.

“You put clearly in your paperwork that you are not interested in other partners,” Harry settles on stating after leaning back in his chair, hand dragging through his curls.

”Well, I discovered uh…” Arthur starts to become flush.

”It’s fine, Art,” YN finally says, patting his knee, “Everyone has something there. This is literally the place for it. What you like isn’t unusual.”

“I like watching YN with someone else,” Arthur admits, looking down at his hands and trying not to become even more embarrassed, “And I feel comfortable with her being with you. I trust that you would take good care of her but also give her what I cannot.”

Harry narrows his eyes, “You realize what you saw this past weekend was nothing in comparison to what actual scenes look like, right? You’re agreeing that you're open to me doing whatever I please with her, break her, and it won’t be pretty much of the time. At least to the outside onlooker…”

”I know, I’ve done my research recently,” Arthur nods, he starts twisting his wrists between his other fingers as he always did in an anxious habit.

”I cannot give you an answer tonight. It’s something that I will have to think about,” Harry decides, sitting up straighter and tugging at his suit jacket to adjust it.

”Are you going to even acknowledge my existence tonight?” YN blurts out because she cannot take it anymore, he won’t even make eye contact with her, and she knows it's purposeful.

“Did the kitty need attention? Can’t go a minute without it, huh?” Harry chuckles as he slowly rolls his gaze over to her, eyes finally glancing up and down her body before meeting her stare once again.

YN bites her lip, refusing to give into his teasing if this isn’t going to have the end result she wants because the fire building in her belly is already back with a vengeance.

“I just think you’re being rude,” YN shrugs defiantly, crossing her leg over the other and bouncing it like she was impatient to leave, giving him a reminder that he does want to play with her - he’s said it himself.

That fucking smile spreads on his face.

The one when he’s challenged and he knows he’s going to win.

”I think you’re being a greedy slut but I wasn’t going to say anything,” Harry’s voice sounds curiously fond, enamored by her, and it makes her preen at the unspoken praise of his reaction.

YN scowls but when Arthur touches her bouncing leg, it drags her out of any floatiness that she was going to drift to, and it was probably for the best anyways in this moment.

“I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow,” Harry tells them, standing up and motioning towards the door, and Arthur thanks him more than once before starting to trail out.

As Arthur starts to head down the hallway, a hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist, stopping her for a moment, and causing her to look back at the person who grabbed it.

Harry’s eyes are back to the intensed, lock-in almost predatory stare.

”Do you think this is a good idea?” Harry asks quietly, so even though her fiancé is oblivious, he doesn’t hear.

”I can’t think of a better one,” YN responds honestly, “If I’m being selfish, yes. This is a good idea.”

“And if you’re actually thinking about your fiancé?” Harry prompts, eyebrow raised and truly questioning her.

”He liked watching,” YN acts like she doesn’t know what the underlying question that he’s asking is, “I think this is a good idea for both of us. We’re adults who are consenting and both talked this through at lengths.”

Harry nods, lip tucked under his teeth, worrying it until it’s puffy.

YN feels a pit of despair at his reaction, it didn’t seem positive, and it doesn’t seem like this is something he will agree to which he has every right to do but the feelings must flash across YN’s face.

”Hey,” Harry’s voice is softer, his thumb comes up to tug at her bottom lip, “Everything will be fine, okay? I’ll reach out tomorrow.”

”Okay,” YN sighs, leaning into his touch more than she hold because it was definetly inappropriate, “Just…please think about it.”

Harry nods, letting her go, and starting to close the door.

YN can’t be one hundred percent certain but she’s nearly confident that she heard Harry mutter something under his breath as he closed the door that sure sounded a lot like…

”Don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to you. M’fucked.”

YN checks her phone all day during work.

Nothing from Harry.

It makes her even more anxious when she gets a text from Arthur saying that Harry reached out to him and would like to meet privately that night.

YN patiently waits for her confirmation of whether he’s on board or not but the text doesn’t come in until after Arthur’s stopped at the club after work and they talked.

