#cig share&discuss

[dervngedgf]

Heyy so I'm wondering if you could do a smut for Jake x fem reader where he comes home from a long and frustrating day and reader is there to help him by letting him take out his frustration on her maybe a little kinky like choking and slight spanking bc that's hot ASF thanks babe ❤️🫶🏼

oh yes absolutely i love your mind.

requests: OPEN

cw: unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, frustrated sex, spanking, choking, oral (m! & f! receiving), slight!throat fucking, finger sucking, smoking (he blows smoke in ur face), porn with little plot, lmk if i missed anything!

summary: jake coming home frustrated and stressed after filming for a music video, hoping his sweet lil gf will help him release the stress ❤︎︎

word count: 2.3k+ / not proofread

other: jake is kinda out of character :( (still hot tho i love him)

You heard the door to your shared apartment open, a smile rushing to your face knowing it was Jake coming home. The smile was wiped clean off when you heard the door slam shut. He had mentioned recording something for a music video when he left earlier in the day, the way he mentioned it made it seem like it would be easy, minimal stress even. Concern flooded your body, waiting for him to walk into the living area.

He approached the room you were in, seeing you peak over the back of the couch at him. He was silent, just plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled out his cigarettes. You swear you blinked and one was between his lips lit.

“Baby I need a favor.” He spoke, not even looking towards you, but towards the tv that was paused on a movie once you heard the door open.

“Hm..?” You hummed a response, leaning towards him a little bit.

“Need you in my lap, preferably right now.” The way he spoke left no room for discussion, not like you’d tell him no to that request anyways. You scrambled on top of the male facing him, thighs straddling his lap. With all the movement he held his cigarette off the couch, not wanting you to burn yourself while you wriggled around.

As soon as you had stopped moving around the cig was back between his lips, the end lighting up while he took a long drag. Just as you were about to ask him what had him so upset a large, ring clad hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled your face towards him. You parted your lips slightly, expecting a kiss. But the smell and taste of smoke engulfed your senses.

You breathed in the smoke from his mouth like he was life itself and you were on the verge of death. There was a dull sting in your throat and lungs, but it was satisfying.

“Good girl, now breathe it out.” And so you did, puffing the small strings of smoke towards his face.

“You’re so good t’ me, I had a pretty bad day baby. You’ll help me feel better, right?” He asked, taking another drag from his cig blowing the smoke away from you this time.

You nodded, anything for him. He leaned forward, placing a hand on the small of your back to keep you close to him while snuffing out his cigarette that was half smoked in an ashtray that was kept on the coffee table. He ran his hands up and down your sides for a minute, causing goosebumps to form along where he was touching.

“Knees, you know where I want you.” You scrambled off of his lap and positioned yourself between his legs, looking up at him. He looked down at you, and even through the frustrated expression he wore so prettily you could still see the love and admiration he had for you. He cupped your face, thumb rubbing light circles against your cheek before grabbing your chin. His thumb now pressed against your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth slightly, and he slipped the digit in. Instinctively you wrapped your lips around his finger and circled it with your tongue.

“There’s my girl.” He offered you a small smile while you hummed against his finger. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and ran it along your bottom lip, spreading the spit. His hands moved to his belt buckle, making quick work getting it off and tugging his pants down to sit around his mid-thigh.

“Let’s put that pretty mouth to use.” You nodded with a small smile, more than excited to have the taste of him on your tongue. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few lazy pumps before wrapping your lips around the head. You began to work your way down his length, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft the whole time. Jake reached out and pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail, he loved the way your eyes watered up while trying to take his full length and the way your cheeks always turned the prettiest shade of pink.

“C’mon baby, wanna hear you gagging around my cock.” Jake groaned out, using his free hand to pull the plain white tank up up over his chest. The hand that was wrapped in his hair shoved your head down. Your nose pressed against his pelvis as you gagged. You looked up at him, eyes watering up.

As soon as the sound hit his ears his head fell against the back of the couch while a low groan was pulled from his chest. He used the grip on your head to continue to guide you up and down on his cock. The sounds of slurping, gaging, and his groans filled the room. You could see the way his stomach was flexing every once in a while, he was close, the way his hips were twitching was a telltale sign.

“Not yet..” Jake breathed out, pulling you off his dick. You gasped in a breath of air as he wiped away the spit that had slipped from your mouth with his thumb.

“Let me-“ He helped you back up on to the couch, pressing his lips to yours again. He slipped a hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your shorts. You let out a small whimper while trying to grind against his hand.

“Jake.. please..” You mewled, looking directly into his eyes that were full of hunger. He smirked slightly,

“Please what? Tell me what you want.-” He pulled his hand back, standing to rid himself of his clothing before taking your spot on the ground, “-Because if you aren’t going to ask me to eat this pretty pussy out like I’ve been thinking about all day, I don’t wanna hear it.”

His words caused your core to throb, it was rare that anything got Jake so worked up. But when it did, you were always excited to help him calm down. He wasn’t usually so blunt sexually, and it was most of the time all about you. But when he was like this.. selfish almost. It did things to you.

Him pulling your shorts and panties off in one swift motion pulled you from your thoughts. The cold air hitting the heat of your center caused you to shiver. The cold feeling was short lived, replaced with his warm mouth. You moaned quietly while his tongue swiped between your folds, gathering your taste on his tongue. He groaned against your cunt, sending gentle vibrations to your clit. You pushed your hips towards his face, but was met with Jake sliding his arms under your legs so he could hold your hips still with his hands.

The wet sounds coming from his mouth against you now filled the room along with your moans and gentle pleas for ‘more’. One arm slipped out from under your leg, Jake pressed two fingers into you while his tongue focused on your clit. He looked up at you, gently sucking on your clit while rubbing that sensitive spot deep inside of you.

“C-close..” You breathed out, tangling both your hands in his hair. He nodded against you, silently giving you permission to cum for him. It was mere seconds later you were falling apart on his fingers and against his mouth. Your orgasm rushed through your body, pulling moans and mewls from you. He fingered you through your orgasm before pulling away.

“Too sensitive? Or do you need more?” He asked, even though he wanted to absolutely ruin you, turn you into a complete mess, he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

“Fuck me Jake.” Was all you met him with, and it was like a switch flipped within him. He towered over you, pulling your shirt off leaving you both completely naked.

“Lay back, I’m gonna ruin you baby.” He chuckled, you laid back with a small giggle. Once again, Jake leaned over you, propping himself up by grabbing the arm of the couch beside your head. He was looking down between your bodies, guiding his cock into you. He slammed his hips forward with no warning, ripping a moan from you. The male leaned back on his knees, grabbing your hips with both of his hands and lifted them with ease.

“Fuck you’re so tight.-“ He moaned out, refusing to look away from where his cock was disappearing inside of you, he could see the shine your juices were leaving on him. “-Gonna give you everything baby.”

You were filling his ears with pretty moans of his name and praises, and he was hanging on to every sound like they were spoken from an angel herself. His hips pistoned into you, hips slapping against your thighs. You could already feel another orgasm approaching, and fast. But it was different from the one before.

“Jake no- ‘m gonna make a mess.-“ You tried to warn him between moans and the sounds of his hips hitting you. You didn’t want him to actually stop, but at the same time you didn’t know if you wanted to worry about cleaning the couch when that post orgasm realization hits in.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me baby?” He finally looked up towards you, his hips didn’t stop moving. “Gonna cum all over me?” He teased you, repositioning himself so his pelvis was pressing against your clit.

“Give it to me baby, cum all over my dick, make a mess on me.” Jake groaned, throwing his head back. Your moans got higher in pitch as you neared your second orgasm. It ripped through you violently, fluid rushed out of you and splashed against the front of him.

“Atta’ girl, cum on this cock..” Jake continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Even though the orgasm was mind blowing, you were even more surprised that he still hadn’t finished yet. Once your legs stopped shaking, he pulled out of you wand was met with a needy whine.

“Want you to cum in me..” You admitted to him, looking towards him with a small frown.

“You think I’m done with you? God, you’re too fuckin’ cute.” Your heart flutters, at the compliment and how you were still gonna be getting more of him.

“C’mon, up.” He helped you to your knees again, this time on the couch facing the back of it. You held on to the top of the couch as you felt it dip behind you. Once again he slipped his cock into you with ease. You let out a satisfied moan, the feeling of being full was always a weakness.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me.” Jake began to thrust into you from behind. Both of you moaning in unison. You felt a hand on your hip again, but the other one wrapped around your neck this time squeezing lightly. The restriction of air made your head fuzzy and the feeling between your legs stronger.

“You feel so good..” You squeaked out, struggling to speak. He loosened his grip the smaller amount, allowing you to breathe freely again. Jake kept his hand on your throat though, occasionally cutting off your air supply while fucking you. The hand left your hip, then your ass was met with a harsh smack. You could feel the handprint beginning to form with the sting on your skin.

He continued like that for what seemed like forever, a great forever. Occasionally choking you, or laying a harsh smack against the plush flesh of your ass. You could feeling him huffing and panting against your back, your fingers dug into the fabric of the couch- another orgasm approaching.

“M’ close again..” You whimpered, pushing your hips back attempting to meet his with every thrust.

“Wait for me baby, I’m almost there..” Jake groaned, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Your ass was on fire from the spanking and his hips slapping against it. Your lungs were burning from the on and off breathing. There was a dull ache in your core from the orgasm that was fighting to be released, it was all too much and not enough at once.

“Cum for me baby, let me have it.” Jake moaned and attached his lips to your neck, muffling his moans while sucking bruises into the skin. A pornstar like moan left your lips as you came undone on his cock, he soon followed after, spilling his hot cum into you.

You both stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily while he held you against his body. It was a comfortable silence, but you were feeling extremely tired after three intense orgasms.

“Jake.. I love you but I also kinda really wanna go lay down after that.” You spoke, voice raspy from all the moaning. You heard a chuckle behind you before his warmth left you.

“Me too not gonna lie. C’mere.” Jake lifts you into his arms and carried you to the shared bedroom. He places you on the bed and covers your naked body with a blanket before leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be right back, stay put.” He points at you and scowls jokingly. He left the room and came back with a water bottle for each of you. After placing yours on the table next to the bed he takes a swig out of his the climbs into bed next to you. You move to cuddle into him, he wraps you in his arms with your head on his chest.

“I love you baby, I appreciate you and everything you do for me so much, you don’t even know.” He hums out, fighting sleep. You don’t say anything, you don’t have the energy to. But the love you have for him in your heart only blooms stronger every day. Soon enough there’s soft snoring, and you allow yourself to fall asleep to the rise and fall of his chest and the rhythm of his heartbeat.

A/N : skgogkwosz i hope you likes it. i didn’t know how to write jake being kinda mean and frustrated bc he’s just so laid back and goofy LOLL

#jake webber smut #jake webber x you #jake webber x reader #jake webber one shot #jake webber one shots #deranged asks!

[eddies-ashtray]

When The Rain Starts To Pour ⌂ Chapter 1: The One Where Eddie Hates Paul

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Chapter Preview: 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

CW: Brief discussion of financial struggles, vague talk of poor parental relationship (not necessarily abusive though), jealousy, loneliness, reader talks of being unhappy in her previous life circumstances, probably lots of bad jokes, poorly concealed Friends references, age gap (between reader and Paul), lots of tropes, non-canon compliant (duh—but also the upside-down does not exist), kinda pervy/douchey behaviour from Paul (nothing crazy though, just generally douchey).

 WC: 17.4k

 A/N: Ah! It’s finally here! I am so so so excited to share this first chapter with you after so long. I really hope it lives up to expectations. I just wanna note that while writing, I imagined the coffee shop and the apartments from Friends, so the decor and layout of each of those places are pretty much the exact same in my descriptions of them. Here’s a link to the apartments and coffee shop layouts if you’re interested. Also, I am going to do the best I can to make this era- and setting-appropriate, but keep in mind that I was not born in the 90s, nor am I from New York City (or the US in general), so there may be some inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of my rambling, happy reading!!

Series Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Next Chapter [coming soon]

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“I’m so broke it’s not even funny! Like, seriously, look,” Robin exclaims before placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and proceeding to lean back awkwardly on the couch so she can turn her pockets out. They are indeed empty–a metaphorical sign of her poverty. 

Nancy clicks her tongue from her spot on a sage green chair next to the couch, reaching over to place a coaster under Robin’s steaming mug. 

It’s a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at The Ugly Mug, only a couple other patrons milling about and occupying the various other seats around the small establishment. There’s a short woman with long, thin braids seated by the large front window and a stout man in a purple beanie sitting on one of the stools near the coffee bar. There’s also been the occasional patron coming in to pick up a to-go order–bringing in with them a rush of chilly November air–before rushing back out the dark wooden doors. 

“I’m fucking screwed. I can’t afford that big, stupid place alone,” Robin complains, retrieving her tea from the table after she’s tucked her pockets back into her jeans. 

“You could always get a second job,” Eddie offers from the opposite end of the couch, an oversized red mug half-full of very sugary coffee in hand. “Ya know, moonlight as a rockstar like some of the rest of us?” 

Robin rolls her eyes at his over-exaggeration and looks over at him as she replies, “Don’t you guys get, like, one gig per month?” 

“No…We get two gigs per month,” Eddie corrects like the disparity between her answer and his had been larger than it was. 

When he realizes that his correction wasn’t much of a correction, he adds, slightly more helpful this time, “But it’s better than just working in the restaurant. At least I get a little extra every month.” 

Robin sighs. “I guess…But it’d suck to double my exhaustion just to take another job I hate. At least your second job is something you love...I wish I could get, like, a raise or something,” She complains, head falling back against the couch in frustration. 

From beside her, Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder, placing his own mug of coffee on the table before doing so. “Why don’t you-”

“No,” She replies before he can finish. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve defends and Robin lolls her head to the side to shoot him a deadpan stare. 

“I am not putting an ad in the newspaper,” She states plainly. 

“It’s a strategy! How else would you find a roommate?” 

“I agree with Robin,” Nancy pipes up from Robin’s other side. “It’s not safe, Steve. There’s so many freaks out there; you don’t know who you’re inviting into your home.”

“I live with a freak and I’m fine,” Steve jokes. 

“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, mildly offended, and slaps Steve on the arm halfheartedly. “It’s been six years, Harrington, when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

“How about never!” Steve bites back childishly. All too quickly their civilized conversation about Robin’s living situation devolves into an immature argument between two grown men. It’s almost surprising how they manage to live together and not tear each other’s heads off. Despite their silly arguments though, they surprisingly get along quite well–most of the time. 

“Hey! Can we get back on topic, please?” Nancy interrupts, mildly anxious about the eyes of the other patrons on them. Normally, she wouldn’t let others’ judgment get to her; she’s aware that she hangs around a pretty rowdy group of adults, but it’s so quiet in here today and she’d like to keep it that way. 

“Actually, I’m perfectly content right in the middle of this. I could use a distraction,” Robin says, settling into the couch beside the two bickering men.

Sighing contentedly, Robin gets comfortable and shuts her eyes, the soft light of the café causing the back of her eyelids to glow a soft orange. The boys’ bickering continues to her right as Nancy reaches over from her left to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Robin opens her eyes again to turn to her and gives her a tight-lipped smile. 

“I need a roommate,” she concludes, tone solemn. Nancy’s lips part, about to impart some advice when-

The small golden bell above the door tinkles its charming chime as it opens, and in rushes the late November bite, and a frazzled-looking young woman. As she enters the space, she makes such a commotion that Robin startles and turns to take a look at who’s causing the ruckus. The others turn to the door as well (including Steve and Eddie whose bickering has now ceased altogether due to the interruption). 

In her tow is one large suitcase, in her hand is a large black trash bag (the plastic material stretching into a grey colour in some areas), and on her back is a large backpack (stuffed so full that the biggest pocket isn’t even zipped all the way). 

It must have begun to rain at some point during their hours’ long stay at the coffee shop because the woman appears to be quite damp without an umbrella or hood on her jacket. 

Finally, Robin's eyes land on the woman’s face. In a shock, she realizes that she recognizes her. However, seeing as none of her friends are acquainted with the woman, they’re rather occupied by the seemingly magical appearance of this person who looks to be in need of a place to stay at the exact moment that Robin expressed her need for a roommate. The four of them gawk at the woman with the luggage for a moment until someone can’t help himself and must break the silence to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. 

“And I want to be rich and famous!” Eddie exclaims, gesturing widely to the door. Unfortunately, his wish does not manifest as Robin’s had. 

Robin passes her tea to Steve, who takes it without question as she stands from her spot on the couch, passing Nancy as she rounds it. The woman is at the counter now, though as Robin nears her, the woman is not ordering a coffee or any other warm beverage. 

“Excuse me? Do you know-” You begin, but before you can finish asking the café employee about your friend's whereabouts, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder. 

 “Y/N?” 

Immediately, you recognize her voice and turn around. Many summers and phone calls throughout your childhood and teen years had familiarized you with it. 

Once you’re face-to-face, relief releases the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders. After over 12 hours of driving across the country (maybe more, you stopped keeping track at some point), countless times getting lost (your sense of direction completely failing you, even with the aid of a map and any living soul you came across), many pit stops at dank, shady rest stops, and a lot of fast food later, you’re just happy to see a familiar face. 

“Robin! Thank God! I went to your apartment-” you begin, eager to recount the story of your travels. 

“My apartment?” Robin asks, confused that you’d known her address. 

“-but you weren’t there! And I almost left to look for you myself, but then your neighbour saw me knocking and told me I could probably find you here-”

“My neighbour?”

“-and I thought, ‘It’s worth a shot,’, so I dragged all my shit back down the stairs and through the stupid rain and you’re here! But, come to think of it, I don’t even know why I brought all this stuff up with me instead of just leaving it in the car. Like, that was sort of presumptuous of me to show up at your door with a bunch of luggage, but I guess it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea to leave it in that parking garage anyway,” You finish your rambling, out of breath now and slightly lightheaded. 

That was likely an inappropriate way to greet her after all this time, but you find that you’re exhausted from your travels and electrified with adrenaline from your impulsive decision to come to New York. 

At first, it was nice to get out and stretch your legs after spending half a day in your car, and walk around this new city in search of Robin’s apartment, but now you could just collapse right here on this scuffed hardwood floor. 

Robin’s brows furrow as she tries to process your word vomit, but still cannot find an answer for her biggest question. Though she’s concerned that one of her neighbour’s so easily gave away her location to a stranger who was banging on her door and curious to know how you’d found her apartment, she’s more interested in your story for now. In learning what got you here after all this time.

“Why are you here? I mean-it-it’s great to see you, but, um-why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Robin suggests, leading you gently towards the couch. 

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, navigating carefully around velvet-upholstered stools with your bags in hand. 

A man with long hair and tattoos stands from the couch to take a seat on a chair to his right in order to accommodate you as Robin helps you place your bags on the floor next to the woman with the curly hair and high cheekbones. 

Finally, you sit down on the plush orange couch next to a happy looking guy with gorgeous, voluminous hair. He smiles at you kindly once you’re settled in and you breathe out, willing yourself to relax so you can attempt to coherently explain your situation to your friend and, apparently, these strangers. 

Their eyes on you make you nervous, but once Robin takes her seat next to you, you feel more at ease. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robin reassures as she tucks her legs underneath herself on the couch. You nod, taking one more deep breath and collecting your thoughts before beginning. 

“So-I know this is, like, totally crazy that I just kinda showed up here out of the blue after, what? 5, 6 years?” You begin nervously, looking to Robin for confirmation on how long it’s been since you last saw each other. She nods after turning her body to face you. 

“But I just–I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this but–I felt like I was on autopilot or something, just kind of drifting through my days: going to work at a boring job with boring people, coming home to my shitty apartment, going to sleep, and doing it all over again and again and again.”

In your periphery, you notice a few of them nodding in agreement and feel relieved at their earnest validation. It gives you the strength to continue your story. 

“And one day I guess I woke up? I realized that I hated where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, what I wasn’t doing. I just sort of…panicked. I knew I couldn’t stay there–in that life and that apartment cause it was, like, a total shithole-”

“Why was it a shithole?” A voice interrupts from your right; The One With The Tattoos. You’d been so into your story for those 30-some-odd seconds that you nearly forgot that it was more than just Robin you were venting to. He seems genuinely curious and well-meaning, so you’re not perturbed by his interruption, only surprised, which is what causes you to pause before answering his question. 

In the moment you take before you respond, you clock the bat tattoo on his forearm (though you’d recognized his inked skin earlier, you hadn’t examined the art close enough to discern what the tattoos were of), among a smattering of many other patchwork tattoos, and hope you remember to ask him about it later (if there is a later with these people–there’s all the chance that Robin could send you packing). 

Finally, you shake off your surprise and respond, “Well, aside from the fact that my apartment was definitely mold-infested and my building had a serious rat problem, my landlord was a total creep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” He agrees, brows furrowing.

“Yeah. So, I just couldn’t live there anymore, or go back to work, and I definitely was not about to go back home to live with my mother–phone calls once a week are already more than I can handle, I don’t think I could take her constant scrutiny for more than 30 minute increments,” You explain, scoffing lightly. “But, um-” You stutter, looking down at your lap and pulling at the skin of your hand absentmindedly. 

“Anyway…I panicked and I decided that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, so two weeks ago, I put in my two weeks at work and pretty much packed up my whole life into my car and started driving without a destination…And then I remembered hearing that you’d moved to New York a few years back,” You recall, gesturing to Robin, who smiles warmly back at you.

“So I looked you up in the phone book and when I found your name I just felt like it was the right thing? Which I know sounds kinda kooky, but it was the first good feeling I’d had about something in a long time, so I just decided that I needed to trust it,” You conclude, squeezing your hands in your lap. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since it’s been so long, but…is there any chance at all that you might need a roommate?” 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When you step inside the apartment, you immediately love the place. For one, it’s bigger than your old apartment and even has a pretty sizable balcony (that can only be accessed through a window). To your left is the kitchen with exposed brick, a simple small table with four mismatched chairs surrounding it in the middle. 

Just past the modest kitchen is the living area, which is just as eclectically decorated as the kitchen with a sofa, a fluffy looking armchair and an armless chair adjacent to each other, a coffee table, and a television set sitting atop a sideboard. Two doors are on either side of the living room. To the left of the living room is a large window (complete with a cozy looking window seat) which looks out onto the balcony. 