YN realizes that it was all very intentional when at right near midnight sends a simple text.

Harry [11:59PM]: After talking to your fiancé, I’ve decided that I will agree to be your dominant. However, that is contingent on how our meeting goes.

Harry [12:00 AM]: When your shift is done tonight, meet me at the club. We will need to have a meeting to establish further boundaries, limits, and expectations.

Harry [12:01 AM]: Understood?

YN is tired and insanely happy which makes her feel rather pliant and sweet.

YN [12:03 AM]: Yes sir.

Harry [12:08 AM]: Good girl for me already? Get some rest, kitty. I will see you tomorrow.

YN sleeps like a fucking baby.

The club is surprisingly busy for a Thursday night.

YN’s shift was in the evening and when she walked into the club, there were people playing in the free play area - very much already into their scenes.

YN knew she didn’t look her absolute best.

She had changed out of her scrubs, into a flowy dress that had been easy to throw on, and purposefully forgoing a bra.

YN had taken her hair out of her claw clip, smudged on some tinted lip balm, and swiped on a coat of mascara hurriedly in the hospital locker room before making her way here.

It had been all she could think about all day and now that she’s in the darken, moody atmosphere it was feeling very real.

YN doesn’t see Harry monitoring the free play from his usual spot, in fact, he’s not in the main room at all.

YN decides to go over to the bar, always in the mood for a Shirley temple, reminding her of her childhood a bit.

Raven was there, as always, looking radiant and unbothered as she greets her happily, “Hey! It’s so great to see you again. I wasn’t sure if I was after last week's session. I swear Harry had been in an awful mood after that and it only got better once you and Arthur came in for a meeting.”

That was…interesting.

“Did he say anything?” YN can’t help but ask.

“Uh,” Raven’s eyes dart to the side, shifty and avoidant.

“No, no worries,” YN soothes easily, not meaning to put her on the spot, “It was an experience. It wasn’t what I -“

“Hello there, beautiful,” A deep voice interrupts their conversation, a hand brazenly sliding onto her bare shoulder.

It wasn’t Harry.

The man was attractive, above average but held no light to Harry.

He was muscular, in a way that wasn’t YN’s type.

His muscles were bulging, like they didn’t have enough room until his skin, and he was making it obvious that he was flexing his biceps.

“I just saw you walk in alone. God, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Your tits are -“ The man begins to compliment.

Raven snaps her fingers, making a motion across her lips to the man to be quiet.

However, someone clears their throat, and all three turn their heads to Harry who was now standing behind them with a displeased frown.

“Hands off of her,” Harry murmurs, his voice is level, non-aggressive but still incredibly domineering that it wasn’t a recommendation.

It was an order.

The man removes his hand like he’d been burned, stepping back, and instantly apologizing the owner, “I-I didn’t know-“

Harry ignores him, glancing at Raven, “From here on out, please inform the guests that my submissive is off-fucking limits. Clear?”

“Yes,” Raven agrees with wide eyes.

The possessiveness as he puts his hand on her lower back was quite possibly the hottest thing that YN had experienced in her life.

The man disappears back into the group but is clearly passing on the message, whispered surprise as Harry guides her towards his office.

YN can hear bits and pieces of hushed conversation.

“What do you mean that’s his submissive?”

“He’s never once done that before. When he used to play, nearly a decade ago, he always shared his submissive.” “He must be down bad for her.”

“I tried to get him for ages to play with me. She’s been here once.”

“Well yeah but look at her.”

That’s all she can gather before they’re out of earshot.

“You’re off limits. They won’t bother you again,” Harry assures her as he guides her into his office, motioning to a seat before walking to his desk.

YN nodded, her heart was pounding, and she had definitely lost a bit of bravery.

Harry opens a folder, YN notices her handwriting, and realizes it’s all of the questionnaires and paperwork.

“This paperwork is fine for casual play but we need to establish more before I feel comfortable getting started,” Harry tells her as his eyes trace over the information.

“Your hard limits…” Harry trails off as he skims, “We have a few similar ones. Neither of us are into body fluid play other than come. As well as we both do not like temperature play, well hot wax in particular.”

“Allergic reaction made my bum cheek swell up like I got stung by fifty bees,” YN smiles shyly, it was so nerve-wracking, she was intimidated and he wasn’t even trying at that moment.

Harry lets out a laugh, a genuine one, a sound she hasn’t heard before and it was beautiful like the rest of him.

“I also had an allergic reaction. I thought my cock was going to be permanently damaged,” Harry’s smile is softer, the dimple still appearing.

“I still have a scar on my ass,” YN giggles, he’d find it soon enough but now he knows why she has it.

“Any other limits not mentioned?”

“No, I mean I haven’t tried everything but those things are definite no-gos,” YN tells him, her nails digging into her thighs unconsciously almost.

“And we will find out other things you don’t like along the way. Hopefully, we find more things that you enjoy,” Harry's voice is gentle, like he can sense her nervousness and is trying to ease it.

“Things you know you like,” Harry prompts, looking back down towards her papers.

“I like to be a…brat as you know. I really love the dynamic of pushing and pushing until I give in. I love making my dom frustrated and annoyed. However, if the aftercare isn’t sweet and extremely gentle than it ruins the experience for me.”

The smile had naturally faded off if his face, eyes intent on her, “You want me to wear you down? Until you’re crying for me to be nice to you but even then I’ll give you more. After we wrap up, you want praise, compliments, and affection.”

YN nods in agreement, “Exactly.”

“Was this what your previous dom gave you?”

“Sorta? We were younger and he was still really learning. He wasn’t as mean as I wanted but he struggled with that part. He was definitely a softer dom than what I wanted. He could only handle so much of me being a brat, it was a fine line because he would start to actually get angry with me and it was hard for me to tell. I never fully felt like I was able to push as much as I wanted.”

“You will be able to push as far as you want with me. If you think you can go hard, I promise you I will give it back a hundred times worse,” Harry's words are threatening but she knows he’ll make good on it.

“We’ll see,” YN pokes the side of her cheek with her tongue in an act of indifference

Harry glances at her from under his eyelashes, gaze darting down to her chest for a moment before her lips then her eyes again.

YN knows her nipples are outlined against the thin fabric, ready to be played with, and teasing right in front him.

“As for Arthur,” Harry’s voice gets serious again, “I already laid out to him all of his rules and expectations. I do not share in scene.”

“I heard other members saying you did share your submissives,” YN isn’t arguing, just curious.

Harry pauses, lip twitching before blinking slowly and very distinctly says, “I will not share you in a scene. Is that an issue?”

“No, I don’t want that either. I just didn’t know what made me different,” YN responds, picking at her thumb on her lap.

“A lot of things make you different,” Harry replies cryptically, he doesn’t elaborate nor does YN ask because he continues speaking.

“He will not participate. He will not speak. And he will leave the room when I’m providing aftercare,” Harry tells her firmly, fingers drumming against the dark cherry oak.

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was hesitant at first but aftercare is very important to provide. I should be the one taking care of you afterwards, at least immediately afterwards, and I take it very seriously.”

“That all sounds fine.”

YN has to bite back saying ‘can you ask Arthur not to be in the room at all?’

“We will meet every Saturday night. At the start of hours. You will not socialize with others nor will you participate in free play. You will be fully dressed at all times in front of other members.”

YN tilts her head, leaning forward just the slightest so she knows there’s a gap in her top, flashing him his first sight of her breasts.

“Yes sir.”

Harry’s fingers roll tightly into a fist, exactly how she would hope he would have responded.

“I cannot wait to make you cry like the little disobident brat you are, fuckin’ starving for anything I’ll give you,” Harry tells her, voice dropping noticeably lower.

“I’ve been good all night. I’ve said sir,” YN makes sure to sound as innocent as possible, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

It’s crossing a boundary, surely.

Arthur isn’t here.

YN cannot find it in her to care.