You marvel at the place as Robin leads through the apartment, the rest of the crew following in behind you two before the door slams shut and you enter what appears to be a bedroom slash storage space. Despite the bed in the middle, there are things strewn about on the floor, seemingly haphazardly tossed in here and forgotten about. 

After introductions to the group (you now know their names and the fact that Eddie and Steve live across the hall, while Nancy lives a few blocks away), Robin had informed you the available room at her place might be a bit of a mess since she’s been using it as storage space for a while. The only guests she has live close by enough that sleepovers were a rarity. 

“So, this’ll be your room,” Robin explains, rolling your bursting suitcase inside it. Steve enters last, dropping your trash bag full of clothes to the yellow-ish hardwood floor and you do the same with your backpack. 

It’s a fairly nice room; a simple square spacious enough to fit the queen size bed and a side table, while also allowing extra room still for a chest of drawers and vanity (which you will eventually add to the room). 

Though anything without rats, mold, and a creepy landlord would be an improvement, this place is a definite upgrade from your last and you find yourself containing a joyous squeal as you take it all in. You’ve never been a fan of change–enjoying the comfort of familiarity instead–and have always agonized over every decision you’ve made, but for once, you have no doubts about your decision to come here. This actually feels like the first real decision you have ever made. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When Steve opens the building's front door, the smell of fresh rain and pavement hangs in the air, an oddly nostalgic scent. It reminds you of childhood, of early mornings at summer camp with Robin. 

The sun hangs low and bright orange in the sky–it’s getting late so you’ll probably only be able to make one trip to your car and back before the sun goes down, and then have to collect the rest of your things tomorrow. 

Though you grabbed as much as you could carry from your car (which remains parked in a garage about three blocks away) before going in search of Robin’s apartment, you obviously couldn’t take everything with you, so the bags you just dropped off at your new place were only a fraction of the things packed away in your vehicle. 

Robin’s friends kindly offered to help you drag the rest of your belongings back to her apartment. Since none of them have a car, and it is apparently nearly impossible to find parking in this city, you have no choice but to carry everything back by hand. 

You lead the way to the parking garage, Robin at your side and the rest of the gang following behind you. 

As you walk through the city, past storefronts, HELP WANTED signs in windows, and people with briefcases in long coats and giant scarves walking briskly like they have someplace important to be, you’re reminded of an imperative piece of information.

“Robin?” You say as you cross the street. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t have a job here.” 

The whole reason Robin was looking for a new roommate in the first place was because she can no longer afford her place on her own. And you, as her new roommate, have been recruited to help solve that problem for her. But without a job, and a bank account that is less than impressive, you’re on the clock to find a new job–and fast. 

“You can work at Hannigan’s with Eddie and I!” She offers excitedly, her hand smacking your arm in her enthusiasm. Sorry! She apologizes quickly before continuing: “We’ve been working there forever, I can put in a good word for you with the owner.” 

“That sounds great…But what’s ‘Hannigan’s’?” You ask, because in her haste to offer a solution to your little problem, she had left out vital information. Eddie pipes up from the rear and steps forward so he can walk in step with you and Robin as he answers your question. 

The way the sun hits him from behind outlines his body in a soft orange halo, causing his long hair to shine in the early evening light. This lighting softens his features, making him look angelic and pretty as his pale skin glows. You find yourself content watching him as he speaks.  

“It’s one of those fancy upscale restaurants. The tips are usually pretty good, but sometimes you gotta endure some light harassment to get them,” Eddie explains, and when he sees the apprehensive look on your face, he jumps to reassure you: “Sometimes we get to take home leftovers though.”

“By ‘get to take’, he means steal,” Steve corrects and you look to Robin for confirmation.

She just shrugs. “They’d go to waste anyway.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to invest in some armour, then,” You say, implying that physical armour could somehow protect you from rude customers. Eddie smiles at that, a dimple carving into his cheek. Briefly, you note how charming his smile is, but before you can stare too long, Robin grabs your attention by lightly elbowing you. 

“Don’t worry, snooty rich people can’t be as bad as Harrington's snotty children,” She says. 

“Oh! You have kids?” You wonder, turning to Steve as he strides along casually a few steps behind you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. 

“No, not yet. I work at one of the preschools in the area,” Steve supplies. 

“Oh, nice. You like working with kids?” You wonder. 

His answer is apparent on his face which lights up instantly at the question. “Love it. The kids are really great, and so much more capable than people give them credit for! People are quick to dismiss kids, especially four and five year olds, but they understand more than you think.” Steve rambles, his passion clear. 

“Hey, is this the garage?” Robin asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. 

It is. The place you left your car a mere two hours ago, nervous and unsure of what came next. But now you have a new place, something akin to a job offer, and three kind strangers and one old friend by your side. 

Once you reach your car–which is parked all the way on the top floor–you unlock the back seat doors. 

“Okay, so, let’s try to grab all the stuff from the front and maybe a few things from the back?” You suggest, then move to unlock the trunk of your car where the boys stand. 

“Jesus. How did you pack all this shit in here?” Eddie asks, marvelling at the trunk of your car which is stuffed full of most of your belongings. 

“Are we about to find your kitchen sink packed away in here, or what?” Steve adds. 

“Uh, I don’t know, really,” You say, answering Eddie’s question. “I packed it all up so quickly I didn’t really notice how much stuff it actually was, but it’s like my entire apartment is stuffed into this trunk.” You say, and it kind of is. You’re surprised your trunk could even shut with how crowded it is. 

Robin and Nancy grab the remaining bags from the back seat, while you and the guys grab a couple boxes from the trunk. Then you lock up and start back to your new apartment. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Your first thought when you gain consciousness in your bed is a thought that no one would ever want to have—especially not before eight in the morning. Someone has broken into my apartment. 

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling–your new ceiling! In your new apartment! That you’ve lived in now for a solid 48 hours. But your time here may be cut short if the intruder has plans that involve you and a knife.

You know for a fact that it is not Robin because you share a wall with her and can hear her shuffling around her room getting ready for the day, and the person out in your living room right now definitely opened your front door and is now shuffling around out there.

Thud. 

What the fuck was that?

Most people in your situation might freeze in fear and simply lie in wait for the intruder to come to them, accepting their fate. Others might run and hide. But you, on this random Tuesday in November at 7:43AM were apparently a force to be reckoned with. The Old You might have chosen one of the two above options, but New York You–the new, and hopefully improved, you–has a job interview today and are not going to let some intruder stop you from making it. 

You are not about to have your fresh start end so soon. So, you carefully pull the covers off of your body and as quietly as possible get out of bed.

Inching slowly towards the door, you decide you first need a weapon to defend yourself. There’s no use going out there and meeting the intruder if you can’t protect yourself against them. However, since you’re not in the kitchen, you don’t have access to a knife or any other kitchen utensil that could be wielded as a weapon. And since many of your belongings are still packed away in bags and boxes scattered around the room, you don’t exactly have many options. 

Quickly, you grab the first object you see that could potentially be used to incapacitate the intruder. Then, you very slowly reach for the handle of your door. 

Twisting the handle as gently as you can manage so as not to draw attention to yourself, you begin to open the door, revealing an inch of the kitchen, then another couple inches which reveals a sliver of the living room. Heart racing wildly in your chest, you decide it’s now or never. 

Bursting from your room while brandishing your weapon of choice, you let out what some may describe as a battle cry, startling the intruder in the living room. Startling them so much that they bang their head on the coffee table when they try to get up from where they’re laying on their stomach on the floor between the couch and table. 

You don’t have a great view of the intruder from where you stand right outside your door, so you slowly step toward them where they lie. 

The intruder groans in pain, forehead falling to rest on the rug below them as they bring a hand to the back of their head. A head with long, messy curls that you vaguely recognize. 

Oh. Oh, God. 

“Eddie?” You question meekly, lowering your weapon as waves of guilt crash over you. 

“Uh-huh,” He replies weakly, voice muffled by the rug he’s practically eating. 

“Oh, God,” You moan before placing your weapon on the table and rushing to his side. He lifts his head then, and you help him up onto the couch. He groans again as he sits back into the plush cushions and all you can do is apologize. 

Taking a seat on the coffee table, you grimace at his grimace. “I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder,” You explain, squeezing your fingers in your hand. Your heart still races in your chest. 

“It’s-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Kinda did it to myself,” Eddie jokes, still rubbing the back of his head. You nod once, biting your lip, still feeling guilty because, yeah, he technically did do it himself, but he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stormed out of your room like a crazy person and screamed bloody murder.

As your heart slows to its normal pace, you begin to wonder what he was doing here in the first place—laying on the living room rug for that matter.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but what exactly were you doing on the floor?” You ask, finally taking in his dress now that the situation has deescalated some. He wears red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top so see-through that you catch a glimpse of dark ink beneath the material. The sight steals your breath for a moment. 

“I was, uh, looking for my rings. Thought they might have fallen under the table,” Eddie supplies, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His eyes are warm and soft. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so large and round. He looks like a baby deer or something. A cute, injured baby deer. 

“Oh. Did Robin let you in?” You ask, because it doesn’t matter that he looks like a baby deer, what matters is that it is very possible that he simply let himself into your apartment and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that just yet. I mean, you’ve only just met him and the others two days ago, and have only seen them one other time since then when they had come by to help clear out your new room. 

Eddie looks like the guilty one now as he replies, “Uh, no…?”

“Sorry,” He apologizes quickly. “Let me just…try this again.” 

You’re not sure exactly what he means until he stands and begins walking backwards in the direction of the front door, all the while making strange noises with his mouth that somewhat resemble the sound of rewinding a tape. He’s literally starting over, resetting, going back in time to try this again because he saw you weren’t comfortable with his uninvited presence in your apartment.

All you can do is sit and simply stare at the strange, yet comical display as Eddie awkwardly reaches behind him, opens the door, reverses out into the hallway, and shuts the door with a slam. 

Too stunned to laugh for a moment, you sit in silence for approximately five seconds, thinking that might be the end of it, before a knock sounds at the front door. 

You hesitate, staring at the door strangely. But you’re intrigued now by his strange display, wanting to know how it ends. So you stand and stroll over to the door, opening it to, of course, reveal Eddie, who smiles brightly at you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely. “You mind if I come in?” 

Stifling a giggle, you nod. “Of course.” And open the door wider, stepping to the side to allow him space to enter. He enters swiftly and you shut the door.

Eddie saunters over to the living room once again, about to resume the search for his rings when he spots your weapon of choice sitting innocently on the coffee table where you left it. He pauses and stares at it for a moment, tilting his head, and you stare at his back as you remain in the kitchen, watching as his dark curls shift and fall to one side, cascading over his shoulders. 

The presence of the weapon is new to him since it obviously was not there when he entered the apartment the first time. He also hadn’t seen it even when he’d gotten up from the floor because you’d sat on the coffee table, and therefore blocked his view of the object. 

Now, Eddie wanders over to the coffee table, gingerly picking the weapon up like it’s some sort of precious antique, then spins around smoothly to face you. Holding it loosely at one end, he lets it dangle just above the hardwood floor.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. You stare back at him, unsure of what’s happening. 

“What?” You wonder. 

“What were you gonna use this for?” Eddie asks, tone humorous, and dark eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“To-to defend myself against the intruder,” You answer, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious about your choice of weapon. 

“With a bathrobe tie?” Eddie exclaims, shaking the flimsy terry cloth material around so the long fabric wiggles in the air.  

“Y-yes!” You defend weakly.

“What were you gonna do? Spa-day me to death?” 

“No! I-I thought it could be used to, like—choke someone?” You say, cringing as the words come out of your mouth. 

Eddie barks a laugh. But you can tell he's not laughing at you. He simply finds the situation and your choice amusing. In the little time you’ve spent around Eddie, you don’t get the impression that he’s mean-spirited or judgmental. The exact opposite actually–to you, he’s only been accepting and kind. 

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that. But not very practical,” Eddie critiques.

“My robe was hanging on my door, okay? It’s not like I had a knife in there or something,” You attempt to defend, playing along. 

“Still!” He laughs incredulously. 

“Let me get this straight: first, you break into my apartment, and then I very kindly invite you back in, and you insult my choice of weapon?” 

Eddie seems to mull this over, recalling the events in his mind to confirm that, yes, that is indeed what has happened.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so…Ya know, you should really talk to Harrington. He’s the king of wielding random objects as weapons. When we first moved here, he thought we were getting broken into all the time, and this one time he grabbed our floor lamp and-” 

Before he can finish his story though, Robin comes out from her bedroom, dressed in some jeans and a striped long-sleeve. She makes it a few steps before she notices Eddie and you standing almost ten feet apart in the living room together, both of you still dressed in your pyjamas, and one of you grasping a purple bathrobe tie. Robin stares for a moment like she’s suspicious of something, shifting her eyes from you to Eddie and back again. They land on Eddie when she slowly asks, “What’s going on?” 

“I was looking for my rings. You seen ‘em?” He explains, effectively diverting her attention from the strangeness of the situation. 

“Yeah,” She nods, walking towards the kitchen again. “In the dish by the door.” 

“Cool. Thanks,” Eddie says, walking towards you now. Before he walks past you to retrieve his rings though, he takes hold of the other end of the bathrobe tie, pulling it taught, and presenting it to you with a slight bow. “Your sword, m’lady.” 

Grabbing the tie from him, you thank him, and he continues toward the dish by the door. Eddie’s theatrical and kind of strange, but instead of weirding you out, you find that those traits endear you to him. You’re sick of boring people and to finally be around someone who is so unapologetically themselves is refreshing. Especially someone as interesting as Eddie. 

Turning around to the kitchen where Eddie is carefully rooting through the dish for his rings and Robin is grabbing a juice from the fridge, you realize something strange about what just happened. Though surprisingly, none of it has to do with Eddie. 

“Um-if you were in your room getting ready, how did you not hear my scream?” You ask, because you doubt that she just didn’t hear it. You were pretty loud. 

After taking a sip from the small plastic bottle, Robin explains, “Huh. I guess I’ve learned to sort of tune out the noise. Living across the hall from two idiots who barge into my apartment without warning has kind of become my new normal. Loud, sudden noises aren’t really surprising anymore.”

“It’s worrying how desensitized you are,” You reply, mostly joking. 

Robin takes another sip of her juice and shrugs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.” 

“Ya know, I really hope I don’t.” 

Robins snorts, approaching the counter where Eddie is still picking his rings from the mess of keys and other small trinkets in the dish, and crouches down to retrieve her tote bag from the shelf below the counter. You ball up and toss your robe tie in the general direction of your room before Robin pops back up and turns to grab her juice from the table behind her. 

“Okay, so I gotta go run some errands, but I should be back just after your interview,” She informs and you nod. Eddie goes to leave as well, opening the front door as Robin tells you, “Good luck, you’ll be great!” Then heads for the door as well. 

Gratitude swells in your chest. Robin has been more than kind to you these past two days. Before Saturday, it had been years since you last spoke.

You and Robin were best friends at the summer camp you attended as children and remained close as you entered your teen years and later became camp counsellors at the same camp. You were the first person she ever came out to and it often felt like you shared a brain; for many years she was your sister. 

Despite your living hours and hours away, you and Robin maintained your friendship during the non-summer months; talking on the phone often and mailing letters back and forth. 

Eventually, though, your individual lives got busy and neither of you had the time to maintain the long-distance friendship or attend summer camp as counsellors anymore. Phone calls decreased and letters stopped being written and mailed, until eventually, your friendship fizzled out. There was no major falling out of any sort; the end of your friendship was simply the result of poor management on both ends. 

You often thought about calling her up to see how she was, but it wasn’t until last week that you made the impulsive decision to contact her again. And you’re glad you did. She’s given you a new home and she even helped you set up your job interview at Hannigan’s. You’re grateful that she’s given you the opportunity to start fresh in this new city with new, interesting people, but much of your gratitude comes from the chance you now both have to breathe life back into your cherished friendship.

“Hey,” You call, causing Robin to pause and turn to you before she exits the apartment, brows expectantly raised. “I know I’ve already said it so many times, but I just want to say thank you one more time for everything you’ve done for me these past two days. And I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been friends…but you’re a really good friend.” 

Robin smiles softly at you. “You’re a really good friend too. You always have been.” 

It’s then you rush to her at the door where you embrace her in the biggest hug and hope the action translates the magnitude of your thankfulness and love for her. 

“I’ll see you later,” She says after you part, walking out into the hallway. 

You sigh.

It has been one hectic morning, and your interview starts at 10:30, so you should probably start getting ready now. But Eddie lingers in the hallway, just outside his front door. 

Before you can even say anything, he preemptively apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, eavesdrop, but you have your interview at Hannigan’s today?” 

You’re not mad though. Nothing you said was a secret. And so far, you trust Eddie. He cares about the way people around him are feeling and takes action to remedy situations where people aren’t happy or comfortable. That much is clear from this morning. It’s why you don’t dismiss him and leave to get ready. He’s a good person. 

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Eddie takes a couple steps forward so he’s standing just inside your apartment once again. 

“Would it help if I gave you some tips? I’ve been working there for a while and I kinda know what they’re looking for, so-”

“That would be great!” You exclaim, because you really need this job if you want to continue living here. 

Eddie just smiles brightly at your reaction as you say, “Just let me get dressed and then I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, grabbing the edge of the door on his way out to close it. 

“Oh! And Eddie?” You call out just before the door shuts. 

“Yeah?” He responds, popping his head back in the apartment. 

“I really am so sorry about this morning.” 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for breaking in…Although you seemed pretty unprepared, so, yaknow, this was probably a good learning experience for you,” He teases, that same sparkle in his eyes that had appeared when he was questioning your weapon returning. 

You bite your lip over a smile as Eddie winks at you and disappears behind the door, the heavy wood slamming softly shut. 

Getting ready in record time, you end up knocking on Eddie’s door across the hall approximately one hour later, leaving more than enough time for Eddie to give you interview tips and for you to walk over to Hannigan’s to arrive early. 

As you stand in the hall awaiting his answer, you feel oddly giddy, a swarm of nervous butterflies fluttering rapidly in your belly. Briefly, you think your butterflies can be explained on account of Eddie making you nervous. But you bat that thought away as you hear footsteps approaching and remind yourself that it’s more likely that your upcoming job interview has caused the butterflies. 

When Eddie answers his door, you find he’s also gotten dressed in the hour since you’ve seen each other. He wears a simple black t-shirt with a band name and logo you don’t recognize on the front with a long-sleeve underneath, and some light-wash jeans. His hair is noticeably more tame, his curls flowing neatly over his shoulders. Eddie also wears the silver rings he was searching for this morning; three on one hand, and one on the other. The fluttering in your belly intensifies for a moment, but again, you bat them away. 

“You wanna come in or are we gonna do this out in the hall?” Eddie jokes when you make no move to enter his apartment, unaware of this strange battle you’re having within yourself at his doorstep. 

Shaking yourself free of your thoughts, you mutter a quick apology and take his joke as an invitation to enter. As you do, you realize this is the first time you’ve been inside his apartment. Which isn’t a surprising fact. You’ve only been here for two full days, and haven’t really left your apartment much since then.

His apartment is smaller and you might describe it as drab, but their decor choices are vibrant in their own way. 

The kitchen is immediately to your right as you enter, a table to your left, and as you wander further into the room, a counter separates the entrance slash kitchen area from the living room. In the living room sits two black recliners and a large wood entertainment centre with a television set. On either side of this are two closed doors. 

The far right side of the apartment has two windows and a red sofa sitting beneath it. Beside that is another door, this one open (revealing tiled floor and a closed shower curtain). 

There isn’t much in the way of wall decoration (aside from a lone dart board hanging on the wall and a few posters), but on some of the shelves of the entertainment centre are framed photographs. Some of the photos feature what appears to be two younger versions of Steve and Eddie, presumably taken in high school. In one photo, Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they both hold beer cans in their hands. Eddie smiles cheekily for the camera, while Steve puts on a faux grimace at his friends close proximity. 

Other photos feature boys who appear to be much younger than Steve and Eddie (possibly siblings?) and there are also photos that include Robin and Nancy, some recent and others clearly taken years ago. Another includes Steve and Eddie carrying a boy with curly hair–who wears a graduation cap and gown–on their shoulders, all of them smiling widely. You can tell it's candid as they all appear to be laughing and unaware of the camera photographing them. 

“Who’s this?” You ask curiously, pointing at the photo as you turn around, finding that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot at the door and has likely been watching you inspect his living area this whole time. Suddenly you feel like you’re intruding. “Sorry, I-”

“No worries. You can look. That’s what they’re there for,” He shrugs, finally joining you in the living room. 

At your side now, Eddie inspects the photo you pointed to and a fond smile crosses his face. His side profile is soft, and you spy just a hint of shaven stubble on his cheeks. It distracts you for a moment. 

“Dustin,” Eddie says after a beat. 

“What?” You ask dumbly, now preoccupied with the freckles you’ve spotted that dot his pale skin lightly. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. All you’d have to do to get right into his personal space is take one short step forward. But of course you won’t do that. Why would you? 

Eddie looks from the photograph to you. “In the picture,” He explains, nodding to the framed image. “That’s Dustin. It was taken at his high school graduation, like, two years ago? He’s a good kid…Well, he’s not really a kid anymore, but I guess it still feels like that sometimes.” 

“How do you know him?” You hear yourself say. The kid looks like he’s about five years younger than Eddie and Steve, so naturally you’re curious about how they know him. 

You’re supposed to be here getting pointers for your job interview, but instead, you find that you’re more interested in the details of Eddie’s life. 

“Uh, we were in high school together and I had this club that he was a part of,” Eddie explains, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“What kind of club?” You wonder, electing to ignore the fact that he somehow attended high school with this kid. 

He seems reluctant to provide you with an answer to your question. Up until now, he’s been a pretty open book; someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. But now all of the sudden, he’s guarded? 

“I won’t judge, yaknow,” You reassure, because you won’t, but also because his reluctance to reveal what sort of club he ran makes you all the more curious to find out. 

Eddie side eyes you, squinting. He must determine that your remark is genuine because he straightens up from where he’d bent slightly to view the photo and provides you with an answer. 

“Ever heard of DnD? Dungeons and Dragons?” 

You furrow your brows for a moment, vaguely recognizing the name, but not remembering why. 

“Oh!” You exclaim after a beat. “Yes! Was that the one that people were freaking out about years ago cause they thought it caused Satanism?”