“Then I guess our scenes will be mild, boring,” Harry shrugs, his cadence going slower, deeper into his accent, “Shame.”

He stands up, taking his time to round the desk, and reaches out his hand, “I will walk you out.”

YN raises her eyebrow, “In a minute. My legs are sore from running around all day.”

She gets the perfect response.

Frustration.

Harry’s jaw shifts under his skin, teeth together, and nostrils flaring, “Get the fuck up.”

“Jesus, someone has an attitude,” YN mutters under her breath but obviously loud enough that Harry would be able to hear her clear as day.

She pushes herself out of the seat and turns towards the door, the opposite side of where Harry is standing to bypass him.

As she walks towards the exit, a hand reaches from behind her, his chest suddenly flush against her back, and a hand cupping the sides of her neck.

He pulls her back into him with enough force that it knocks the wind out of her for a moment and she squeals in surprise, airway suddenly restricted slightly.

“You’re cute when you’re brave, kitty,” Harry whispers in her ear, teeth grazing her lone, and he bites her - enough to sting, “I’ll show you a fucking attitude. One you’ve never seen.”

His fingers tighten for a moment and YN doesn’t think before she’s pressing her bum back into the cradle of his hips.

He was thick, unsurprisingly big from what she could feel, and she was craving that inside her as soon as possible.

YN reaches for the hand on her throat and surprisingly, Harry lets her move if, down over her collarbones, down over her sternum, and guides him right to her chest.

Over the fabric, Harry finds her hard nipple with ease, and gives her the hardest tweak she’d ever experienced, gasping as she grinds backwards.

“Enough.”

Harry suddenly takes his hand, his body away, and is standing at a distance.

He shakes his head, “We can’t be doing things like this. You know that.”

YN bites her bottom lip, she knows why, and she knows Harry is just trying to respect her fiancé even when she can’t.

“Yeah,” YN agrees, trying to stop the tightness because she’s in over her head, how can she only have him once a week.

Why was she so fucking in to him when she barely knows him?

When she’s fucking engaged, with a date, a ring, and her father’s blessing to be wed.

YN crosses her arms over her chest, embarrassed because she almost feels like she’s being scolded for her actions.

As she should be.

His hand comes to her neck, cupping it gently this time as he sighs, shaking his head solemnly before their eyes meet, “This isn’t a good idea.”

YN’s heart rate spikes.

“You’re going to destroy me, aren’t you?”

And the way he says it isn’t teasing but isn’t accusatory either.

It’s like it’s a fact.

“I’ll try not to,” YN peeps up, swallowing harshly.

Harry laughs wistfully, thumbing over the center of her throat before stepping back, “S’a bit too late now, kitty.” ++

Friday cannot come quick enough.

YN is excited enough that the buzzing in her veins feels electric.

YN had sent Harry a picture earlier in the day of a hot pink lingerie set and then simpler black one next to it.

YN [11:03AM]: which one, sir? [photo attachment]

Harry [12:34PM]: It doesn’t matter. You’re stripping the minute you’re in the room.

Harry [1:01PM]: I am very rarely spontaneous. I have had this night planned since I first sat you in the club that first night.

YN [1:02PM]: when you were playing candy crush on your phone?

Harry [1:03PM]: I wasn’t playing candy crush. I was reviewing your file virtually to see if you were available for open play.

YN[1:04PM]: i thought you didn’t play in your club anymore

Harry[1:04PM]: I haven’t in nearly a decade.

YN’s hands were shaking, excitement, confusion, and curiosity.

YN[1:06PM]: what would you have done if i had been available?

Harry[1:13PM]: I would have fucked you so well that you wouldn’t have wanted to even look in your fiancé’s direction ever again. That you would have chased after me like a puppy after that instead of it being obvious how much I wanted you.

Harry[1:13PM]: I wanted you to only be able to think of me every time you slept with your fiancé.

Harry[1:14PM]: I’ve never been a possessive man but something in you has sparked it for me. I typically share without a problem. The one time I actually have to share, it’s going to be a struggle. I’m willing to try.