Eddie snaps his fingers as he responds, “That’s the one.” 

Then, he glances back at the photograph, and you think you can almost make out memories behind his eyes. Fond ones. You lean forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes again.

“You still play?” 

Your question shakes him out of his momentary reverie, and he looks to you once again. “Not as much as I used to…But Dustin and the other guys and I try to organize a couple meetings throughout the year. It’s hard though because everyone’s kinda spread out now. And busy.”

His tone is wistful as he continues to glance around at the photos sitting on the shelf. Had you just upset him? First, you assist him in banging his head against your coffee table and now you’re potentially causing him some emotional pain too! Good going. 

You’re about to apologize or change the subject, but Eddie speaks before you can. “Anyway! We should probably talk about your interview now. How long do we have?”

Looking around the room to find a clock, you spot one by the door. The little hand points toward the nine and the large hand points toward the six. 

“About a half hour before I should get going,” You respond, turning back to Eddie as he takes a seat on one of the recliners behind you. You sit down as well. 

“Great. So…do you have any questions first?” Eddie asks, unsure where to start. 

“Uh,” You say, trying to remember any questions you had, but you can’t seem to recall any as you roll up the sleeves of your thick sweater, the ink on your wrist and forearms revealed as the fabric is pulled back. 

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes shoot down to the action and for the first time, he catches sight of the ink.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” He remarks, like it’s something he should have known. As if it’s been more than 48 hours since you met and it’s ridiculous that he didn’t know. 

“Oh. Yeah,” You say absentmindedly, glancing down at your arms. 

“Tip number one: your tattoos are sick, but at Hannigan’s, they aren’t exactly appreciated, so you should make sure you cover them up.”

“Gotcha,” You say, rolling your sleeves back down the length of your arms.

Suddenly you’re reminded of your first day when you spotted his inked arms. The seven bats decorating his forearm. “Um…Yours are really cool by the way,” You compliment. 

Then, “When did you get your first one?” You ask, veering further off topic. You can’t seem to stop yourself and you don’t know why. 

“Uh…heh,” Eddie huffs a short laugh, almost as if he’d forgotten until this very second when you’d asked him. “I think I was, like, 16, 17? I did a really shitty stick-and-poke on my leg–the initials of my band name: Corroded Coffin.”

Every new thing you learn about Eddie intrigues you. Of course this long-haired, tattoo-having, ring-wearing, Dungeons and Dragons-playing 20-something would also have been in a band. Your surprise is likely evident on your face.

“You’ll have to come to one of our gigs sometime,” Eddie invites casually, as if it’s not the most cool thing to say in the world. Eddie didn’t used to be in a band, Eddie is in a band! 

“You’re still in the band?” 

“Yeah, the other guys live out here too, and we do regular gigs a few times a week…but, um, what about you? When did you get your first tattoo?” 

Still gaping at him, you must pick your jaw up off the ground before you can respond. Cool and humble. How is he real?

“Oh, um, I was 18…I actually got it cause I knew my mom would hate it and it would probably piss her off,” You say, a little embarrassed by that fact. You don’t know why you reveal the information to him in the first place. Maybe because for some odd reason you know he won’t tell anyone. Even still—his story was way cooler. Especially since it preceded the reveal that he’s in a band. But maybe that’s also part of the reason you share it. You want him to think you’re just as interesting as he is—though you’re not sure who would be impressed by the information you just shared. 

“Did it work?” Eddie asks. To your surprise, he seems invested in your answer, leaning over the edge of the recliner's armrest. As if what you’ve said was equally as interesting as his response. 

“Did what work?” 

“Was she pissed?” 

“Oh!” You say, like a total ditz. “Um, yeah. Big time. She hates tattoos.” 

“Is that why you have all of them?”

“No, I only got the first one to make her mad. And then when I realized I really loved it, I just kept getting them,” You respond, pushing your sleeve back slightly to brush the one on your wrist with your thumb. 

When you look back up at him he’s smiling softly at you, but he quickly averts his gaze and his eyes find the clock on the wall. “Shit,” He says, a little panicked. “We only have 20 minutes.”

Whipping your head around to glance at the clock, the hands confirm that it’s 20 to 10 and you’ve barely discussed what you came here to discuss. 

“I guess we’ll just have to lightning round this shit,” Eddie says, determination set in his tone. 

And you do lightning round this shit. In just over 20 minutes, Eddie tells you as much as he can about the owner of the restaurant—Cordelia—who is going to be interviewing you. He tells you how to sit, what to say, how to say it, anything and everything he can think of to help you secure a job at this place. 

As you two stand and Eddie walks you to the door, he shoots you a few final pointers.

 “Obviously it helps that you have experience working at an upscale restaurant, so, um, she’ll probably ask you about that too,” Eddie says, and you nod.

When you reach the door, you turn to him. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say sincerely. “You really didn’t have to do this, so it means a lot that you did.” 

“Of course I did,” Eddie replies, like it's just that simple. Your brows furrow. “You’re a member of this party now, and as a fellow party member, it’s my duty to help other party members out when they’re in need.”

“A ‘party member’?” 

You’re sure you catch the faintest blush across his cheeks from your question.

“Sorry, uh, I guess it just means you’re one of us now…A friend,” Eddie explains. 

“A friend,” You repeat. And you find the word involuntarily pulls your lips into a soft smile. 

“Anyway, you should probably get going,” Eddie reminds with another glance at the clock. 

“Yeah, okay,” You agree, turning to open the door.  “Oh, um, where did you say the restaurant was again?” You ask when you’re out in the hallway. 

“It’s um…You know what? Why don’t I just walk you there?” Eddie offers. 

“Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Eddie says with a charming smile. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Cordelia was an intense woman. Eddie had warned you of this, though you had wildly underestimated the level of intensity the woman embodied. She was tall, and wore her long, black hair up in a sleek ponytail, not a flyaway in sight. Her office was large and so neat that you thought it looked like some sort of staged set for a decor magazine. 

During your interview, you learned exactly one thing about Cordelia: Cordelia does not fuck around. She did not have time for exchanging pleasantries, and a simple handshake and a “take a seat” was the only introduction she provided you with before she began the interview, which mostly felt more like a police interrogation than a job interview. 

By the end, you thought you felt good about how it went, but Cordelia was hard to read. You never once saw her smile or provide you with any kind of verbal or non-verbal communication that would indicate that she was impressed with your resume or any of your answers to her questions.

It was likely one of the most strange job interviews you had ever had. It didn’t necessarily leave you full of hope as you got up from the leather upholstered chair and Cordelia informed you that you would receive a call if she decided to hire you. 

Walking through the restaurant–which was void of patrons, but had some staff preparing and setting up for opening in a few hours–, you finally come to the large glass entrance doors, and push one open. The late November chill blasts you in the face immediately and the switch from the warmth of the restaurant to this shiver-worthy weather is jarring. Had it somehow dropped five degrees from when you’d walked here? 

Turning right and beginning your trek back home, you hear a voice call out your name from behind you. 

You ignore it at first, thinking that the person can’t be calling out to you since you know a grand total of four people so far (five if you count Cordelia—but you don’t) and surely there are other people in this massively diverse city that also have your name. 

“Hey!” The voice calls again once you’ve made it no more than fifteen feet from the restaurant. 

Finally, you stop walking and spin around to locate the source, and what you find surprises you.

Eddie is currently jogging toward you. 

He’d waited this whole time? Out in the freezing cold? With that effortlessly cool leather jacket that is an extremely pathetic excuse for a winter coat and is definitely doing nothing to keep the warmth in?

“Hey,” He says again once he reaches you. 

“Hey,” You say. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Eddie.” Because he really didn’t and you don’t want to be a burden or make him think you’re taking advantage of his kindness. 

“Seeing as you’re going in the wrong direction, it’s probably a good thing I did,” Eddie tells you, nodding back in the other direction with a gentle, c’mon. You feel your face warm even as the wind whips you. 

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly, walking in step with Eddie—in the correct direction now.

“So, how’d it go? Did you crush it?” He asks hopefully, head turned to look at you, and his shoulders pushed up by his red-tipped ears as though he’s trying to conserve heat. 

The furrow in your brow and your soft stuttering must be enough for Eddie to understand exactly how it went, as he speaks before you can provide him with your best approximation of how the interview might have gone. 

“Yeah, that’s normal with Cordelia. That woman is impossible to read,” He says, shaking his head as you both stop at a crosswalk. 

“Right? Oh my God. I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” You say, relieved because that means that the interview wasn’t a total disaster. Is that what that means?

“Yeah, we call her Medusa,” Eddie remarks with a sidelong glance at you. 

You snort unattractively at the nickname and just as quickly bring your hand to your face, covering your mouth as if the action could force the sound back in. 

“Fitting,” You say, coughing as a cover for the noise when Eddie looks at you, brows raised, supposedly amused by your amusement. 

Eddie smirks to himself, barely noticeable, before asking, “Did she say she’d call?” As you look both ways before crossing the street with many other bundled-up New Yorkers. 

“Uh, yeah, why?” 

“That’s a good sign,” He answers, his shoulders shaking with a sudden shiver. That simple statement allows just a little drop of hope to blossom in your chest. 

“Are you cold?” You ask because he can’t not be freezing. He’s not exactly convincing you otherwise. 

“Yeah. I can’t feel my fingers,” Eddie states plainly.

“Wanna jog the rest of the way?” You offer, mostly joking. 

“Please,” He replies anyway.

Though you don’t exactly jog the last few blocks home, you do pick up the pace, and when you get back you make him some tea to warm him up (and hopefully bring back feeling in his fingers). 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Since your interview every time the phone rings you basically leap over any obstacles in your way to get to the phone, hoping it will be Cordelia calling about your waitressing position as Hannigan’s. But each time the phone rings and it’s a telemarketer, or the bank, or anyone other than Medusa herself, you lose just a little more of that small inkling of hope you allowed yourself to have. 

At present, you sit on the couch in the living room beside Robin while you eat noodles; the rest of the Chinese spread sitting on the coffee table in front of you or in the laps of Steve, Eddie, and Robin. 

On the plush chair to your left sits Steve who is currently chowing down on some dumplings while staring with rapt attention at the television, and Eddie–who announced his newfound aversion to normative seating options upon his arrival in your home–sits on the floor by your socked feet. 

Though the TV is on, you aren’t really paying attention. It’s been just over a week now since you moved in and one week to the day since your interview, and by now you’ve lost all hope. 

Privately, you decided that you would call time of death on this potential job by the end of today and start searching for a new one tomorrow. You know there’s plenty of other jobs out there, but the prospect of working with Robin and Eddie had excited you and made you a whole lot less anxious about working in this new city.  

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

Hope surges inside of you despite your intentions of abandoning it. Suddenly, you feel three sets of eyes on you. Even Steve—who had been incredibly invested in the lifeguards running in slow motion on the television screen—looks at you now. 

They all knew you’d been waiting for the call. They also knew that you hadn’t received one. Not the one, at least. You wish you had time to get up and answer the phone that sits on the side table in your bedroom because you’d really rather not admit to them that it’s simply another telemarketer. 

Since you don’t have the time to reach the phone in your bedroom though, you pull in a deep breath, reach over the sofa arm, and pick up the landline that sits on the glass end table. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, this is Cordelia Hannigan from Hannigan’s-”

And after that you think you black out. Because you don’t hear anything after that. Because this is the happiest you’ve ever been about getting a call about a job. Which sounds ridiculous since it’s just a waitressing job. But it represents so much more. It’s the seal that cements your place in this city with these people. It represents your new beginning. 

With that realization you decide that you should probably listen to your new beginning. Trying your best to tune into Cordelia’s words, you hear her throwing words and phrases around like strict dress code and uniform and training and first shift. When she’s done, you tell her thank you, and return the phone to the base, hanging it up with a resolute click. 

Three sets of eyes remain on you and your frozen body. When you don’t say anything after one second of hanging up, they get restless. 

“So?” Steve prompts, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation. 

“Was it Medusa?” Robin asks from your side. 

You nod slowly, not believing it yourself. “Uh-huh…I got the job.” 

“You got the job!” They all shout in freaky unison. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You think you hear Steve mutter déjà-vu to himself as Robin and Eddie continue their cheering and congratulating. 

“I-I start training this week and my first shift next week,” You inform. 

And then Eddie’s shouting, “Speech, speech, speech!” with his hands cupped over his mouth as if you’re much further away from him. 

“Alright, alright!” You acquiesce as the others join his chant, putting your noodles down on the coffee table and getting up to stand in front of the television.

“Um, I guess I just want to thank all of you,” You begin, feeling suddenly sincere, but still maintaining a note of jest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Steve, you helped me transport and unpack most of my shit. And I have a lot of shit.”

He nods in agreement. “And I couldn’t have focused on prepping for the interview if I was worried about my stuff sitting in my car in that garage, so thank you…Robin, you helped me set up the interview with Cordelia-”

“Medusa,” Robin and Eddie correct simultaneously. 

“Medusa,” You correct yourself. “And you also recommended me for the position. So, thank you…And last, but certainly not least, Eddie,” You say, smiling softly when you catch his eye. He smiles right back at you, that charming dimple appearing on his face as he does. 

“Without your pointers I probably would not have made it through the interview without being turned to stone.”–Eddie snorts–“And I also probably would have gotten completely lost and wandered into the East River if you hadn’t been there when I left. So, thank you…” You tell him sincerely, the partially joking tone you had maintained throughout your cheesy speech erased completely now since your gaze had fallen on him. 

“Good night, New York!” You finish, trying to play up the cheesiness now to divert from the seriousness that had snuck into your tone, and you bow dramatically as Robin and Eddie clap and woop. But Steve, you notice, is glancing oddly as Eddie.

You laugh as you take your seat, plucking your cardboard box of noodles off the table as you go. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“Robin!” You hear Steve call from out in the living room, his voice muffled slightly through your closed bedroom door. “The door!” 

Robin’s door creaks open before you hear her exit her bedroom. 

“You couldn’t have gotten it?” She complains as she walks through the apartment to answer the door. 

“No. Baywatch is on,” Steve replies like his answer needs no further explanation. You snicker to yourself as you button up your pressed, white uniform shirt. You swear you can hear Robin’s eyes rolling. 

Baywatch was Steve’s favourite TV show; he never missed an episode—except for last week when a meeting at his school ran longer than expected and he’d called Robin to get her to tape it for him. He decided that now–while you were both getting ready to leave for work–was the perfect time to come over and watch it (instead of taking the tape back to his place since your TV is better anyway). 

The apartment's front door–which remains perpetually unlocked when you and Robin are home–opens and you listen closely to hear who it might be while you work on tucking your shirt into your formal black dress pants. 

“Oh. Hey, Eddie,” You hear Robin greet, though it sounds more like a question with the confusion lacing her tone. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his footsteps tapping against the faux hardwood as Robin shuts the door with a loud slam. 

With a quick glance over at your alarm clock, you find that it’s almost time to leave. The realization sends nervous butterflies to flight in your belly. Tonight is your very first shift at Hannigan’s. 

Last week you had your training, which was nerve-wracking, but tonight was the real thing. Tonight you would be earning your first dollar, receiving your first tip, suggesting wine pairings, and probably dealing with rude customers. And all of it makes you nervous. 

It’s scary for so many reasons, for more reasons than just the fact that new jobs (no matter what they are) are always scary. It’s scary because it’s the next step in the process of making a new–hopefully better–life for yourself here. For that reason, you want it to go well. But you aren’t sure what ‘well’ really means in this situation. 

“Y/N!” Robin calls, shaking you from your thoughts. “Cab’s here!” 

Blowing out a quick breath, and trying your best to shake out your nerves, you grab your jacket and bag and exit your bedroom, still feeling those butterflies, but determined not to let them shake you. At least not too much. 

Leaning against the now open apartment door is Eddie who’s dressed in the same black dress pants and white button-up as you and Robin. He shoots you an easy smile as you emerge from your room, and you smile back. 

His long hair, which he usually lets flow over his shoulders in soft waves, is now tied in a low bun. He’s missing his usual chunky silver rings and all his tattoos are hidden beneath his sleeves and a highly buttoned collar. 

Though it’s strange to see him stripped of his unique accessories, you find yourself scrolling your eyes over his body. With his hair away from his face, his features are highlighted, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making his eyes appear somehow larger. 

As your eyes move down his body, you note the way his arms look in the button up, how his thighs fill out the dress pants. You find yourself missing his rings though. Something twists in your belly, though this time it’s not nerves. 

“Ready?” Robin’s voice asks, once again shaking you from your thoughts. She must notice that you weren’t entirely there, that you were lost in your thoughts because she stops shoving things into her bag to ask: “You okay?” 

Ripping your gaze away from Eddie and turning to Robin, you reply, “Yeah!” in a voice much higher than your own. You cough quickly as a cover and repeat your words, sounding much less caught out the second time. 

“Okay,” Robin drawls suspiciously. “Well, we should really get down to the cab now cause we probably have about 60 seconds before they decide to leave and force us to brave the windchill ourselves,” She informs, pulling her jacket on and shoving her tote bag over her shoulder. “Alright, you’ll lock up and we’ll see you at the coffee house afterwards?” Robin asks Steve. 

“Yeah, sure,” He replies absentmindedly from where he’s glued to the sofa. 

“Shit, I should probably get my keys then,” You mutter. If they’re going to the coffee house after your shift, then you can’t rely on Robin unlocking the door for you if you’re not together when you get home. 

Before you can walk back to your room to retrieve your keys though, Steve pipes up. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the television since he got here. 

“Wait, you’re not coming?” He asks, his body twisted to look at you with his arm draped over the back of the couch. 

“Oh,” You reply dumbly because ‘we’ apparently included you. You were a part of the ‘we’ Robin meant. ‘We’, as in Robin, Eddie, Steve, and you.

It’s not like they haven’t been welcoming since you got here, but it’s only been a few weeks and they’ve been friends and neighbours for years; you thought it might take them longer to accept you into the group since they’re so solid. A part of you felt like they might still see you as an outsider; someone who doesn’t get invited to their after-work coffee shop hangouts just yet. But they’d expected you to come. Sometime within the last couple weeks you became a part of their definition of ‘we’.

“No, I’ll come,” You confirm with a nod in an attempt to appear casual about the invite. 

“Awesome,” Steve says, turning back to the television. 

“Guys!” Robin shouts and you realize then that she’s no longer in the apartment. Eddie pokes his head out into the hall as Robin says, “Come on, the cab is waiting!” 

“Yep, coming,” Eddie says and you follow right behind him, feeling so many things all at once. Nervous about your shift, excited about being invited to the coffee house, and another thing for Eddie that you can’t quite name just yet. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

The fast-paced environment of Hannigan’s is overwhelming, and while normally it might frazzle you, you find that you don’t mind it nearly as much as you thought you might. It’s definitely a different environment than your last job–a desk job that only promoted boredom within you–, but the new challenge of this place is stimulating.

As the night goes on, the din of the restaurant only intensifies; nearly every table and booth is filled with patrons talking and enjoying their 5-star meals, the sounds of cutlery clashing against fine china, hosts and hostesses greeting people at the entrance and making reservations for customers over the phone for months from now, the sizzling, clinking sounds roaring from the kitchen when the swinging traffic doors open, then shushing when the doors close again. 

With just over an hour left of your shift and the clearing of what feels like the thousandth table you’ve waited on tonight, you watch as yet another diner is seated in your section. He’s a tall man, his dark hair styled precisely atop his head, and has a short goatee beard, trimmed to perfection. It reminds you of Kurt Cobain’s facial hair, though nothing else about him resembles the rock icon. The man looks rich–though you suppose most people who dine here are. From what you can tell with the distance between you, he might be about ten years your senior.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you begin to stride over to his table, though you are just as soon intercepted, a large hand gently engulfing your wrist. You turn and find that the hand is attached to Eddie, his deep brown eyes staring back at you, and suddenly the contact brings heat to your face and a zip of something unnamable down your arm. Both of you retract your hands swiftly before Eddie explains his interception: “Why don’t you let me take this table, yeah?”

Confusion muddles your features for a moment. Why on earth would Eddie want to take on another table? It’s busy enough in here as it is. Plus, taking a table that is not in your section is strictly against the rules and as it’s your very first shift here, you’re not quite comfortable enough just yet to bend any rules. Especially not when they were fiercely outlined to you by Cordelia, who you were sure that if she possessed the powers of Medusa like Eddie and Robin say, she would surely turn you to stone if she caught you breaking any of them. 

Since you’re not willing to risk getting yourself or Eddie into any sort of trouble, you tell him: “You have your own section to worry about, Eddie. Don’t worry about mine, I got this.” With an easy smile in hopes of further reassuring him, though you’re not sure of what. 

You barely make it a few steps in the direction of your table before he’s stopping you again, this time with a gentle hand at your elbow. 

“It’s just that…I’ve had that guy in my section before and he’s…difficult,” Eddie explains, struggling to come up with a word to describe him and seemingly being displeased with the one he chose as his brows furrowed together. 

Oh. 

His explanation causes heat to rise to your face, warming your entire chest with a strange fuzzy feeling. Was Eddie trying to protect you? If he was, that was very sweet of him, but still, you can’t allow him to take this table for you–even though you feel like you could melt to mush in his grasp right now. 

“I’ve dealt with difficult people all evening,” You say. “I’ve got this.” 

Before he can protest anymore or continue to convince you not to take the table, you’re walking away from him, your soft skin slipping from his gentle grip. 

Eddie watches you walk away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as you greet Paul and hand him the menu. The second Eddie sees that trademark salacious smirk creep across Paul’s face, Eddie’s jaw clenches involuntarily, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

Had he had any right to try to do anything about it before? To try to take your table? He hasn’t known you very long, so who is he to step in and attempt to protect you from that creep? He shouldn’t even feel this protective of you, this jealous. What the fuck is going on with him lately? 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Collapsing onto the big fluffy couch at The Ugly Mug, you feel yourself instantly sink into the soft cushions. Have they always felt like literal clouds molding perfectly to your body or does it just seem that way after being on your feet for hours? 

Now that your first shift is over you can appreciate how truly tiring it was. Adrenaline must have helped you stay on your feet all night, helped you acclimate to the job, but now that you’re seated in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop, all that energy has left you entirely. 

“Ugh, is it always this exhausting?” You sigh, slumped between Robin and Eddie. Steve sits on a plush chair next to the couch. 

“I-” Robin begins, but Eddie interrupts before she can finish. 

“Don’t lie to her, Rob,” Eddie says, sensing that Robin was likely about to lie in order to comfort you. 

“Fine,” She replies, sighing, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones as well. “It is. It’s always this exhausting…” 

“But,” Robin drawls teasingly, pushing herself up so she’s no longer slumped down on the couch. “It’s not every shift you get hit on,” She says, wiggling her brows suggestively at you. 

“What? Who got hit on?” Steve pipes up curiously, placing his pastry down on the round table beside him. 

“Y/N,” Robin confirms teasingly, and you cover your face with your hands. 

Eddie huffs from beside you as Steve says, “What? No way! By who?” 

“One of the rich guys. I think he’s a new regular–Paul,” Robin answers, a childish tone to her voice when she says his name that makes you think she might start singing Sitting In A Tree with yours and Paul’s names any second now. 

Steve’s eyes widen comically and Eddie grumbles something incoherent from your side, but you don’t get the chance to ask him what he said before Steve is hurriedly asking: “So? What happened?”

“Well, he asked me out,” You reply, a little embarrassed from their excitement as you adjust so your legs are crossed under you. Paul was charming from the moment you handed him his menu, all smiles and classic handsomeness. 

“And you said?” 

“I said yes,” You reply quietly at the same time as Robin exclaims, She said yes! She’d cackled when you’d told her about it at your lockers after your shift ended, joking that you could quit Hannigan’s and Paul could become your sugar daddy instead. 

Normally, you might have declined such an offer from someone you’d just met–especially if that someone was 10 years older than you–, but the whole point of this move was change. Change required doing things you might not normally do, it required some spontaneity and courage. Both of which were not necessarily your strong suits, but you were trying. The first step was simply saying yes to things. 

Steve smiles, impressed. “Alright, Y/L/N!” 

And then, realization dawns over his features and he quickly turns his attention to Robin. 

“Speaking of dates…” Steve begins, using the same salacious tone Robin had used earlier. “Robin, how are things going with Alicia?” 

Looking at Robin, her eyes widen as she replies, “Oh my God, I totally spaced and forgot to tell you!” 

Leaning in closer to Eddie on your other side, you whisper, “Who’s Alicia?” 

“This girl Robin’s been seeing for a bit,” He answers easily. 

You tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Robin inform, “I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Even if you weren’t looking at her right now you’d be able to hear the smile in her voice. 

“That’s great, what’d she say?” Steve asks, jumping in even as Robin opens her mouth to continue, clearly not finished speaking.

“She said yes!” Robin exclaims, not even pausing to tease him about his over-eagerness to hear the rest of the story or give him a playful roll of her eyes like she usually might. This Alicia woman must mean a lot to Robin if she’s obliged to censor her usual sarcastic quips. 

“Fuck yeah!” Says Steve as he high fives Robin and you chuckle at their odd celebration. 

“Robin, that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” You congratulate, hand on her shoulder, remembering when you were teens and she never thought she’d get to have a girlfriend. Robin smiles sheepishly now. 

What a satisfying end to the day. You’re exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. It feels like things are finally falling into place, like you’d been putting together a puzzle and some of the pieces had gone missing. But you’ve found some of them, and now you’re sliding them into their places. And they fit. For the first time, you feel like you fit, and that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay–that you’re going to be okay. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“So,” Robin drawls as she places two juices on the kitchen table in front of you, one for her and one for you. “Where’s he taking you?” 

“I don’t know yet, actually. All I know is that it’s ‘somewhere nice’ and he’s going to be picking me up at 7:30-ish,” You reply as you twist the cap off your drink. 

“Mysterious,” Robin comments after taking a sip of her juice.

“Your date’s tonight?” Steve asks as he wanders into the kitchen and sticks his head into the fridge, likely scouring the shelves for a snack. 

“Yeah, why?”

Steve stands from his bent position inside the fridge and turns to you and Robin, a slice of cold pizza in hand. “Mine too! Gonna bring her her favourite flowers, take her to her favourite restaurant, go see the tree at Rockefeller–the whole shebang.” 

Steve takes a giant bite out of his pizza slice, then slides over to the table and steals Robin’s drink. She makes a disgusted face at him in protest and pushes the drink away from her when he places it back on the table after taking a healthy swig.

“That’s really sweet, Steve. I’m sure she’ll have a great time,” You tell him genuinely. 

“Ugh!” Robin groans, drawing your attention away from Steve as her head falls back on her shoulders dramatically. “Stop talking about dates! I haven’t seen Alicia in three days and I have a shift tonight,” She complains, pouting. 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Steve mutters, taking his slice with him into the living room where he joins Eddie and Nancy–who sit on the armchair and couch, reading and writing, respectively. 

“Whatever,” Robin replies, slumping down in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Aren’t you seeing her tomorrow?” You ask though you know the answer because it’s all that she’s talked about since she last saw Alicia. You’re sure you could pick the girl out of a crowd without ever having seen her just from everything Robin has spewed to you about her. It’s nice to see her happy. 

“Yeah,” Robin says, tone solemn. 

“Why do you sound disappointed?” You wonder with a chuckle.

“Because tomorrow is not right now,” Robin explains and you snort at her impatience to see her girlfriend again. 

God, you don’t remember the last time you felt that way about someone; wanting to be around them all the time, missing them the second they left your side. Maybe it was college the last time you’d felt that way? You haven’t really dated since then. That one disastrous blind date your previous co-workers set you up on does not count. You’d actually prefer to block it out of your memory. 

Robin sighs. “Anyway, I should hop in the shower before my shift,” She says as she stands and heads to the bathroom. She’s genuinely bummed that she won’t get to see Alicia until tomorrow 

“Have fun,” You joke, head falling back on your shoulders as you watch her walk into the bathroom upside-down. You think you hear a sarcastic ha-ha from her before the door shuts. 

Also upside-down from your current perspective is Eddie who you see sliding the window to the balcony open before ducking under it and going out onto the balcony.

He’s been off all night. While usually he would be cracking jokes and being his usual over-dramatic, loud self, tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself. You’ve spent enough time around him by now to tell when something might be up with him. 

Standing and grabbing the large throw blanket tossed over one end of the couch, you wrap it around yourself before going to the window, sliding it open again and carefully ducking under it as you step out into the chilly night. 

The remnants of winter's early sunset remains on the horizon, lining the city in a dark blue hue while the sky above and beyond that is blanketed by blackness and a dull smattering of stars. That’s the one thing you miss about living in a small town; the lack of light pollution allowed for the stars in the sky to burn bright. Here, it’s impossible to make out a constellation from the street. You suppose the city lights are as close to stars as you’ll get out here.

Eddie leans against the brick and concrete balcony wall, his forearms perched on the cold surface, watching the city as plumes of cigarette smoke swirl around his head. He turns to look at you when he hears you approaching, tucking his chin to his shoulder. 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

“Um,” Eddie begins, unsure of how to phrase this so it doesn’t sound like he’s shooing you off. Just because he doesn’t understand why you’re out here with him doesn’t mean he wants you to leave. He enjoys your company, wants to be around you more. As much as possible, actually. “Did-did you need something?” 

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, “No. No, I just wanted to come check on you.” Though it sounds more like a question. Like you’re prompting him gently. 

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie replies, surprised and not sure what else to say to that. You’re so thoughtful and observant it makes his chest hurt. 

Eddie can feel you examining his face closely and he lets you, continuing to stare out at the city below. 

“I can leave if you-” 

“No,” Eddie replies suddenly before you can even finish your sentence, his eyes finding yours as he says it. Your eyes are wide, expectant. “I mean-no. You’re good.” 

“Okay,” You say, settling in beside him.  

The conversation tapers off again and you’re left with the sounds of honking cars, the muffled racket of people talking in the street below, the robust sound of a public bus stopping down at the corner. A harsh wind kisses your cheeks, likely staining Eddie’s pink. 

He feels awkward. He’s never felt awkward around you before. Not even when you almost strangled him that one morning and he smashed his head against the coffee table. Maybe it’s because of everything going on in his head right now. 

An odd tension sizzles between you. He can feel its strength, more fierce than the wind. But it’s elusive, an enigma he can’t quite grasp. He wants not to think about it and tries not to since he can’t do anything about it anyway. 

“How are you adjusting?” 

“Are you okay?” 

You both break the silence at the same time. A smile breaks across your face and Eddie blows a harsh breath out through his nose. 

“Sorry, you go first,” Eddie offers. 

“I just-are you alright?” You rush out after a brief pause, seemingly self-conscious of the question, though Eddie could never imagine why. “I just thought you maybe seemed a bit off in there…And, like, usually when people separate from the pack, it might mean something’s up,” You explain slowly, that almost inquisitive tone appearing in your voice again. 

Eddie side eyes you, your perceptiveness surprising.

You must take the glance to mean that he’s annoyed because you say, wanting to lighten the mood, “...Or they just want to be left the hell alone.”

Eddie snorts, turning his body to face yours now, his right hip pressed into the cold concrete wall with his elbow resting atop it. You mirror his stance, adjusting the fluffy blanket around you as you go. 

“But I find it usually means the first thing….And-and a lot of the time I don’t think that people really want to be left alone, even if they say they do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie teases lightly, wanting to shift the focus away from himself. He can’t tell you what’s wrong.

“Mhm,” You nod, playing along with his teasing by holding your head high as if you have all the wisdom in the world to offer. But then your expression changes. Just slightly, but Eddie sees it. What you say next isn’t teasing, what you say next is from your soul. 

“I think what they really want—more than anything—is to not have to be alone ever again,” You say, and it’s like a shadow passes over your face. He notes the change in your eyes; like you’re living a past feeling. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees after a beat, tone the furthest from teasing it’s ever been. Both because he knows the feeling, but also because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in it. Because he can tell you’ve been really lonely before. And he hates that his evasion of your question made you recall that loneliness. 

That look in your eyes disappears, and you seem to shake out of it easily as you look him in the face and ask, “What are you thinking?” 

It’s a pretty innocuous question. But right now, at this moment, it holds more weight. 

“I’m thinking that…you’re right. I guess I’ve just been in my head.” 

He wasn’t planning on revealing that. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. It’s like you pulled it out of him. It’s like he can’t resist. 

“Yeah? About what?” You ask, eyes searching his. 

He can’t tell you. He wishes he could, but he can’t. It would be such a jerk move to tell you before your date. And it’s not like he could have told you earlier either. Not after the promise he’d made. He already feels like he’s said too much. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get it,” You say after he doesn’t reply. 

But you don’t sound hurt. Instead, you sound sincere in your acceptance of the fact that he doesn’t want to say anything. It makes him want to tell you even more. Your sincere kindness, your thoughtfulness, it makes him ache. How can he not be honest with you? Especially when you’ve been so honest with him. 

In order to honour his previous promise, Eddie layers the truth in a sheer veil of lies, concealing parts of the truth, while revealing others. 

“There’s-there’s this girl,” Eddie begins, working out how he’s going to weave lies in with the truth. “But one of the guys from my band–Jeff–asked her out recently…And I-” 

“You like her too?” You guess. You’d known from the secret smile that crept onto his face; fond but sad. 

Eddie nods slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to say the words aloud himself. Like saying them would make it more real, would confirm what he already knows. 

“But Jeff asked her out first. So I don’t have a right to…to feel the way I do about it,” Eddie explains, navigating his way around the truth. He’s lying to you almost as much as he’s lying to himself. “And it would be wrong to tell her now. I’d be betraying Jeff’s trust.” It’s not Jeff’s trust he’d be betraying. 

You sigh, stumped. “I’m sorry, that’s hard…tell me about her?” You ask, though your voice sounds strained. 

God, you’re so nice. It’s killing him. He feels so guilty. How can he lie to you about you? He can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like you are. Like every word out of his mouth is the most important thing that has ever been said. 

“Um…Well. She’s-she’s open-minded and accepting, a little weird,” Eddie describes with a chuckle, remembering the morning you greeted him with your bathrobe tie. 

When your eyes connect, he can’t help but soften, impassioned as he looks into them. Wanting so badly to let you know he’s talking about you, he toes the line. 

“She’s genuine. Honest. What you see is what you get with her,” Eddie says. The city noise fades away and your breaths become the wind, your eyes the city lights. 

“She cares about her friends. It feels like she always knows the right thing to say, even if she feels like she doesn’t…And she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.” 

Something changes in your expression. Your eyes burn, searching his intently, looking back and forth between the left and the right. His eyes can’t lie, he can’t force them to. They reveal everything. They can’t conceal or contain his feelings. 

Eddie yearns to hold your face gently in his hands, to feel your lips against his, to feel your smile as he kisses you. 

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as if sudden emotion overwhelms you, your eyes aflame. You wait in anticipation for his next words as wind whistles around you, ruffling your blanket.  

“Anyway,” Eddie coughs, dispelling the tension, and glances down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, you should probably start getting ready for your date.” 

Recognition flashes in your eyes, like you’d forgotten entirely about your upcoming commitment. 

The spell is broken. He hadn’t even realized there’d been a spell until it was broken. 

You take a step back and it’s then Eddie realizes you were so close your toes were nearly touching. Shit. Why had he done that? That was almost worse than telling you everything he’d said was actually about you. 

“Yeah. Right,” You agree, walking back towards the window.

Eddie turns and leans against the balcony wall, looks back over the city. The wind is the wind, and the lights are just lights. 

“Oh, and Eddie?” You call. Eddie swivels his head to look back at you, one foot inside the apartment and one out on the balcony with him, straddling the window sill. “I hope it works out with her.” 

Eddie gives you a good-natured smile. “Yeah. Me too,” He replies as you duck under the window and return to the apartment. You close it shut softly, leaving him with the wind and the lights. 

Eventually, Eddie goes back inside too, locking every intense emotion that had built up inside of him out in the cold. 

As he wanders back into the apartment, he finds your bedroom door is now closed and Nancy’s spot on the couch is vacant. Robin is rushing out of her room in her work uniform while she roots through her bag, mumbling about her keys. And Steve, who’s snacking on some grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter, has Robin’s keys casually swinging from his index finger. Though Robin doesn’t notice until Steve ahem’s, and she snatches them from his hand before reaching the door. 

“Oh!” She says as her hand twists the handle, and spins around on her heel to face Eddie and Steve. “If either one of you is still here before Y/N leaves, tell her to have a good night with Paul. She deserves it.” 

And the door slams shut behind her as Eddie takes his seat on the couch. 

He has every intention of picking his book back up where he left off. Though it remains open in his hands as he stares at your door. He can’t stop staring at your door. Which should be infinitely less captivating than the words between the pages in his hands. And yet it is not. It is far more captivating than any book he has ever or will ever read. The thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree and setting it on fire.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Steve asks, noticing Eddie’s prolonged staring at your door. 

Pulling his eyes very slowly away from your door, Eddie replies, “Yeah, I…Yeah.” 

When his gaze finds Steve’s, he’s looking at Eddie like he’s trying to do long division in his head. 

“...Okay,” Steve drawls, retrieving his jacket from the counter in the kitchen. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later. But for now, I gotta pick up Joselyn. Later, man!” He calls as he exits the apartment, leaving just Eddie and your door, alone. 

He’s not necessarily looking forward to whatever conversation Steve wants to have with him later, but he’s hoping this Joselyn woman will keep Steve busy long enough for Eddie to avoid the conversation entirely–at least for the night. 

It’s been 23 minutes and your bedroom door still has not opened. Eddie knows the exact amount of time it remains closed because although he had tried to focus on the words in his book after Steve left, he simply could not stop looking at your door. And wondering when it would open. Hoping it would open. Estimating when it would open by calculating how long it might take you to get ready. For a solid three seconds, Eddie debates knocking on it, before deciding that’s crazy because-

The door opens. 

“How do I-” 

Eddie stares. Suddenly your door becomes the least captivating thing in the room–in the entire universe–and he can’t believe he ever thought it was captivating to begin with. 

Your black dress—which reaches your ankles—is simple, though it hugs your body wonderfully. The straps are thin and the neck is square-shaped. 

Eddie could equate your beauty to a thousand other beautiful things. He could equate it to paintings and sunsets and flowers. He could equate it to the most beautiful poetry and the most profound stories. But the truth is that none of his comparisons would ever be enough. None of them could express how he feels when he looks at you; like his heart stops and speeds up in his chest at the same time. Like he’s never seen anything beautiful in his life until this moment or even knew what the word beauty meant until he saw you. 

“Oh-Everyone left already?” You question when you realize Eddie is alone. You and Eddie are alone. 

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Oh…alright.”

Eddie swallows hard, trying his very best not to watch you like he’d watched your door. But that task proves impossible. And now it’s quiet. And it’s been quiet for far too long as you stand there fidgeting with your shawl looking like that with no one to tell you that you look like that. No one except Eddie. 

“Um,” Eddie begins. Great start. He can’t say what he wants to, so instead he explains his presence: “I didn’t wanna leave without letting you know, since everyone else left...But, uh, what-what were you gonna say…before?” God, he was the worst! If he can’t say the word to himself, how is he supposed to repeat it out loud to you? 

“Oh,” You say, looking down at yourself bashfully. “I was just gonna ask how I looked,” You explain, waving your hand in dismissal.

Eddie wants to not be the worst. Eddie wants you to think that he’s not the worst. Eddie wants you to know that you look like that. 

“You look great,” He says, slightly breathless. ‘Great’ is a safe word, it’s a friendly word. It’s not the word he wanted to use. 

You smile softly, averting your eyes from him and to the floor as you say a meek, but sincere, “Thank you.” 

Eddie really shouldn’t say anymore. But he loves the way it feels when you get all shy from his compliments. He loves the way you thank him. Like you know his compliment is true, but to hear him say it means something different, something special.

So he can’t keep it in. But he wills himself to reign in his emotions; to freeze the butterflies in his belly before they take flight. 

“You-” look really pretty. “Your dress is really pretty.” 

“Thank you, Eddie,” You say, swaying nervously on the spot. 

Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a net big enough in the world to contain the swarm of butterflies fluttering in his belly right now. It’s downright embarrassing. 

You seek out his eyes. And Eddie knows. And you part your lips, about to speak. 

“I-”

Knock, knock, knock. 

All too soon, your gaze shifts to the front door. But Eddie’s eyes remain on you. 

“Oh, that’s Paul,” You inform, pulling your shawl more tightly around your body before you begin walking towards the door. You make it about three paces before you realize, “Shoot, I forgot my purse in my room, would you mind getting the door?” 

“Sure,” Eddie says, minding a whole awful lot. But he stands from the couch anyway and makes his way to the door as you head back into your bedroom. 

The door swings open, revealing a sharply dressed Paul leaning against the doorframe. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. It’s too pristine, like he’s not moved in it, not sat down. 

When Paul lifts his head from where it’s bent on his neck, his salacious smirk disappears the moment he sees Eddie. He’s far less handsome with that ugly frown on his face. He looks like a petulant child. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Eddie bites his tongue. Then forces a fake smile as he greets politely, “Good to see you too, Paul.” 

He expected nothing less from the guy, but that didn’t make it any easier to hold back. Sure, he wasn’t serving him in the restaurant–so there weren’t any clearly defined rules here–but you were about to go out on a date with the guy. So he held back. 

“Y/N will be right out, she’s-” 

The click of your heels against the wood floors sound behind him. Paul’s smirk spreads across his face like molasses as he eyes you. Though Eddie’s sure they don’t roam further than your chest. 

A surge of unrightful possessiveness swells within him at Paul’s obvious ogling. 

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily and Eddie steps aside, fading into the background. 

“Hey, babe,” Paul says as you reach him and Eddie cringes at the territorial nickname. It takes everything in him not to shudder like he’s just seen a child pick their nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway. 

You hug and Eddie watches as one of Paul's long arms stretches around your waist, though his hand hovers dangerously low before you pull away and Paul remarks, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” You confirm, with a sweet smile. With that, Paul guides you out of the apartment with a hand on your middle back and just before you exit the apartment, you request: “Lock up on your way out?” 

It shouldn’t feel this good to have your attention on him again. Shouldn’t make his heart skip in his chest. 

Eddie just nods, sure that if he tried to speak, he would emit some embarrassing sound instead of a casual sure thing.

You smile at him widely, “Bye, Eddie.” Has his name always sounded that lovely? 

“Bye, Y/N.” Has your name ever felt that lovely rolling off his tongue? 

The door slams shut behind you. 

“Shit.” 

Eddie’s belly bubbles with a feeling. Jealousy burns in his gut. He has no right to feel this way. The moment he names it, he wants to un-name it. The moment he names it, he wants to ban the word from his mind, shove it inside one of those dark spots up there, and hope it never sees the light of day again. 

He made a promise to Robin. He doesn’t get to feel this way. 

So he tries his best not to call it what it is and tells himself that it has to be a simple combination of his hatred for Paul and his knowledge that you are a ridiculously wonderful person who deserves so much better than Paul Becker. But this is all he can allow himself to acknowledge. 

What he will not acknowledge is the third part to this equation that adds up to this feeling. What he will not acknowledge is the way he feels when you look at him, when you say his name, when you stand in front of him in a black dress and he can’t tell you how pretty you look. 

So he focuses on the one thing that is the most natural to him: the fact that Eddie hates Paul. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Next Chapter [coming soon]

A/N: And that is chapter one, folks! I've been working on this for months now, so I really, really hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a nice comment or sending me an ask telling me what you thought!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson series #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things one shot #stranger things series #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #wtrstp⌂

[mirily09]

Some small povs, I wanted 2 share <3

Sharing ur dorm bed with Rafe wasn't easy at all, at least for him. U had a small bed that measured 120×200 cm, which didn't exactly accommodate your 188cm tall boyfriend in a comfortable way. There was nothing to do, though, in order to see you with your busy campus schedule, Rafe had to compromise. He had tried a 100 times to convince u to let him rent u a nice flat with a good-sized bed, but u couldn't agree. He was so generous and spoiled u whenever he could, so u didn't feel like it was fair to take even more. Also, secretly, u loved squeezing tight to his big muscled frame in your small bed.