YN felt that Harry was actually being vulnerable with her for the first time and she didn’t know what all of this meant. There is warning signs that YN is blatantly ignoring because he just fed her everything she’d wanted to hear.

YN[1:23PM]: thank you for trying

Harry [1:39PM]: I will see you tonight, sweet girl.

Sweet girl.

It felt different than the sweetie pie that Arthur went with, a nickname that she never had liked but didn’t have the heart to tell him.

YN may have reread their texts a few times as she got ready for the night.

She was going to have to meet Arthur there as he was coming from a work dinner.

Arthur meets her outside the club, giving her a firm kiss which takes her by surprise, he murmurs, “I cannot wait to see you tonight in there.”

YN rubs his shoulder, stiff when he kisses at her neck, and grips her hip.

“We should probably go in,” YN whispers back, stepping out of his hold to motion towards the door.

“Okay, sweetie,” Arthur smiles brightly, oblivious to any tension that YN’s holding in her body as he keeps his hand on her waist and follows her in.

YN had forgotten to tell Arthur about the rule that Harry did not want her interacting with other members before a scene.

And Harry clearly hadn’t communicated that with him because when they walk through the free play room doors, he guides them towards a group.

Arthur had made friends with a few people and they wave at them when they walk in, encouraging them to come chat.

YN feels herself start to panic slightly, this wasn’t good, off the bat she wasn’t following instructions and she needed to speak up.

“Hey guys!” Arthur greets as he pulls her with him into the circle of people.

“No, Art. I can’t -“ YN starts to frantically whisper into his ear as his brows twist downward in confusion.

Suddenly, everyone in the group goes wide-eyed, and YN has a sinking feeling that she knows exactly why.

A hand wraps around her throat, similar to the other day, and applies practiced pressure on the sides where her blood flows as he yanks her backwards into his chest.

His lips to her ear and it’s not necessarily what he says but it’s the tone.

It’s the dominance, the aggression, and something about it seems borderline primal, rasp and deep as he speaks carefully.

“If you think this is going to work in your favor, you’re very fucking wrong,” Harry warns with another squeeze, firmer this time.

Everyone around them is quiet.

They’re almost in shock.

And YN knows it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with Harry being openly dominant when he hasn’t in nearly a decade.

Harry must look towards the crowd, “My stupid lil’ kitty seemed to forget her rules already. You are not to interact with her prior or during play hours. Afterwards, it is fine. However, she is off-limits in every fucking sense. Understood?”

“Yes.”

All in unison.

Harry doesn’t acknowledge Arthur’s existence.

The hand on her neck was possession, ownership, and making sure everyone knew that YN was his to play with only.

“Sir, I-“ YN begins to try to speak when he lets up slightly.

Harry leans back toward her ear, his voice noticeably softer and quiet enough no one else can hear, “Hush. No play in front of others, remember? S’just for us. Now let’s go.”

YN closes her mouth and nods, eyes downward to avoid making eye contact with anyone who was watching.

Harry releases his grip, hand coming to intertwine their fingers which seems like such a stark contrast from where he’d been applying pressure to her airways.

It’s a quiet trek down the hallway, YN keeps her head down even when Arthur exchanges pleasantries with Raven.

Once they’re in the room, YN feels like she’s quivering in a mixture of fear of the unknown and anticipated excitement.

Arthur goes to the chair in the far corner without prompting, silent as he should be.

YN doesn’t plan to look at him at all.

Imagining it’s just her and her dom.

Harry is hers.

Atleast on Fridays.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?” Harry rasps lowly, stepping in front of her and studying her face.

YN shakes her head.

“Speak the fuck up,” Harry’s voice is substantially louder, meaner, and his whole expression has changed into something darker, malicious.

“No,” YN shakes her head again, biting back with a little attitude.

The same smile, deviant and enthralled with her response spreads on his face, dimples carving into his cheeks.

“Then let’s start,” Harry rumbles as he steps back even further, sitting on the bench, “Strip. Everything off.” + 👀 please let me know your thoughts! They make my day

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