*after sex he'd lay splayed out on the small space, tugging u to his side. One hand on the soft, naked curve of ur ass and the other under his head. Your body front pressing to his torso and ur hand on his stomach, breathing heavily from his high. He'd ask "u okay doll?" and you'd smile, nodding into his chest. U wouldn't want it any other way.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Rafe picking u up from an outing w ur friends by literally picking u up and carrying u- one hand under ur ass, the other on ur back. Ur girl friends just smile knowingly at Rafe who gives them a smirk. U just bury ur head in his neck, breath in his scent and hold him tight after missing him all day long. He'd walk out of the building proudly, not caring about anyone's looks. U were his girl.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Rafe has been downstairs on the balcony for hours now, discussing business with the always smirking Barry. U usually avoided seeing him, as his dirty looks made u uncomfortable. Rafe did shout at Barry whenever he noticed and had once even punched him, but that didn't keep Barry from sneaking small glances.

As much as u hated the unwanted attention though, your need for Rafe had grown to such measures that u didn't care anymore. U went downstairs and saw both men sitting on the big, comfy garden chairs facing each other. Barry smoked a cig, listening to Rafe who was currently busy explaining something. U opened the glass door, getting both of their attention with Rafe greeting u "Hi pretty girl.", he seemed to be in a good energetic mood. "Hi baby! Missed ya up there", u smiled at him and shortly gave a polite nod to Barry who smirked at you. "Come here!", Rafe patted his lap, signaling you to take a seat. You walked over to Rafe's chair but instead of sitting down as he expected, you put your legs on each side of Rafe's, facing him and placing a small kiss on cheek before laying your head on his shoulder. Your boyfriend looked surprised but still let you stay, pulling your dress down that had slightly exposed your upper legs and rested his hand right above your ass. He continued his conversation while typing on his phone with the free hand. Barry listened while Rafe gave his orders. U were satisfied, feeling your boyfriend's muscled chest against yours, his strong hand on your back and his scent in your nose. In the background u heard Rafe scolding Barry to not check out ur butt on his lap; u couldn't care less though. The more u felt of Rafe, the more u wanted. How could u get him to send Barry away and be with you? U moved your head a little closer to his neck to play soft kisses to his skin, nearing the one place near his jaw that he usually couldn't resist. Before you had reached it, Rafe turned his head to u, whispering "What's going on, doll?". "You've been working for hours now.. can't I convince u to send Barry away for now?", u smiled against his skin, pressing another kiss to his velvety skin. Before he could answer, u heard Barry shuffle in his seat and Rafe snapping at him "getting hot of my girlfriend or what?". "She's putting on a show, it's not my fault bro!". "Get outta here man and get yourself a girl!", Rafe told him in a cold, menacing tone that made Barry jump to his feet, excuse himself with a dumb smile and making sure to quickly leave the grounds. With Barry out of sight, Rafe gripped the plush flesh of your ass with both his hands, turning his head to you and murmuring "u satisfied now, princess?". "Very!", u kissed his lips.

#rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #slightly suggestive

[toomuchracket]

speaking of matty wedding planning: you guys going to taste test all of the food and being able to take people (small group) w/ you so you, the boys and their partners all going and getting a bit drunk off all the wine tasting and deserts and food lol but its one of the highlights of planning ur wedding bc matty is just very giggly and happy to be around his mates planning everything

((and maybe he is in the studio one day and has to pause a session bc he is fielding calls from the wedding people asking him about if he’d rather have a DJ or band - thats a whole other discussion btw))

this is so fucking cute actually like the people at the venue say that the tables for the meal are eight people each so that's how many people (including you and matty) can attend the food/wine tasting. and that's perfect because you can bring adam & carly, george & charli and ross and one of your friends (who you're sneakily trying to set up)!! and there's just so much love in the air because everyone is just so so excited for you and matty's wedding, and the food is all so good (to the point where choosing the menu is agonising) and the staff are great and they're giving you the equivalent of literally an entire bottle of wine per person to try over the course of the meal so everyone's tipsy and just giggly and happy to be here. and matty has his arm around you as you listen to adam and carly talk about a funny story from their wedding - and watch ross and your friend flirt shamelessly with each other lol - and he kisses your head at one point and sort of murmurs "come out for a smoke?". so the two of you slip out of this beautiful venue and share a cig, matty standing behind you holding you tight, watching the sun set. and he says in your ear "if our actual wedding day is even half as good as today then it'll be perfect", and you kiss his hand and say "it will be, i know it". and it is!!

the band vs. dj debate is literally the most difficult part about wedding planning; as you said, matty and you are both avoiding calls from the venue so you don't have to make a decision on it. you are ADAMANT that matty isn't allowed to perform, because if there's any day you should be allowed to not work, it's your wedding day; he took this surprisingly well, probably because performing would mean having to be separated from you for like the duration of a song or two and matty is not having that at all. the rest of the boys are quite keen to play for your first dance if they can, though - maybe you get jamie squire (who, by the way, is absolutely incredible) or phoebe to sing, depending on the song. you feel kinda bad letting any of your friends do anything resembling their day jobs at your wedding, but everyone just wants to do all they can for you and matty because they love you so much. i think you probably end up having a dj do most of the night (which basically translates to "letting several of your friends play a mix of cheese and bangers"), but it all works our out perfectly lol <3

#mads muses #mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #fiance!matty

[whatbecomesofthebrokenheartedfic]

What Becomes of the Brokenhearted

Fandom: Fallout 4

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor & Piper Wright, Nick Valentine & Piper Wright

Additional tags: friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, canon divergence

Summary: Nora wakes up two hundred years in the future after losing her husband, her family, her whole world. In Diamond City, she thinks she may have found the one man in the wasteland who can help save her son, the only part of her life before the war she has left.

TW: discussion and representation of depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Eventual gore and body horror. Eventual smut.

00. Blue Prelude [1/2]

[> Next] [read on AO3]

Once they were back inside Diamond City Security’s patrol perimeter, Nick pulled his matchbook and cigarette pack from his pocket. They could afford to be a little distracted now that they were relatively safe—and he’d been anticipating that for the last three days, ever since he’d smoked the pack down to the last cig.

“You mind?” he asked with a sidelong glance at Piper, tucking the filter between his lips. She never did, but he always asked anyway.

She waved his words away as he struck a match against the palm of his right hand and cupped the delicate little flame at the end against the cold, humid breeze that whistled down Lansdowne Street. It was looking like rain, and had been since the two of them had crawled out of a manhole on the other side of the Commons an hour ago. Hopefully the weather’d have the decency to let them get back inside the city before dumping something acidic or radioactive on their heads, but Nick wasn’t willing to bet on it.

Piper cocked her head at him as he returned the matchbook and now-empty pack to his pocket. “You’re not gonna share, huh?”

“Not while you’ve got lungs to ruin,” Nick replied.

She scoffed halfheartedly at him. “I should have left you locked up in that office.”

Nick chuckled. God, but it was good to be headed home. “Anything new around here since I’ve been gone?” Nick asked, waving to the guard with his free hand as they rounded the corner onto Brookline and came within sight of the next security checkpoint. Unless the guard at the post was brand new, Nick would be recognized—he was hard to mistake for anybody else, even at a distance. Sometimes, like now, it wasn’t a bad thing—couldn’t complain about not being taken for a raider and shot at.

Piper was easily recognizable too, for that matter, in her bright red coat. Heh. Diamond City’s own dynamic duo of fashion disasters.

Piper’s response to his question was just a hair too slow, and he caught the edge of a grimace as he looked at her again. She made a noncommittal noise, which in Piper-speak translated to a “Yes, but I’m not going to talk about it right now,” maybe with a side order of “Yes, and you’re not going to like it.”

Well, damn. A guy gets locked in an office for two weeks and the world has the nerve to go on without him. Piper did that thing with her hands where she twisted the fingers of one in the palm of the other and then switched. That side order might actually be a full entrée. Whatever it was, it had her in knots. Silence from Piper was just as loud as anything she shouted at the mayor about.

“Alright, hold up,” the checkpoint guard said as they approached the blockade, holding up a hand, and then— “Wait a second. Nicky Valentine?”

“The one and only,” Nick said without a hint of irony.

“Damn,” the guard said, drawing the word out like he was genuinely a little surprised. Nick didn’t know his name; maybe if he saw the man’s face, but the umpire helmet obscured any distinguishing features except for his voice, which Nick didn’t recognize. “Word around town was you were dead. Or, uh—you know, whatever.”

A fair portion of his good mood curled up and died right there on the cracked pavement. Yeah, whatever, because things that aren’t really alive can’t really die now, can they? Nick sighed—or rather, he made a noise that sounded like a sigh even though he didn’t have lungs, or functioning vocal cords, and in the end what the hell difference did it make?

Really was no place like Diamond City.

“Not yet,” Nick replied, smiling thinly.

“Are we good to go, then?” Piper cocked her hip, and her head, and an eyebrow to boot, and Nick’s smile twitched towards genuine. Never missed a change in tone, that one.

The guard stared at her for a heartbeat, and then turned deliberately back towards the corner they’d just come around, every bit a dismissal as his next words. “Yeah, go on.”

“Much obliged,” Nick said, touching the brim of his hat. “Stay safe out here.”

He didn’t get a response, and Piper wasted no time rolling her eyes and stalking around the barricade. Nick had to jog three strides to catch up with her, and he kept his mouth shut as she sighed through gritted teeth, as the guard’s radio crackled with static, and Boston’s old metal bones groaned around them.

As they turned onto Jersey, Nick cast another look at Piper out of the corner of his eye. Her lips were pursed, her brow furrowed. “Not the warmest welcome I’ve ever had,” he said lightly.

Piper blew out another sigh, tired instead of irritated this time, and the hard line of her shoulders eased just a bit. “Well, that’s whatcha get for hanging around with Diamond City’s own social pariah.”

“Couldn’t ask for better company,” Nick said with feeling.

She cringed, freckled nose wrinkling. Not ready yet, then. That was alright. They’d have time now that he wasn’t stuck going stir crazy in the vault Overseer’s office. No need to push the issue.

Nick flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. “How’s Ellie been holding up?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Piper said. “Last time I saw her she was holding one of your ties and crying into a photo album.”

Now there was a heartbreaking mental image. He’d have to find a way to make it up to her. Again. “Poor gal. Not gonna let me leave town again for a month, is she?”

“I’m not either,” Piper said. “In fact—”

A single loud clang of metal—distinct from the ever-present, bassline groan of skyscrapers, and instantly recognizable to any resident of Diamond City—sent a flock of large black birds erupting from the top of the Wall and wheeling across the cloud-bruised sky. The sound was followed by the rapid click-click-click of a chain unwinding.

Shit. Nick looked at Piper, snuffed the cigarette in the palm of his right hand, and tucked the butt in his pocket.

“That’s the gate,” Piper said as he drew his revolver. “It’s not even—oh, hell.”

Nick bolted toward the Wall, Piper at his heels, and jumped and then ducked below the low barricade that ran along the sidewalk parallel to it. Piper swore quietly from behind him and leather scraped as her coat caught on something, but then she was right there beside him, her own pistol in hand and her shoulder pressed up against his.

“Jeez, could you not sprint straight toward danger?” She elbowed him, but not hard. “This is exactly the sort of thing that got you whacked unconscious by a crazy broad with a baseball bat,” she hissed.

“See anything?” he asked, checking the way they’d been walking, but the street was just as empty as it had been a moment ago. He craned his neck to see past Piper, who was looking down her sights the way they’d come, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary there, either.

“Nothing,” she said.

A deep boom echoed through the streets as the city gate finished its descent. A dog barked from somewhere in the direction of the courtyard. The wind sighed softly, Piper panted beside him, and his coolant pump thumped in his chest.

But, other than that, nothing. No gunfire, no shouting. What the hell?

Piper was peering at him, brow scrunched in the same way his was. Nick gestured for her to follow and crouch-walked his way further south along the barrier, towards the security checkpoint that spanned the last few feet of Jersey before the courtyard.

Nick recognized the broad build of the guard standing—standing, casually, like there was nothing wrong—atop the barricade, and he frowned.

“Hey, Hank!” he called, waving and leaning around the end of the barrier. The guard jumped at the sudden sound. “Where’s the trouble?”

Hank hesitated for just a second, evidently processing—Nick Valentine, we thought you were dead, or whatever—and then lowered his half-raised rifle, shoulders relaxing marginally along with it.

“You can put the piece away, Nicky,” Hank said, nodding toward the two of them. “The trouble’s standing right next to you.”

Confusion wrinkled Piper’s nose, followed up almost immediately by fury. She stood straight up out of cover, one fist balled at her side and the other squeezed around her pistol’s grip.

“That rat bastard,” she ground out.

“Pipes—” Nick stood, reaching out to take her arm, but she was already shoving her pistol back in its holster and stepping past him.

“I’ve had it this time, Nicky!” she snapped, taking long strides that turned into a run as she passed under the checkpoint. Nick hurried to follow her.

The courtyard looked the way it always did on an average day in Diamond City, except for the gate being down before it got too dark to see, and the edge of anticipation in the air. Wagons and pack brahmin ringed the weathered old statue in the center of the open space, and caravanners shifted nervously around them, weapons at the ready. There was Cricket, with her distinct yellow headscarf and pink eyeshadow Nick could see even from here, one of the Vault 81 runners, a handful of dogs, and even one of those ghoul horses from out west past the Glowing Sea.

Piper ignored it all, striding straight up to the intercom and slapping the call button with more force than was strictly necessary. “Danny Sullivan, you open this gate right now!”

Danny’s voice, crackling over the speaker, was strained. “I got orders not to let you in, Ms Piper.”

“Oh, screw your orders!”

“Mayor McDonough’s really steamed this time. I’m sorry; I’m just doing my job.”

“Just doing your job?” Piper laughed, high and shaky.

The mayor, huh? No doubt the rat bastard in question, and no wonder Piper was so upset. She’d been pressuring McDonough about security’s refusal to investigate missing persons for nearly a year now, and—

Oh god. Hopefully things hadn’t come to a head since he’d been missing, though that would be one hell of a coincidence—

“Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it?” Nick leaned back to dodge one of the hands she waved for emphasis. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the crowd that had been milling around the courtyard beginning to coalesce into a half-circle a few feet behind where he and Piper stood, no doubt drawn by her volume.

“Oh, look, it’s the scary reporter! Boo!”

“Piper,” Nick said lowly.

“Ms Wright,” Hank said from her other side. He’d come down the checkpoint steps by the intercom, and moved to put a hand on Piper’s shoulder, but she swatted it away.

“I live here! You can’t just—” She curled her hands, like she had them on Danny’s shoulders and she was shaking him. “—lock me out!”

Nick stepped forward, up beside her, and leaned into the intercom. “Hey there, Danny,” he said. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Is that Detective Valentine? Jeez, what happened to you? It’s been weeks.”

“Ran into some trouble on a case outside of Goodneighbor,” Nick replied. Though it was more like trouble ran into him, multiple times, at high velocity, and was made from hickory. Darla would’ve made Moe Cronin proud with that swing of hers. “Piper here pulled me out of it. Woulda been scrap metal without her help. You mind filling me in on what’s going on?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

Piper hissed a sigh through clenched teeth and met Nick’s eyes, shaking her head subtly. Whatever it was, they could talk about it later. Right now they needed to convince Danny to open the gate.

“Well, we’ve been a little occupied trying to get back to the city in one piece,” Nick said neutrally. “So we haven’t had too much time to chat about any new goings on.” He found an angle and went with it: “But it sure looks like things have been busy around here. Lotsa caravans parked out front today. Simon handing out free chems in there, or what?”

“We’re all just standing out here in the open,” Piper snapped, picking up on it immediately. “Not really a great way to bring in business! Do you want to be the one explaining to Crazy Myrna why she’s missing out on all this stock?”

From behind them, there was a chorus of murmured agreement from the caravanners. For once it sounded like the two of them might be on the side of the popular opinion.

Danny exhaled a drawn-out, staticky sigh. “Okay, listen, the whole city’s—”

Piper wasn’t having it. She leaned closer to the speaker, voice dropping in pitch and trembling with pent-up emotion. “This is wrong and you know it, Danny!”

“Jeez, alright!” There was a beat of silence on the other end of the speaker. “Alright. No need to make it personal. Give me a minute.”

Some mechanism powered up within the Wall, and the winding chain began clicking again. The crowd that had gathered behind them began to shuffle back to life.

Piper’s hands trembled the same way her voice did. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes damp with angry tears. “Thank you.”

Hank started to lift his hand like he was going to put it on Piper’s shoulder, and then thought better of it. “Ms Wright, listen—”

Piper pointed a finger in his face. “Fuck off.”

Hank held his hands up in surrender, grumbling under his breath as he turned and headed back to his post on top of the barricade. Piper closed her eyes, clasped her hands behind her head, and blew out a long breath.

Crisis averted—for now. The matter of what new beef was going on between Pipes and the mayor would be something he’d have to dig into, but it could wait until after they’d gotten settled. He owed Ellie—well, he owed Ellie a lot, but after the last two weeks he owed her more than usual. If cases hadn’t been piling up in his absence, maybe the three of them and Nat could take the day to do something relaxing.

Piper let her hands fall back to her side, and Nick reached out to touch her arm briefly. She managed a small smile. Whatever had gone down while he was away was clearly bad—but nothing they couldn’t handle together. Hopefully.

Something cold and damp touched the seam on the outside of his left hand and Nick nearly jumped out of what skin he had left.

He looked down to see a German Shepherd staring up at him with big brown eyes. Its tail wagged, its tongue lolled, and it shifted from paw to paw in doggy excitement.

“Dogmeat,” Nick said, kneeling to scratch behind his ears. Dogmeat woofed in recognition of his name. “Well hey there, fella. Where’d you come from?”

“He’s with me,” a contralto voice said from somewhere over Dogmeat’s head, and Nick looked up to see dirty leather hiking boots and long legs clad in Vault-Tec blue standing about six feet away—it was the runner he’d noticed when he and Piper came into the courtyard.

Yeah, definitely a runner, if the muscular curves of her calves and thighs were any indication. He didn’t let his gaze linger, pulling it up past her charcoal winter coat and dirty fur collar to her coppery, angular face, framed by glossy black fringe. She was looking him over warily, dark eyes narrowed, one hand resting on the barrel of a laser rifle slung on her back, ready to pull it into position. He didn’t take it personally; the folks in 81—at least the ones he knew—were nice enough, but their surface workers tended to be jumpy.

Except now that he was paying attention to her, he could see the number on her collar wasn’t an 81, but a 111.

Huh.

Alright. He knew 81—everyone around here did; it was hard not to know the people supplying you with clean water and real coffee—and he’d had too much time to get familiar with the Overseer’s office of 114. There was a 95 down past Suffolk this side of the Glowing Sea, a 75 in Malden, and that business down in the other DC involved some kid from 101. Maybe 111 was outside of the Commonwealth and that’s why he’d never heard of it, or maybe it just opened up to the surface. 81 had only opened up, what, a decade ago now?

The woman inclined her head at Dogmeat, keeping her gaze just shy of Nick’s. “Do you two know each other?” Her voice was something out of an old pre-War movie, lacking the accent that had two centuries to evolve after the bombs fell. Her teeth were white and almost perfectly straight—not wasteland dental work, for sure. Were freckles normal for a vaultie? He was no expert on human biology, but didn’t you get those from the sun, or could they be genetic?

“Sure, we’ve worked together a time or two,” Nick said, looking back at Dogmeat so he didn’t have to look at her anymore. This was going to be something—he could feel it churning away in his nonexistent gut already. He glanced down at her hands; the right still squeezing the barrel of her rifle, and the left hooked deceptively calmly in her coat pocket. Her short nails were painted with chipped green polish and she had an honest-to-god gold wedding band on her left ring finger.

Hand-me-down, maybe? Who did that anymore?

“I see,” she said, like that was the answer she expected and not a completely absurd exchange. She drummed her fingers on the barrel of the rifle, and then squared her feet like she’d come to a decision. Nick scratched under Dogmeat’s chin, and leaned back as Dogmeat lunged to lick his face.

Then, before he could formulate a reply for her:

“You’re Nick Valentine, yes? The detective?”

Nick paused before looking back up, but she still flinched at the motion—because he was a synth, because she didn’t know him, because this was the surface and he could imagine how frightening that would be to a vault dweller, some combination of the three?

“That’s right,” he said lightly.

She looked at Piper. “And you’re…?”

“Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences,” Piper replied, every bit the professional reporter sniffing out a scoop. No doubt she’d noticed the vault number by now, too.

Recognition raised the woman’s eyebrows slightly. “You work for the newspaper.”

“I run the newspaper,” Piper corrected. “We’re the hard look at the truth. You got a story for me, Blue?”

The woman moved her mouth like she was going to say something, then closed it again and started over. “I—maybe. I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” she said quickly, and then took a steadying breath, and looked Nick right in the eyes. “But I need your help. I’m trying to find a missing person.”

Ah.

Nick gave Dogmeat one last scritch behind the ears, and then stood slowly. The woman didn’t flinch this time, but every tense line of her body said she wanted to step away from him, even though she didn’t follow through. Probably, she’d never seen a synth this close before—or maybe she had. Wasn’t like any other rust bucket wearing this face was the conversational sort. Anyway, he got it—she was a slight gal and he was pretty sure intimidatingly tall was part of the older models’ build specs. No offense taken.

“Well, you came to the right people,” Nick said gently. “If not the right place.” He inclined his head at the gate. “If you want to talk right now, we can head to my office.”

“So soon?” she asked, voice ticking up, brimming with carefully concealed desperation, and Nick’s heart broke for her.

“Sure,” he replied. “I’ve been away for a while so I’ll have to get settled, but that shouldn’t take long.” Ellie wouldn’t be happy, but she knew him. “We’re headed there now. You can walk with us if you like.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but didn’t fall, and her neutral expression didn’t shift. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

Nick gave her a brief smile. “Bit early for that, but the pleasure’s mine,” he said.

“You mind if I tag along?” Piper asked. “I’ve been reporting on disappearances across the Commonwealth. Unfortunately, yours is far from the only one.”

“Piper’ll be able to help you just as much as I can,” Nick said. “For a case like yours, we typically work together.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” the woman said. She shifted from one foot to the other, and her fingers flexed as she squeezed the rifle barrel. “I… I’m a little out of my depth, here. I’d appreciate any help you’re willing to give.”

Nick nodded. “We’ll do what we can, Missus…?”

Her expression did change, then—she blinked back her tears and pressed her lips into a thin line. His mistake—missing person, wedding ring—

“It’s Nora,” she said, voice rasping. She cleared her throat. “Just… Nora.”

A picture he didn’t care for but that was far too common out here started to form in his head. Nick nodded once. “Alright, Nora. I can’t promise anything, but we’ll have you break down the whole story and then see what we can do, alright?”

She nodded, unwilling or unable to speak.

Nick stepped toward the gate, and Piper moved to fall into step beside him. “Office is on the other side of town, so it’s a bit of a walk,” he said over his shoulder. “Ever been to Diamond City before?”

Nora hesitated fractionally before answering. “Not—no. No, I haven’t.”

Huh. The missus thing, he could infer a lot from, but it was weird that that one tripped her up—maybe that was how she knew who he was. She hadn’t been a client in the past, had she? No, he’d remember a woman that looked like her. And he’d definitely remember the unusual vault number.

Piper caught his eye. One-eleven, she mouthed, and Nick tipped his head forward in a subtle nod.

“Piper!”

Nick stopped dead in his tracks just past the turnstiles as McDonough, flanked by a pair of guards that trailed reluctantly behind him, stalked down the stairs that led into the city proper. His face was red, mouth twisted into a furious snarl under his moustache. In one hand, he clutched a bundle of papers hard enough to crumple them.

Piper squared her shoulders and gritted her teeth. “Time for round two,” she muttered.

“Pipes…” Nick said pleadingly. A second round of whatever pissed the mayor off badly enough that Piper didn’t even want to talk about it might get them 86’d—permanently.

McDonough shook the handful of papers at her as he moved closer. “Who let you back inside? You devious, rabble-rousing—”

“Oh, we’re gonna start with the name calling today, huh?”

“—slanderer!”

Nick glanced over his shoulder at Nora, who was frowning and leaning to see around him at what all the commotion was. He held his bad hand by his side and lifted one finger—one second—and pretended not to notice the way she stared at it.

“The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I’ll have that printer scrapped for parts!”

“Ooh, is that a statement, McDonough?” Piper spread her hands wide. “What a headline! ‘Tyrant mayor shuts down the press!’ How about this one? ‘Tyrant mayor throws free speech in the dumpster!’”

“Enough!”

“Oh, you’ve had enough?” Piper leaned in. “What about the people of Diamond City? Do you think they haven’t had enough? How long are you going to let the disappearances of your citizens go uninvestigated?”

“I have already told you—”

“That security doesn’t have the time to help?” Piper cut in. “That’s a load of crap, McDonough, and you know it. I want the truth. What’s the real reason security never investigates any kidnappings?”

Behind him, Nick sensed Nora shift closer.

“Isn’t it because you order them not to?” Piper asked, in a tone that said she didn’t need an answer. “Got a justification for that one? I’d love a quote.”

“Enough!” McDonough bellowed. “I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut because I’ve had enough of your disgusting conduct! From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice. This is your final warning.”

“You have no right—” Piper started, just as Nick said “Now hold on—”

McDonough whirled on him, every ounce of vitriol redirecting in a split second, and stuck a finger in Nick’s face.

“And you, Mister Valentine, can consider yourself under the same warning. Longtime resident or not, condoning this blatant scaremongering will not be tolerated.” His eyes narrowed and he wagged his finger like he was scolding a child and not a synth a foot taller than him and nearly twice his age. “You are here only due to the goodwill of the people of Diamond City, and I can assure you that allying yourself with this muckraker is rapidly wearing that thin.”

Piper somehow bulled up even more and took a deep breath, no doubt about to lay into the mayor again, but Nick caught her wrist and held it there, and met her eye with a significant look when she turned to tell him off, too.

Let McDonough win this round. They sure as hell couldn’t—the best they could get was this, right here: getting to walk away without being tossed without any time to tell Nat or Ellie what was happening.

McDonough stood there for a second, looking between the two of them, face flushed, and then turned on his heel and stalked toward the ticket booth, guards slouching along behind him. No doubt poor Danny Sullivan was about to be on the receiving end of a similar tirade.

“Oh, god,” Piper said through gritted teeth. “Natalie.”

She bolted forward, footfalls echoing sharply as she dodged around a trader and out of sight up the stairs.

Nick sighed as the mayor lit into Danny, as the hubbub of traders going about their business picked up again in the courtyard, as the city moved on around him. He caught Nora’s eye over his shoulder, and she subtly raised one brow at him.

“We better get going,” he said, moving toward the stairs.

“Do I need to check in with the gate guard?”

“Think he’s gonna be tied up for a bit.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Well, he did appreciate that. “Ah, we’re already in it.” He waved a hand—the good one this time, and stuffed the bad one in his pocket with his forgotten cigarette. “I’ll let ’em know you’re a client later. They don’t usually ask too many questions about that.”

“Alright.”

As they passed through the interior gate, he carefully didn’t see the sign hanging on the chain link fence beside it: HUMANS ONLY—NO MUTANTS, NO GHOULS, NO SYNTHS. But he wasn’t a synth, he was the synth, Diamond City’s own local curiosity, only here because of the goodwill of a man thirty years dead and his own obvious nonhuman nature. Nick was the one synth that couldn’t pretend to be anything but.

Nora would almost certainly notice it too, and she’d have questions. They always did. With any luck she’d save them until after he’d gotten the opportunity to ask his own and the details of her missing person sorted out.

In the few minutes they’d been caught up just past the turnstiles with the mayor, a gentle rain had started to fall. Neon and stadium lights turned the city into a lightshow bright enough to rival the Glowing Sea’s corona of radiation. Merchant stalls ringing the infield still buzzed with activity, and would continue to do so for a few hours yet.

For all its flaws—and boy, it sure had them—it beat the hell out of anywhere else in the Commonwealth. Guilt and gratitude warred in the back of Nick’s mind, like they always did when he returned from a case and saw the city like this, and for once gratitude managed to win out. It definitely beat the inside of the overseer’s office.

Off to the left, halfway down the stairs, Piper was already standing over Nat on their front porch, saying something quietly. Nat wouldn’t be happy about being pulled away from hawking papers, which was almost certainly what Piper was doing.

Nick glanced back; Nora was looking out over the city with an expression he couldn’t quite pin down. If he had to describe it, pained would be a good synonym. Her lips were pursed just slightly, her brow quirked in some repressed emotion, her eyes narrowed critically. Dogmeat whined and pressed against her leg, looking up at her face, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” he asked, and the corners of her mouth twitched downward slightly.

“Yes, it is,” she murmured.

Well. It might not be much compared to a vault, but it was still—for better or for worse—the safest place in the Commonwealth.

“If you don’t mind a detour, we’ll be picking up Piper’s sister from her office,” Nick said, pointing. “It’s just right down there.”

Nora stared for a heartbeat. “Yes, that’s alright.” She dragged her gaze away from the sisters to meet his eyes briefly before looking away again.

“Something to ask?”

Nora hesitated, and then—so unexpectedly he almost moved away—took a step toward him and lowered her voice. “Would the mayor really have them both kicked out of the city?”

Huh. “You know, before today, I woulda said probably not,” he replied honestly. “Not really something he has the authority to do anyway, but after that business out there, I wouldn’t put leaning on the city council past him.”

Nora frowned. “I see.”

“Nicky!”

Nick turned at the shout to see Nat glaring up at him from Piper’s porch. She stomped her foot, squared her shoulders, and planted her fists on her hips.

“Where have you been?”

“On a case, kid,” he called back. He motioned for Nora to join him as he sauntered down the stairs. “Where else?”

“You’re never out on a case that long,” she shot back.

“Well I was this time,” he said, and ruffled her hair with his good hand. “Sorry I worried ya.”

She swatted at him. “I wasn’t worried,” she said defensively.

“Sure, sure. You coming with us to the office?”

“Yes,” Piper said.

“Yeah, but I don’t know why,” Nat groused. “Are you guys gonna tell me what’s going on or not?”

“I already said later.” Piper squared her shoulders and looked at Nick, determined. Her earlier fury and worry looked to have cooled into calm now that she’d verified Nat was safe, but it was the sort of calm that carried an undertone of wariness. “Let’s get to it.”

“Alright then,” Nick said.

He led them the rest of the way down into the infield, and then made a sharp left at the base of the stairs, and then a right onto Third Street, unwilling to cut through the market this time of day. Going past the security building and school was typically faster, and he caught less stares from people who thought there shouldn’t be an exception to the no synths rule. And he was not in the mood to deal with Myrna screaming at him from across the square. Not today.

The Wright gals trailed a little way behind him; Nat still haranguing her sister to tell her what was going on and Piper staunchly refusing, and Nora followed behind them, looking around at everything like she was seeing it for the first time. Maybe she was. He’d find out eventually.

It was dark under the upper walkways, and only got darker as they hung another right onto Second Street. The only light on was the one bolted to the wall beside Arturo’s door, halfway down the road.

His sign was off. Ellie really did think he was dead, huh.

Boy. It looked like guilt might win out after all.

Nick picked up his pace, ducking under the corner of the tattered red awning that had come loose again and into the alcove that housed the door to his office.

“You coming, Blue?” Piper said. Nick glanced back; she stood under the edge of the awning looking back down the street.

Nora’s response was distant in more ways than one. “…Yes, I… yes.”

Well, he’d be hesitant to follow three complete strangers down a dark alley, too. Especially if he knew one of them was Natalie Wright.

Nick pushed the door open to find his office dark. “Ellie?” he called. “You here?”

There was a crash from up in the loft, a surprised “Nick?” and then bare footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Nick stepped fully into the office, and Piper and Nat followed him. Nora must have at least been under the awning by now, but he didn’t look back to check as Ellie burst around the corner, loose hair making a frizzy halo around her head.

“Oh my god, it’s you,” she said. Her eyes were wide and red and wet, and Nick’s heart broke for her exactly the way he knew it was going to.

“Hard to mistake this mug for anybody else,” he said, holding out his arms for her.

She threw her arms around his neck and he squeezed her tightly, lifting her to her tiptoes. She took a shuddering breath, and he rubbed her back up and down with his good hand, trying to soothe two weeks of hurt as best he could.

They stood there like that for a solid minute, Ellie breathing tremulously, Nick swaying her gently. He’d have gladly stood there all night if that woulda made her feel better, but…

Guilt was definitely winning this round.

“I got a client with me, Ellie,” he said lowly.

She sniffled against his shirt. “Of course you do.” She said it gently and he knew she’d understand, but he couldn’t pretend that one didn’t sting a little. She leaned back, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand and leaving the other on his shoulder. “Give me just a minute?”

“Take your time, sweetheart,” he said. She nodded, took a handful of calming breaths, and then gave him a one second gesture and stepped past the curtain into the other room.

Nick straightened, and glanced aside at Piper and Nat, standing quietly in the doorway, and beyond them under the awning, Nora, staring down at the ground.

He cleared his throat. “Ma’am—” her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, “—if you want to have a seat here at the desk, we’ll get started in a moment.”

He moved further into the office, switching the lights on and stepping around his desk. It looked like Ellie had been sitting here earlier—there were photographs of the two of them and the Wright gals spread across the desk, one of his ties, a handkerchief, all the detritus of someone crying over a loved one.

Over her employer. He wasn’t that good a boss. Poor gal probably needed a vacation now more than ever, and here he was opening up another case before he’d even had time to tell her he wasn’t dead. Or whatever.

Piper made a beeline to Ellie’s desk. “You guys mind if I borrow a notebook?” she asked, not bothering to get a response before opening one of the drawers. That was alright; she knew where they were for a reason. At least she brought her own pens.

Nat stared down Nora in the doorway for a second, and then darted past Piper—who thwacked her with a notebook—to sit on Ellie’s desk. “I’m not making us any money if I’m not selling papers, you know,” she said loudly.

Nick smiled to himself; there it was.

“We can afford to cool the engines for one afternoon, kiddo,” Piper said.

“That’s not what you were saying yesterday,” Nat countered. Piper stuck her tongue out at her.

Nick settled in his own chair, on the side of the desk opposite the door, and made his body relax, trying to appear as unintimidating and open as possible.

Nora stepped into the room and looked around warily, like she was expecting some sort of trap. Or maybe she was just curious. The tiny little office, with its cramped layout, and filing cabinets and boxes literally overflowing with case files, was no doubt a far cry from whatever facilities they had in a vault. How people living literally underground had more square footage than Nick and Ellie did, he’d never understood. Diamond City real estate went for a premium.

Every line of Nora’s body was tense as she sat at the literal edge of her seat so that big laser rifle had enough room between her back and the back of the chair. Dogmeat flopped down at her feet, tongue lolling, the only one in the room totally at ease.

“You want something to drink?” Nick asked her. “We got a couple different teas, purified water, maybe a soda or two?”

“Do you have coffee?” She sounded hopeful—like a vault dweller wishing for a comfort from home.

“We might have a few packs left. Pipes, we got any coffee over there?”

“Uh, you’ve got chicory tea,” she said, rifling through the little box of beverage components they kept on top of the minifridge by Ellie’s desk.

Nora actually smiled, very faintly. “Chicory tea sounds lovely.”

“One chicory tea comin’ up,” Piper said, and sauntered out of the room to fill the pitcher.

“I’d like a cola!” Nat called after her sister.

“Get it yourself!” Piper said from the next room.

“So, listen,” Nick said gently, without leaning forward. “I’m sure you’re eager to get started, but the way I like to handle these things is to take it a little slow during the interview. You’re gonna remember more details if you’re relaxed and have space to think, alright? So we’ll take it easy for a couple of minutes while you get comfortable and then we’ll get down to brass tacks.”

“I understand,” Nora said. “But I don’t have much to go on.”

“That’s alright too,” he reassured. “We’ll see what I can do with what you’ve got, alright?”

“Alright.”

Piper swept back in the room, followed by Ellie, who was a little red in the face still but otherwise put together. She’d done her hair up in a French twist; it was much less frizzy now.

“I’m sorry about that, honey,” she said to Nora. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks with Nick gone. I’m Ellie Perkins, detective’s secretary.”

“Nora,” Nora said. “Um. Client, I suppose.”

“Missing person, El,” Nick said softly.

Ellie mouthed oh. “I’m so sorry,” she said, full of feeling. “But you’re in the best place in the Commonwealth for it, now. Nick’s specialty is finding people. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, alright?”

Nora’s shoulders somehow tensed further at that. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

She looked like a woman on the edge of a panic attack. Her back was straight, her heart was beating quickly and her breathing was shallow, her hands were balled into fists resting on her thighs.

He got it. The office was small, and the number of people trying to share its square footage was a little high right now. He didn’t care for crowds, either.

“You know, in a case like yours, the devil is in the details,” Nick said. “I’m gonna be asking you a lot of questions, so we may be here a while. You’re welcome to take your coat off and settle in.”

She sighed a little. “Right.”

Nick turned in his seat to give her some semblance of privacy, but kept her in his peripheral vision as he started clearing off the desk. Nora leaned forward and ducked out of the strap for the laser rifle, then held it in her lap for a moment, staring as if she didn’t know what to do with it. Very carefully, like it was a wild animal that might bite her if she moved too fast, she leaned it barrel-up against the wall beside the chair.

Unused to carrying a weapon, maybe, or unfamiliar with that particular kind.

“Where’s that photo box?” Nick asked, hands full of the photographs Ellie had spread across the desk.

“Here!” Nat said, and stretched forward to hand it to him. Her arms were too short to reach, and before he could scoot the chair back Ellie had the box in hand and was holding it out to him.

Nora winced as she leaned forward and pulled her arms from her coat. Was she injured? Surely her first stop in Diamond City would be to see the doctor if she was. But if she was desperate and had never been here before… Alright, that was one more thing for him to pay attention to.

“Thanks very much,” Nick said, dropping the pictures in. Ellie passed the box back to Nat.

Nora hung the coat neatly on the back of the chair, but didn’t lean back. Well, alright, he’d take a marginal settling over none at all. Sometimes people had a hard time relaxing. Far from the first time he’d seen it.

And then she swept a hand behind her head and pulled a long braid of hair over her shoulder. Had to reach her hips, at least. Then, at last, she sat back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap. Still not at ease, but doing better.

“Tea,” Piper said, leaning around Ellie to hold a steaming mug out to Nora.

“Thank you,” she said again, a little less stiff than last time, accepting the mug.

“I dunno how strong you take it, so it’s pretty potent,” Piper said. “I figure you can water I down if it’s too much. Or—Ellie, do we have—”

“Cream and sweetener?” Ellie asked.

“No, thank you,” Nora said. She gestured to Piper with the mug. “This is perfect, actually.”

“Couldn’t be me,” Piper said. “I like a sweet drink.” She grabbed a cola from the minifridge and rolled up her sleeve to twist the cap off with her forearm. Then she flicked the cap with her thumb and Nick caught it with his good hand.

“You’ll rot your teeth right outta your head drinking that crap,” he told her. He swiveled his chair and dropped the cap in the rainy-day fund mason jar they kept on the bookshelf behind the desk.

“Hey, I brush,” Piper said, and smiled at him.

“Detective,” Nora said quietly.

Well, alright, then, she was done waiting. Nick caught Piper’s eye and gave her a significant look, and Piper nodded and turned to her little sister.

“Hey, Nat,” Piper said. “Why don’t you go hang out in the loft for a bit, maybe get some schoolwork done?”

“Why?” Nat asked suspiciously, dragging out the word.

“Because we’re about to have a long conversation, and I don’t want you to get bored.”

Nat stared at her. “Bullshit.”

“Natalie, language!” Piper barked, and Ellie turned away so the two sisters couldn’t see her stifle a snort.

“I’m almost thirteen! That’s old enough to sit in on cases!”

“It’s really not,” Piper said.

“You were only sixteen when you started the newspaper!”

“So you’ve still got four years to go, kiddo.”

“Piper!” Nat said pleadingly, and turned to Nick. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle this stuff if you guys would just let me.”

“Maybe next time, alright? Just not right now,” Nick said gently.

Nat scoffed and kicked her feet, and looked from Nick, to Ellie, to Nora, and finally back to her sister. Then she seemed to deflate.

“Fine, whatever. Can I at least sit out on the deck?”

“If you take the umbrella,” Piper said. “And come back inside if you see any angry politicians.”

Nat sighed loudly, but didn’t protest further as she slid off the desk and slouched out of the room, cola in hand and bag slung over her shoulder. She plucked her sister’s umbrella from her hand as she passed. There was a long moment of anticipatory stillness that stretched between the four of them that remained as her footsteps thumped up the stairs, across the loft above the desk, and as the door onto the deck opened and then closed again.

There was a beat of silence as Nora’s gaze traveled back to rest just shy of his. Waiting.

“Alright,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Her voice was flat. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Why not with who it is we’re looking for?”

Nora nodded, taking a deep breath. “My son. He’s four—” She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “No. Five weeks old, now.”

Jesus. Wasn’t the first missing kid he’d been asked to track down, though this one was on the younger side for sure. Typically, in the aftermath of a breakup, one parent decided any kids would be better off with them rather than their former partner—but sometimes it was something else. Raider ransom, or worse. He got the feeling this case wasn’t going to be typical.

“His name is Shaun.” Nora’s voice broke over the name, but she didn’t stop. “He’s—he’s got his dad’s blue eyes, and my freckles, and black hair, and skin a little lighter than mine. He…” She held up a hand, lips quivering, trying not to cry.

“It’s okay, honey,” Ellie said, gentle as always. “You don’t have to say anything more.”

Nora nodded once, exhaled shakily. Nick pulled a clean handkerchief out of the desk drawer and held it out to her.

She hesitated a little, but still took it. “Thank you,” she said, sounding sincere.

Nick nodded, and gave her a second to dab at her eyes.

“Now, I know this might seem like an impertinent question,” Nick said after a moment. “But it’s important to get a complete picture of what we’re dealing with, here.”

“I understand,” Nora said again.

“Is your boy’s father still in the picture, or is it just you?”

The tears that welled in her eyes were answer enough, but she blinked them away, or tried to, and dabbed again at her face when they ran down her cheeks. It looked like his earlier prediction was spot-on, unfortunately. Nora was alone.

“It’s—just me,” she ground out. “The—the people who took Shaun, they—they killed him.”

She couldn’t hold the tears back, then. She pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle a sob, and then covered her eyes with her hand. Bent forward to rest her elbow on her knees, cradling her head. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the bright blue fabric of her vault suit.

He shouldn’t feel envious of that, of crying. But he did.

Setting her notebook and pen down, Piper stepped forward, brow creased and lips downturned in concern, and reached out to lay a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “Hey, Blue…”

Nora nearly jumped out of the chair when Piper made contact, jerking away and sucking a breath through her teeth. Her eyes were wide, like a cornered animal.

Cringing, Piper yanked her hand back. “Sorry!”

“No, no—” Nora shook her head, holding her hands up placatingly. She was breathing hard. “I’m—I’m sorry, you just—you startled me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s fine.”

He understood Piper’s impulse. This was… difficult was too mild a word. This had never gotten easier to watch. This was a wound open and weeping along with her in the back of his own head. He wanted to reach across the desk and take her hand, to provide the anchor he would have liked himself, but that clearly wasn’t how she operated. That was fine.

“I’m so sorry,” Nick said softly. Nora nodded. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. But it was damn near all he had to offer. Sometimes there was no comfort and you just had to go through the motions.

“Where were you when this happened?” he asked, after Nora’s breathing had steadied somewhat.

She closed her eyes and twisted the handkerchief in her lap. “I was there. I…” She looked from Nick, to Piper, to Ellie, and back again. “This is going to sound unbelievable,” she said.

“Don’t worry. We’ve handled some pretty strange cases before,” he reassured. “Just tell us what details you remember.”

“We were in a vault when it happened,” she said. “It—was an experiment, I guess. The vault, I mean. It was some sort of… cryogenic facility.” She huffed. “The—we thought when we went in we’d be put into apartments or barracks or something, but—”

What?

“—they put us in these pods instead, and the doctor said it was some kind of decontamination before we moved into the living quarters, but then—”

“Wait,” Piper cut in, beating Nick to it. “What do you mean when you went in?”

Nora looked at her blankly, and suddenly everything clicked into place—the wedding band, the perfect teeth, the accent. A vault that was actually cryo storage. The bottom dropped out of Nick’s world and time slid to a stop—except it didn’t, according to his chronometer; the moments kept ticking by like they always had. It was just some strange trick of perception that made the second and a half following Piper’s question seem to last a lifetime.

Funny thing, that. You go your whole life thinking there’s no one else that can relate to your specific situation and then, with no warning at all, someone does, and she walks straight into your office and tells you about it.

“When the bombs fell,” Nora said flatly.

“She’s pre-War, Pipes,” Nick said.

Nora’s dark eyes flicked over, actually met his, briefly. “That’s right,” she whispered. “I—I know it sounds—insane, or—”

“It doesn’t,” Nick reassured. “No, it doesn’t. In fact, folks being around from before the War is a lot more common than you might think. You met any ghouls yet?”

She mouthed ghouls like she was trying to remember what it meant. “No. I mean—not the ones that are people,” she clarified. “The… other ones, yes. I came across the river from Cambridge to get here. The guard said they were bad up there.”

Piper whistled lowly, and Nick nodded. “Ferals. Yeah, they’re pretty thick the other side of the Charles. The uh, ghouls that are people, though, they stop aging once they change, so there are a few of ’em that were around before the War.”

“Really?”

“That’s right,” “So, this vault you were in—one-eleven?”

“Yes.”

“Has it been opened to the surface before?” Just because he hadn’t heard of it didn’t mean other folks hadn’t.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s it at?”

“The Concord suburbs,” she said. “Just north of the river. The Concord River, not the Charles. A place called Sanctuary Hills.”

“Concord’s quite a walk,” Nick said mildly. “You come all that way yourself?”

“I had Dogmeat,” she said. His ears perked up and his tail thumped against the ground at the sound of his name, and Nora absently stroked the top of his head. “And some other help besides.” Her jaw clenched. “It’s still taken a week to get here.”

“Hey, now, that’s no mean feat. The Commonwealth’s a dangerous place.”

“It used to be a thirty-minute drive.”

Nick blinked. “Alright, that’s fair. But still, don’t put yourself down.”

She ducked her head, pursing her lips tight. Bucking against it.

“Now, I know this will be painful,” he started, and she held very still, like a radstag in a spotlight. “But I’m gonna need you to share everything you can remember about that day. You take as much time as you need, alright? And just say so if you need a break.”

She nodded.

“So—you enter the vault, and what happened next?”

“We were told to get in line at the bottom of the elevator,” she said. “There were already workers in the vault, I suppose. They gave us these suits—” she gestured to herself, “—and told us to change. Dana was holding Shaun, so I changed first, and then held Shaun while Dana changed. That was the last time that I…”

She trailed off, staring into space, and tears rolled down her cheeks. No doubt she’d worked that one over in her head a dozen times by now. If he hadn’t taken the baby back, her husband would still be alive, but she might not be.

Nick took a stab at it. “You can’t blame yourself for something like that,” he said, gently as he could. “You had no way of knowing.”

“I’m his mother,” she snapped.

“And Dana was his father,” Nick countered. She clenched her jaw at that one. “Was there another reason you weren’t carrying him?”

Nora dried her face with Nick’s handkerchief, preparing herself. Off to his side, Ellie shifted her feet, and Piper’s pen scratched across her notebook.

“I had a c-section,” Nora said. She frowned slightly, eyes flicking across the three of them in turn. “Are…”

“Some doctors still do them,” Ellie said softly, and Nick nodded.

“Okay. I was told I couldn’t carry anything heavier than my baby for six weeks, but when the warning sirens started going off, we had to run, and so Dana—” She took another deep breath. “Dana insisted.”

“You’re still recovering, then?” Nick asked. That’d explain the wince when she took off her coat earlier.

Nora hesitated. “Yes.” 

“Jeez, Blue,” Piper muttered.

How much did that rifle weigh, compared to an infant? Maybe it was comparable; maybe she just didn’t care, and getting here to get help finding her baby was more important to her than her own health. He’d be willing to bet on that, actually. Maybe he could convince her to talk to Doc Sun, just to make sure she was really healing alright.

“So you change, Dana takes the baby, and then what?”

“Like I said earlier. The doctor told us we were going to go through a decontamination procedure before being brought deeper into the vault. He had us climb in these pods, and then it felt like the air was being sucked out—I could hardly breathe, and…

“It felt like…” She stared past him, into the middle distance, and then closed her eyes. “It was like when you’ve fallen asleep, but don’t realize it, and come back to consciousness all at once. Except instead of it being suddenly daytime, it was dark and cold, and I thought I was dreaming…”

Two hundred years in the blink of an eye. Damn. “What made you realize you weren’t?” Nick asked.

She swallowed thickly. “I heard voices. One was a man’s; it was deep, and rough. I couldn’t tell if the other was a man or a woman—I didn’t hear them at first. It was only once the man said something else I realized he must be speaking to someone.”

“What were they talking about?”

“I couldn’t tell. It was muffled. I tried to clear away the frost on the pod window so I could see them, but it was so thick, and my breath kept fogging it up. Then—”

She choked up suddenly, and pressed her fingertips to her lips to stifle a sob.

“Then I heard a baby cry, and Dana’s voice. I don’t—I don’t know what he said, either. But he sounded panicked.” She shuddered. “I started trying to get the door open, but there was no latch on the inside that I could find, so I rubbed the glass with my sleeve to see what was happening.

“It was dark, but I could see there was a man holding something up at Dana? I didn’t realize at first what it was, because the other person was trying to take Shaun, and Dana wouldn’t let them have him, and then there was a sound like another bomb going off and—

“I think I screamed. And the man turned and walked towards me, and I thought he was going to—” She gaped for a moment. “He leaned right up to the glass and looked at me. And then he said something, but I don’t know what. I still couldn’t hear him well, but when he started talking I tried to read his lips.”

She shook her head. “And then they just—walked away. Shaun was crying and Dana wasn’t moving and I kept trying to find the latch but—” She waved her hand, unable to speak, and Nick’s gaze fell again on her torn nails. She’d tried to claw her way out.

She sobbed again, but then held up a hand. Set her jaw. She was shoving it down.

“I’m s-sorry,” she started, and Nick shook his head.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he said. “Now, you said this man came right up to you—so did you get a good look at him?”

She nodded.

“That’s good,” Nick said encouragingly. “We’ll circle back to that in a minute. Now what about the other person?”

“No. They were wearing some kind of—it looked like a clean room suit. It was all white, and covered their face, I think. I didn’t see it, anyway. There was a tube running to something on their back.”

“And this is the person who took Shaun? Which way’d they go?”

“Back toward the elevator,” she whispered.

“Did you see anybody else?”

“No, only those two.”

“And after that?”

She stared past him. “I… don’t remember.” She swallowed. “I don’t know if I blacked out, or if the pod was reactivated. I was trying to get out, and then I was falling out.” She shrugged, but the line of her shoulders was tense, clearly ill at ease with the idea. “Then I left the vault and made my way here.”

She was leaving something out—someone must’ve pointed her this way, because no way was Fenway Park a pre-War person’s first destination after waking up after the apocalypse. His gut told him it wasn’t relevant, at least not now—she had said she’d had other help.

But her supposed blackout… that might complicate things. If the cryostasis had been reactivated, they’d have no way of verifying the timeline…

They needed to focus on what they could verify. “Alright.” Nick leaned forward in his seat. “Now, this man. You think you can describe him for me?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze and managed to hold it. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about his outfit? Was he in a suit, too?”

“No. He was dressed like a—raider?”

Nick nodded.

“Like a raider. At the time I thought he was dressed strangely, but now I think it was patchwork armor. I don’t know for sure.”

“That’s alright. Do you remember anything else about what he was wearing?”

“No, just that his clothes were dark.”

So—patchwork armor, possibly a raider, more likely a mercenary—maybe one of the Gunners? They didn’t work solo, but Nora might not have seen the whole team. Whether the vault was broken into or was already open to the surface would tip his opinion about it being one of the smaller gangs or not. He doubted it, but there was no way to know for sure.

There was still the question of the person in the environment suit, if that’s indeed what it was. Those were a valuable piece of tech, and hard to come by, especially if they were pre-War. He knew Becky Fallon made one, once, but she was a professional seamstress and the customer had paid an arm and a leg for it. How well it worked he didn’t know, but it still looked homemade—a far cry from the sterile white Nora described. Regardless, it was likely not something small-timers would have access to or the caps for.

“Now, how about his physical appearance?” Nick asked. “Skin, hair, approximate age, distinguishing features. That sorta thing?”

She twisted the handkerchief again, closing her eyes. “He was white, bald or balding, with a beard. I think he was middle aged—he looked like he was on the older side, anyway. Or like he’d been out in the sun a lot. He seemed weathered.”

“That’s a good start,” Nick said. He redirected a portion of his processing power to running through faces and descriptions they had on file—from cases closed and otherwise. Filtered out the little gangs, prioritized Gunners, independent mercs, and the big-time raider gangs. It wasn’t guaranteed that he’d come up with anything, but he liked to think he was on top of the names and news going around the Commonwealth. If he didn’t come up with anything, he’d change his focus—at that point, anything would be worth a shot. And he’d been wrong before.

“Now, distinguishing features? Anything stand out about his appearance?”

Nora frowned. “He had a… slash across his face. This side.” She pointed to her forehead, just above her left brow, and drew a line down over her eye and cheek, stopping beside the corner of her mouth. “I remember because it was still stitched up.”

Now that was a solid detail. A wound like that was noticeable, and would almost certainly leave a prominent, depending on how long it’d been. Nick added that criteria to his search, and—

—got a hit almost immediately.

Nick held up his good hand. “Hold on a minute. Would you recognize this fella if you saw him again?”

Nora took a breath, and then nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ellie,” he said, turning to look up at her. “What have we got on Conrad Kellogg?”

She turned on her heel toward the many boxes of documents stacked in the corner of the room. “Let me find the file.”

Nora sat forward, frowning. “Who’s Conrad Kellogg?”

“Local mercenary,” Piper said, clicking her pen. “Real scary guy.”

Nick turned to Nora. “Now, let me be clear: I don’t know if this is your man, so let’s not make any assumptions. But Piper got a pretty good look at him, and an alright photo, so we’ll have you look at that and see if you recognize him, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Now, to answer your question—this fella’s a merc, and allegedly a damn good one, or at least a well-supplied one. Swept into town a couple months ago, started throwing money around—chems, weapons, real estate, you name it. But nobody knows who he works for; just that he just disappears for days at a time. Nobody in Diamond City has the sorta caps that he does, except the upper stands folks, and last I checked, my contact there said he’d never seen the guy before.”

“Found it,” Ellie said, and reappeared at Nick’s shoulder holding a stack of documents held together by a paperclip. On the top of the stack, there was a photo—taken from below and to the left, pointed upwards at a man leaning against a balcony railing and smoking a cigar. The angle wasn’t ideal for identification, but it did show one thing very clearly: a scar, running from above the man’s left brow and down over his cheek.

“Take a look at this,” Nick said, sliding the photo out from beneath the paperclip and passing it across the desk to Nora. She took it, frowning deeply.

She stared at the photograph for a long moment, holding it with both hands.

She looked for a long time. The air in the office seemed to still, as Nick, Ellie, and Piper watched Nora, waiting. Her hands trembled, making the photograph quiver.

“What sort of person would do this?” she whispered. “And—why?”

Wasn’t that always the question? “Don’t think that’s something we can know, at least not yet,” Nick said gently. “Not until we find who we’re looking for.”

“This is him.” She looked up at him sharply. Her teary eyes were narrowed in determination. “I’m sure of it.”

“Easy,” Nick said. “He’s not the only one I want you to have a look at, alright?” His internal search hadn’t pinged anyone else yet, but jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help.

Nora set her jaw, unhappy but hopefully willing to cooperate. She didn’t protest, at least.

Nick flicked through the stack of papers, didn’t find what he was searching for, and looked up at Piper. “Didja get anything on the kid while I was gone?”

In the corner of his vision, Nora sat forward. “What kid?”

“Hold on a minute,” Nick said.

Piper and Ellie glanced at each other, which answered his question well enough.

“Nick, we dropped it. We’ve been looking for you,” Piper said.

Right, of course. He nodded, worked his jaw. Right now wasn’t the time to deal with whatever it was that made him feel; he pushed it back and focused on the matter at hand. He’d smoke it off later. “Alright. How long since we’ve had eyes on him?”

Piper counted on her fingers. “Nine days, I think?” She looked to Ellie for confirmation; Ellie nodded.

“We don’t have anything new, Nick,” she said.

“Wait. Why are you investigating this man in the first place?” Nora asked. “And what was that back at the gate about a rash of kidnappings the mayor won’t let anyone investigate? Are they related? And what kid?”

All good questions. Alright. “Well, that’s sorta what we’re trying to find out,” Nick said, leaning back in his chair. “You wanna take this one, Pipes?”

Piper clicked her pen and cocked her hip, fixing Nora with a serious look. All professional reporter again. “Have you ever heard of an organization called the Institute?”

Nora’s hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second—but that was enough.

“No,” she said.

Boy, did she have one hell of a poker face. Not a single tell but the hesitation, at least not that he caught. Piper launched into her “boogeymen of the Commonwealth” spiel and Nick turned it over in his head. So: sometime in the last week she’d had a run-in with the Institute, or, more likely, someone who knew about them and told her. Doubtful she’d still be alive if she’d encountered one of their scavenger teams. Not many folks could say they walked away from that.

She said she’d crossed the river at Cambridge… and she was toting that fancy laser rifle. It wasn’t the sleek red and white of Institute firearms; maybe she’d ran into that Brotherhood of Steel squad that holed up in the police station. She had said she’d had other help besides the dog.

He’d been avoiding the area—and the soldiers themselves, whenever they came into town to resupply. In an ideal world he’d have more than secondhand knowledge about what they were up to in the Commonwealth, but it wasn’t like he could stroll up and ask. He could only imagine what their precious Codex said about synths, especially since the alleged reason they’d rolled into town was to search out the Institute.

Could only imagine what they’d told her about synths, but at least she hadn’t called him any names yet. Still—there was a difference between being polite because you were a polite person and not being overtly hostile because the synth was the only one who could help you and you didn’t want to piss it off. He was either a good detective and folks pretended they didn’t notice the synth bit or he was a crime against nature and needed to be put down. God forbid he be just some guy.

Here was the most important question, though: why would she lie about it?

He could think of at least one very good reason, and it was sitting across the desk from her.

Didn’t matter right now, anyway, on any count. He and Piper’d figure it all out eventually, one way or another. So she didn’t trust him; he couldn’t exactly blame her for it. She still needed help.

“You think Kellogg works for them,” Nora was saying.

Piper made a finger gun at her. “Bingo.”

“Where does the kid come in?”

“A little less than three weeks ago now, Kellogg shows back up for the first time in weeks with a little boy in tow,” Nick started. “Not an infant,” he added before Nora could start to look hopeful. “Kid looked to be Nat’s age.”

“What’s unusual about that?” Nora asked.

“To be fair, not much,” Nick said, shrugging. “Could be he’s just settling into town with his son.”

“What was unusual is how secluded he kept the kid,” Piper said. “I asked Nat; he never showed up in class, always got hustled around by Kellogg when he was out and about, which wasn’t often. We were already looking into Kellogg; might as well look into the kid too, just in case it was something else.”

“We’re not sure if they’re still in town or not,” Ellie added, tapping Nick’s shoulder. “Like we said, we stopped surveillance when you went missing.”

“What did he look like?” Nora asked.

“Uh, dark skin, dark hair,” Piper said. “That’s all we got. I don’t think any of us saw him up close.”

“Huh. Do you know anybody who did?” Nora asked absently. She was staring into the middle distance again, and she had one hand twisted in the end of that long braid of hers. Nick could practically see the gears turning in her mind.

Before he could ask what she was thinking, something thumped against the ceiling above Nick’s desk. A moment later, the floorboards creaked, and then slow footsteps plodded down the stairs. Nat pushed the curtain aside to see all four adults staring at her as she stepped back into the office, and, true to form, she didn’t look intimidated in the slightest. No wonder Piper was worried about her following in her sister’s footsteps.

“Natalie,” Piper sighed. “You haven’t been on the deck at all, have you?”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” Nat shot back.

Piper scowled. 

“Good thing I wasn’t, too.” Nat looked at Nick. “I talked to that kid. I can describe him.”

“No kidding,” Nick said.

“Nuh-uh. It was just the once but I remember it ’cause it was weird. The press jammed that morning and Piper had just fixed it so I went to pick up noodles to celebrate, and he was leaned over the bar trying to have a conversation with Takahashi.” She looked at Nora. “Newbie mistake. And he didn’t know how to use chopsticks. Obviously he hadn’t been in Diamond City very long.”

Nat shrugged. “So I asked him where he came from and he got really weird and said mister somebody told him not to talk to strangers. So I said Takahashi was a stranger and he said robots didn’t count, and anyway Tak wouldn’t talk to him except for saying what he always says. So I asked why I’d never seen him at school before and he said he didn’t go to school in Diamond City, but when I asked where he went he got really weird again and said he wasn’t allowed to say, and I said that sounded like bullcrap, and then that scary guy showed up out of nowhere and led him off towards the west stands.”

“What did he look like, Nat?” Nick asked patiently.

“Like her,” Nat said, pointing to Nora. “Like a little kid version, with the same nose and freckles and everything. But with blue eyes. And a boy.”

“How little?”

“I dunno, like, ten?” She shrugged again. “He was shorter than me, anyway.”

“That was him,” Nora said, sounding distant.

“Hold on a minute,” Nick started.

Nora whipped to face him, making full eye contact this time, shoulders tense, leaning forward in her seat. “Cryostasis—”

“Whoa,” Nick said, holding up a placating hand. “Now, let’s not—”

“I don’t know how long I was asleep the second time,” she insisted. “I don’t even know how or why I woke up at all! It could have been ten minutes; it could have been ten years. The amount of time that already passed, I—” Her eyes welled again. “Please,” she said. “Can we just—follow up on this? Just to be sure?”

Desperation colored her tone, made her voice crack, and the way she looked at him was—

Hell, how could he say no?

“We will,” he said, hopefully sounding reassuring. “We will, I promise. Okay?”

She stared at him, and if he hadn’t been watching for it, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the twitch in her lower eyelids. She didn’t believe him.

“Okay,” she said anyway.

“Okay,” Nick repeated. “Got another question for ya. Do you know if we’d be able to get back into the vault? It might do us good to have a look around, and the computer system may have dated logs that we can use to find out how long you were out for.”

Nora somehow tensed further. “I didn’t—fuck,” she said vehemently. “I should have thought of that.”

“You were dealing with a lot.”

“That’s not a fucking excuse,” she snapped, and then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified. “God, I’m sorry,” she said into the ensuing silence. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

Nick empathized, but let her sit with it for a moment anyway. Then he said, “You’re still dealing with a lot.”

Whatever retort she had for that—and she had one, judging by the way her jaw clenched again—she didn’t voice. She looked down at her hands in her lap, twisted the ring on her finger, inhaled and exhaled. “Right,” she muttered.

“So—the vault?”

“Right,” she repeated. “I think I could get back in with my Pip-Boy,” she said, holding up her left arm and her vaultie-standard portable computer. “I don’t know for sure.” She took a deep breath. “Obviously there’s some way in, right?”

“That’s the way to think about it,” Nick said, nodding. “So—here’s how I think we should go about this. We start by checking out Kellogg, and any other folks who match your description. If that doesn’t turn anything up, we can head up to Concord and check out the vault. How does that sound?”

Nora nodded.

“Alright.” They needed to wrap this up. Nora was clearly in no state to continue, even though she seemed to be chomping at the bit to get going. Whether it was stress, or the late hour, or exhaustion, or something else, target fixation and beating herself up wouldn’t help them in the slightest. She’d have a clearer head in the morning.

“I think it’s about time we called it a night,” Nick said. “We can pick this up again in the morning, if that’s alright with you.”

Nora looked up at him sharply. “Morning?”

“I’d like a little time to go through our other files, see if we have anyone else who fits your guy’s description. Like I said earlier—I can’t say for sure that Kellogg is the man we’re looking for, just that he fits the bill.” Nick softened his tone. “So, yeah, morning. The gate’ll be down by now, so nobody’s getting in the city, and we can get an early start tomorrow, be up before it opens, if you like, to make sure Kellogg doesn’t leave if he’s here. That sound good?”

Nora hesitated. Obviously, it didn’t sound good. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Nick said. He’d have to keep an eye out tonight in case she decided to take matters into her own hands. If everything else she’d gone through hadn’t slowed her down, he doubted his reassurance would. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at Piper. “Would you mind walking her to the Dugout on your way home? Tell Vadim she’s on my tab.”

“Sure thing, Nicky.”

“Seven work for you?” he asked Nora. “’Bout a half-hour before the sun’s up.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” she said. “Detective, about payment—”

Nick waved her off before she could get started. “We can talk about that when we find your boy,” he said.

She stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “I don’t take any fees until after a job’s done, and I haven’t even started working. For now, let’s focus on finding out what we can. Alright?”

She hesitated, then nodded quickly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Piper ruffled her sister’s hair affectionately. “C’mon, Gnat, let’s get hit the road.” She gave him a little two-fingered salute over Nora’s head. “See ya in the morning, Nicky, Ellie. C’mon, Blue, what’re you waiting for?” Then she was out the door.

Nora stood up suddenly, and ducked her head. “Thank you both again,” she said quietly, and followed Piper.

Nat was the last to leave, sliding off Ellie’s desk and dragging her feet, and then, when the door was swinging shut behind Nora, she turned a sharp one-eighty and launched herself toward Nick, giving him only a second to prepare himself before she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his coat.

Nick hugged her back, patting her between the shoulder blades, and shook his head at Ellie as she mouthed “Aww.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Nat muttered into his shoulder.

“Me too.”

She pulled back and pointed at him—a Piper move. “Stay out of trouble,” she said sternly.

Nick smiled. “You too, kiddo.”

With that, she left, too, sprinting out the door to catch up with her sister.

The office was felt larger than it was with just the two of them that were left. He’d only gotten back a little while ago, but somehow, it felt like he’d never left. It coulda been any other night after seeing off a client; Ellie’d work quietly for a little while yet before heading to bed, and Nick would be burning the candle at both ends, just like always.

Ellie smiled ruefully. “It just never stops, does it?”

“Sure doesn’t,” he agreed.

She sighed heavily, and leaned up against the desk. “How did your other case shake out?” she asked. “Or is that a silly question, considering I haven’t seen you in two weeks?”

“It went better than you’d expect,” he said. “Turns out, our runaway wasn’t an unwilling participant after all.” Nick shrugged. “Decided she’d have a better life as some gang boss’ gun moll than doing whatever daddy had planned for his little girl here in DC.”

Ellie blew out a sigh. “And she decided to abide by that decision…?”

“Eh, not exactly. Shoulda seen Piper. Two minutes and she had the gal convinced her new beau was all talk and no action. Made the poor fella cry when she walked out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Ah, well, it was Skinny Malone, if you can believe that, and he’s a soft touch. That’s why I’m still kicking; he got all sentimental about the old times and threw me in an office instead of just shooting me. Guess the guy’s only real friends are his enemies.” He rubbed the back of his head. “The dame sure wasn’t, though. Got me good with a swatter. A couple of times.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose between her index fingers. “You are unreasonably lucky sometimes, you know that?”

“Hey now, I like to think some of it’s just good old-fashioned charm.”

“If you keep laughing at death, one day death’s gonna laugh back,” she countered. “God, Nick, you need someone to watch your back. What if Piper hadn’t been able to track you down?”

“I’da figured something out.” He would have; in another day or two he was sure he coulda convinced some of Malone’s boys to turn on their boss.

“You need a new partner,” Ellie said firmly. “And not another Marty; someone reliable.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “You find me one of those, you let me know.”

Ellie pursed her lips. “Believe me, I will.” She sighed heavily. “But—not tonight. I am cried out and exhausted, and I am going to bed.” She stepped forward, into his space, and then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Nick.”

Nick smiled after her. “Night, El.”

She was right, of course. She usually was. But it wasn’t something he had time to worry about. They had a case to solve. He needed to review the Kellogg file, and dig through others for anything similar to Nora’s missing kid—while he had the time.

Nick sat back in his chair, fished his half-smoked cigarette out of his coat pocket, and lit it again, watching the smoke curl upwards toward the rafters. Rain drummed distantly against the roof. The neon sign outside hummed. Up above him, Ellie breathed softly.

He’d give it until the rain stopped, if that long. The night wasn’t over yet.

#my beta can't stop me from posting this because she's not here #will be up on ao3 once we're finished with the rest of the chapter #nick valentine #fallout 4 #piper wright #sole survivor #nick x sole #fallout fic #fallout oc

[rileywritesnovellas]

On top of my 50k word romance novella on Amazon, Sword Fighting in the Garden, I have several fan-fics published on AO3 as well. Almost all of these are Fantasy High fics written before the recent premiere of Junior Year, and the rest are Star Ocean the Divine Force fics. I figured a post to share all of them could be fun, though I will separate them into categories so you can browse more easily.

I have not watched any of FHJY yet, and anything in here that is a spoiler was not made with malice or the intent to spoil, but rather a blind coincidence

Category One: Slice of Life Fantasy High Fics

The Making of Adaine O'Shaughnessy: A slice of life fic showing Adaine contemplating a name change to better fit who her real guardian is!

What it's Like to Trance: An examination of Figs life growing up, my head cannon for how Trancing works in the FH universe, and some sweet moments between Fig & Gilear and Fig & Ayda

Random Encounters Volume 1: a collection of 300+ word short ficlets that I couldn't get over 1k. This one includes Fig Driving Safe, Riz learning to sword fight, a sisterly moment, and a look at Gorgug making things.

Spell Bound: a fic about Fig doodling after finding a page in Ayda's spell book set aside for doodles of Fig.

Random Encounters Volume 2: another collection of those short stories, this one includes Gorgug calming his gf down, an examination of Kristin's love for Tye Dye, the wizard girls sharing a moment, and Fabian spending quality time with his bike.

In Concert: Fig and Ayda steal a moment after The Cig Figs perform, and Fig recognizes the stability Ayda brings to her life

Random Encounters Volume 3: this one features A look at what makes Riz tick, a sequel to 'In Concert' following Gorgug and Zelda, Aelwyn getting some new clothes, and Jawbone having a long night

A Very Long Night (Extended): Jawbone spends some time pondering his two not-quite-daughters and how he came across them, an extension of the fourth story in REV3

Trio of Transitively Best Friends: Adaine finds herself as the go to girl for both of her two best friends in the world, Ayda & Fig, as they start dating.

Becoming Sisters Again: Adaine and Aelwyn share some vulnerable moments as they relive a brief and almost forgotten moment of bonding from their past.

Random Encounters Volume 4: this one includes Fig and Jawbone deciding he isn't dad number 3 for her, Boggy spotting an intruder, Riz telling his dad about the little things, and Ayda seeking immortality

Flying Away: Fig mentions marriage and Ayda has too many feelings about that, so she flies away only to get stuck in a rainstorm.

Pockets: Ayda decides to accessorize to make her flying dates with Fig a little easier.

The Smell of Fire in the Morning: Fig and Ayda are separated for a period of time, leaving Fig missing the small things about her

Overthinking It: Ayda is worried that Fig will get bored, so asks Adaine for some advice.

Movie Night: Fig has Ayda over for a sleep over

Category Two: The B.A.D. Kids, A Fantasy High Spy AU

Quick note for my convenience, this category will be in Chronological Order of events, because that's the order they are in the series on AO3.

The Abernant Sisters have a B.A.D. Time: After realizing her father is going to do something horrible to her little sister, the two run away together to Solace, where they join the Bureau of Advanced Detectives to hide from their powerful family.

Enter The B.A.D. Kids: Fig is recruited into the Bureau of Advanced Detectives, and is assigned to a team of spies, analysts, and soldiers who are all working on one goal, dismantling a covert criminal organization seemingly founded by Kalima, a former B.A.D. Agent.

Silent Strikes, Born of Shadows: A Kalina POV one shot following her setting a trap for the B.A.D. Agents on her tail.

The Analysts: Adaine and Ayda discuss their lives as they take a short break from work.

In B.A.D. Taste: With Fig sidelined, Fabian is put in the hot seat to track down notorious criminal mastermind Kalina as she flies the country and sets sail for Leviathan

B.A.D. Luck: a WIP follow up to 'In B.A.D. Taste' following Ragh as the battle against this shadowy criminal cabal becomes less about subtle machinations and more about open conflict.

Category Three: Star Ocean Fics

Another Author's note here, I understand most of you are here for Fantasy High stuff, but please check this fic out. If you like women who like women, you might like this!

I'll also only list one fic despite writing several. Why? Because the one fic is actually a remastering of the others, where each fic is a chapter, and each one was fixed up and edited for a better reading experience.

The Princess and Her Doctor (Remastered Collection): Follow the on going adventure of Princess Laeticia Aucerius and her doctor Nina Deforges after the events of Star Ocean: The Divine Force. The two developed a close relationship over the course of the game, and it only continues to grow more romantic as the two travel together to spread the cure for Helgar's Disease

#my writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #fantasy high #fantasy high freshman year #fantasy high sophomore year #star ocean #star ocean the divine force #fantasy #scifi #gay #lgbtq writing #Laeticia Aucerius #Nina Deforges #fig faeth #ayda aguefort

[hel-phoenyx]

Nicomaque belongs to @soupedepates !

I hate you. You're everything I resent and more. I understand you more that I understand myself. I find all pleasure in tormenting you. Everything you say irks me. I find you pathetic. I see myself in you. We couldn't be anymore different. Your words are coated in honey and the taste sickens me. Every tactic you use is one I tried. I see through you. You witnessed me at my worst. You are the only one that pushed me over the edge of suicide since that day. I don't think I was ever more worried than at the time I saw you on that roof and I was the only one that was willing to retrieve you. I wanted to push you off. I fantasize about pushing you off. You're the only one who saw me blackout drunk. I tell you about my suicidal ideations. You tell me about the emptiness in your head. We once kissed while sharing a cig and that was one of my most erotic experiences. The kinship we feel is unique. I almost killed you more than once. I try to kill you everyday. I know your body by heart and could recognise your moans anywhere. Everytime we talk about something a little opinionated it ends up in a heated debate. You bring out the worst in me. I corrupt you. We lived both similar and very different lives. Sometimes I go to your home just for the pleasure of making your live better, not as an empathetic way but as a mean of feeling superior. You disgust me. Every time I see you I don't know if I want to fuck you or to destroy you. I can do both. I have done both. You won't ever see me fully vulnerable. You have seen me at my weakest. I had to pick you up more than once. I was the only one you talked regularly with for a full year. I met your family. You send mine on my back. I hate you. You bring out my most twisted desires. I want to stab a knife in your back with one hand while the other bring you to seventh heaven. What I feel is undescribable. The taste of your blood in my mouth is addictive. I can't let other people see what I show you. My therapist is worried about my relation to you. I am worried about what you make me be. I want to see you dead. I can't imagine what I'll be when you die. I don't want you to die. I don't want to see you recover. Witnessing your downfall is sickening. When you went at rock bottom I both pushed you deeper and handed you a shovel. I don't get what we are. We had a kind of fun I can't ever reproduce. Everytime I see you I worry about my no-smoking streak. You stopped me from hurting myself. We discuss of things I can't talk with anyone else until ungodly hours. I joke about my trauma with you in unique ways. You are unique. You cried on me about your ex and I trashed mine. Your cousin is seeking me when you're feeling bad. I relay every gossip about you but keep your darkest secrets hidden deep in my mind. Your enemies come to me for maximum damage. No one knows if I'm your best friend or your greatest enemy. Sometimes I'm on one side, sometimes on the other.

#hel is talking #la peste moderne #hel ocs #lpm #hel writing #this is about #you'll never guess #Emerens's relationship to Nicomaque dearest #these two share something #that is #certainly something

[doomednarrative]

wait i am interested in hearing your thoughts on adam and hoffman's dynamic in jigsquad verse. mainly because the concept of hoffman not wanting him around to slowly becoming protective of that drowned little rat in his own...hoffman way...is oddly endearing to me

OKAY I'm home finally and I have food, let's get into this :D

(Bear in mind that I'm like. Still kinda fleshing out my ideas on Jigsquad stuff and it's also 8am so if this is a little incoherent that's probably why)

Anywho~

In my mind, neither of them care for each other at first. I do love the idea you had about the first time Adam meets Hoffman is while he's watching over Adam in their little makeshift hospital room in the lair, and Immediately he gets the "this guy is fuckin weird" vibes. Hoffman’s sitting in a chair off to the side eating cold Chinese leftovers from dinner with Amanda the night before and when Adam wakes up he does not say anything, he just walks out to go get Lawrence even as Adam’s yelling frantic questions at him. Eventually Lawrence gets there and they talk for a bit, and then Adam asks about Hoffman at some point and it’s just like “Who was that other guy?” “Hoffman. He’s another one of John’s disciples.” “Okay…is he always that weird?” “Unfortunately.” Adam of course learns sometime later that Hoffman’s a cop and his innate distrust/disrespect of authority makes him uneasy of the guy and he’s just like “Alright I’m not going to spend time around him if I can help it.” Hoffman’s pretty much on the same page of not giving a shit about Adam because he knows he’s only really here because of Lawrence and so he doesn’t feel the need to expend energy into having any kind of relationship with him like he does with the others since Adam’s not as in on the work as they are. (And of course because he’s not really a sibling stand-in like Amanda is to him. Yet.) 

At some point I think it just kinda happens that Adam’s out for a smoke break at some point (because you cannot tell me he quit/didn’t pick up the habit post bathroom even if he should be “valuing life” more considering the amount of trauma that shit gave him) and Hoffman just kinda. Quietly joins him. Adam’s playing his music (Nine Inch Nails) and just chilling outside hoping to unwind for a bit because being around the trap building for too long makes him uneasy and so he definitely wasn’t expecting company, but he doesn’t tell Hoffman to leave either since he’s not really being disruptful. After sometime Hoffman asks if he can borrow a smoke, and Adam almost says no, but he decides why not, it can't hurt, and hands him a cig and his lighter. And so they just…chill outside for a bit. Hoffman doesn’t comment on the music, and neither of them really talk, but it’s a thing that happens. 

It kinda Keeps Happening after awhile. Sometimes Amanda joins them, sometimes it’s just the two of them, and sometimes Hoffman doesn’t show up if it’s a busy enough day, but it kinda becomes routine and it’s one of those few times they’ll willingly be in each other's space outside of any shared work they might have. Neither of them admit it but it’s nice to share space outside of the lair and breathe in actual air for once. 

This is. A personal headcanon that I haven’t discussed anywhere else that I absolutely do love, but I think that at some point, based on that one little scene from V, Hoffman picked up on building little dioramas of the bigger traps and stuff from John. His are a bit more crude, and he doesn’t have the best coordination thanks to having larger hands, but it’s still a little creative “hobby” he picked up on with everything else. One time when he’s working on the latest one, Adam actually happens to catch him doing it, and he stops for a bit to watch from behind, not saying a word. Its..kinda surprising to see Hoffman do something so delicate, and Adam can’t deny he’s kinda intrigued by it. Hoffman catches him staring eventually, and he gives him a look like he’s waiting for Adam to mock him (because Amanda absolutely has before.) But Adam doesn’t, and instead just pulls up a chair to watch, and maybe ask a question or two while he does. And it’s kind of eye opening for both of them because huh, maybe they’re both the more “artistic” ones of the group, which neither expected. 

This also eventually leads to Adam showing Hoffman into the makeshift darkroom in whatever space John gave him in the lair to use, and Hoffman being confused by the process but none the less equally intrigued by the fact that this scrawny guy knows so much about camera work, enough to actually provide some use to their games at times as well. Adam’s the kind to just ramble about his process to anyone who asks with enough enthusiasm and so he’s not opposed to walking Hoffman thru it, with the stipulation that he not touch anything in the darkroom because “if you fuck up my chemicals I Will make you pay for it out of pocket and that’s a threat.”

(Hoffman only breaks this rule one time. Adam has a habit of taking candids when no ones looking, and he managed to get one of everyone together (not including John) at one point, and Hoffman found it while it was finishing developing. He took it for himself, and he does keep it in his wallet. It’s not even that good of a photo compared to Adam’s other work, but it still means something to have it. Adam never figures out it was him, but even if he did he wouldn’t ask for it back.)

I have. Thoughts. About how Adam is with names and the people around him. (Namely stems from the fact that he’s the Only one to call Lawrence by his actual name in the first movie, while everyone else calls him Larry or Doctor Gordon.) With everyone else in the Jigsquad he’s got his own names for them. John is Kramer, Lawrence is Lawrence of course, and Amanda is Mandy still to him because that’s how they were introduced and he still thinks it's a good name for her (maybe even..a very rockstar name :) And Hoffman is Mark to him, which starts off as an insult because he refuses to use his Detective title like Amanda will to jab at him, so he just settles on using his first name. And this Is an annoyance at first to Hoffman, because obviously Adam’s purposefully trying to be a little shit about it. But then, it dawns on him at some point that  Adam is…the only one besides John to actually use his first name. Even the guys at the station don’t do that. He’s still just Hoffman to them, even the one’s he’d consider “friends” of his. And so over time it goes from being an annoyance to something he’s actually kind of fond of, even if he’ll never say it. (Eventually he also shifts from calling Adam by his last name to his first as well. Neither of them ever comment on it of course, but Adam does make a note of it being a thing that happens.) 

Over time things just kinda shift between the two of them from “We both disrespect each other actively because of our complete difference in ideology and ways of leading life” into “I still wouldn’t Actively chose to keep you around if I didn’t have to, but we’re in this together and despite the oddities, we Do sorta care about each other after all we’ve been through.” A lot of things go unspoken, and if they ever Are spoken aloud it’s with the assumption that neither will comment too much on what the other said or make it too weird. Adam will sometimes, when John’s not around and/or after his death, point out that some shit he did/said to Hoffman was kinda fucked up, and Hoffman will just kinda noncommittally grunt about it, but in the back of his mind he’s tucked those comments away to ruminate on later. One time after a particularly heated fight between John and Adam one day over god knows what, Adam returned to his darkroom only to find a tiny little clay figure of himself sitting next to his camera. He doesn’t have to ask where it’s from, and he never says thank you for it, but he does make sure to sit it somewhere that it won’t get broken or have chemicals spilled on it. And it’s little things like that that kinda cement their place in each other’s space as part of this weird little fucked up murder family~ 

#This fucked me up so much to actually write it all out I Am going to think about them for the rest of the day actually #thank you for indulging me tibby~ #saw #adam faulkner stanheight #mark hoffman #jigsquad #kief rambles about saw #ask #answered #long post

[pennylanefics]

I want to sit out on the stoop with jake and smoke cigs with a few beers and talk about life

as someone who doesn’t smoke or drink, i cannot continue on that, but i definitely agree on just sitting out on the back deck and just talking about anything and everything. sitting in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as you discuss where you see yourself in x amount of years, what you fear the most, sharing deep secrets with one another, shedding some tears here and there due to it being so late at night

#5k sleepover

[notwxrriors]

hear me out just. just hear me out for a sec. ik it's never been discussed but jawn just gives off an Energy of a god-fearing kid growing up in a religious town and so . what if he has to be drinking to be with geoff. like they've never done anything sober. which sounds (and Is) unhealthy but geoff helps him work thru it. and geoff is nervous bc. yk. when the party ends will you still love who i am? but jawn does Really Really like geoff

oh trust me I am def hearing u out

jawns like. mostly a good boy excerpt for the cigarettes but his family def does not know ab all that. he spends most of his time w awsten, who his parents approve of, and otto, who they like less but don't tell him he can't b around

and then geoff joins their group and starts hanging out w them all, and jawn likes geoff a lot bc geoff is like actually cool, not just some nerd like the three of them, pretending to be cool. geoff was serious ab his guitar playing and he was like genuinely talented and knew what he was doing and gave a shit ab the band

geoff seemed to like being around jawn too, and he'd bum cigs off him sometimes and they'd smoke outside together. geoffs the first person jawns ever met that smoked weed, so in return for cigarettes, sometimes geoff would roll him a joint, and jawn feels so special bc of it

weed makes jawn feel less anxious around geoff bc when he's sober all he can think ab is how his feelings for geoff r definitely strange and Not Okay. geoff's been in love w him like the whole time but he hasn't said anything bc he doesn't want to scare him away

the first night that drink together, jawns such a lightweight compared to geoff so he def gets sloppy off one (1) beer and they share a first kiss that jawn initiates but geoff cuts short bc he feels weird ab it w their levelsof sobriety. jawn doesn't rly remember it the next day and he's appalled when geoff brings it up and apologizes a ton

but it does start this rly bad cycle for awhile where they'd get intoxicated together and then be intimate, like kissing to making out to handjobs or mutual masturbation. jawns tolerance increases so he does typically have a fuzzy memory of it at that point. he feels gross and wrong and sinful for it, but nothing feels as good as sitting in geoffs lap and shotgunning a joint. geoffs stopped bringing it up bc jawn just shuts down when he tries but he doesn't love the situation. he just wants to love jawn all the time :(

as they get older tho jawn does have some moment of deconstruction, and w geoff's help, they're able to have all new (sober) firsts :)🥰

#first: the song star tripping by kevin Atwater is so this prompt #also this reminds me of that old ask ab baby jawff where jawn wears one of geoffs sweatshirts home one night but has to sneak it to #his room bc it smells like weed and cigs and he only wears it to sleep in :'( #jg

[sebsxphia]

do we think the squadron would smoke? i feel like mav would be in some heated discussion with them all, talking abt one of the worst & most intense missions he’s ever gone on & jake would just casually pull out a blue raspberry elf bar & hit it😭 i also feel like bradley & payback smoke cigs while they’re drinking sometimes

DEAR ANON YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IM CRYING AT THE NOTION OF HANGMAN HITTING A BLUE RASPBERRY ELF BAR AJEKWKAJSAK

like just in the hanger??? mavs yelling at him and jake just pulls it from his top pocket puffing away on it 😭😭😭

absolute girl boss move

but yes absolutely i think you’re right! they’d be social smokers once they’ve had a couple of drinks, bradley and payback sharing a pack at a bar on a saturday night in the summer.

i don’t think any of them would smoke regularly because i imagine you have to be at your optimum health all the time. but if they’re having a stag do, i think they’d all have a cigar, even bob!

thank you so much for this dear anon!! 💌 this gave me such a good laugh and an interesting thought!!! 💖💘

#💌you’ve got mail #top gun maverick

[muttyum-archived]

cw for discussion of fetishes of pedophilia, incest, etc etc. i wont go in depth but these topics are brought up. all for RACK, for what its worth

nuance. it needs nuance. it should not be a subject completely shunned but to wholly accept it, to let it perpetuate and be freely accessible is to invite harm amongst others. when you make a post describing how callouts and that kind of social rejection is a brute force tool at the best of times, you are correct, but you have to also recognize that openly sharing and creating content that can be used to harm others is something that you probably shouldnt do.

this post is about the loli shit infesting this website. its about the blogs dedicated to creating and spreading incest content, bestiality, whatever other "taboo" fetish, you name it. i could not care less what someone indulges themself to in private, but tumblr blogs, twitter accounts, things posted openly on the internet? thats not private. especially when these posts have hundreds, if not thousands of notes. thats definitely not private.

im saying this as someone who was harmed by this kind of thing, who opened myself up much earlier than i should have to adults who should have known better. im saying this as someone who regularly recedes into mindsets that arent entirely healthy. im saying this as someone who, if not for a massive dose of luck, would have been permanently labeled a sex predator for things i was pressured into doing as a 15 year old.

whatever you do in private, sure, fine, whatever, i dont care. i have my own skeletons. im sure we might even have "common interests" if you could call it that. but dont reblog, spread, share, or god forbid create and publicly post the same kind of content that was used as leverage against me all those years ago. in a perfect world, this kind of stuff would just not be posted. but its not a perfect world, and a lot of this stuff is posted regardless, and i know the kinds of people who post this kind of stuff dont do it with respect or with any kind of empathy. ive seen it, and ive felt it.

if you consume this kind of stuff, again, i have to stress - Whatever. i dont care. i know people cope with trauma in all sorts of different ways and im not about to armchair my way into your brain. ive stopped caring about call outs. i think theyre shitty and generally cause more harm than good. i still have people i have personal gripes with. counting myself lucky i never dmed <x> mutual who happened to get big and then got found out for her own skeletons. regretting i met this and that person. whatever.

and before you respond to this with "why dont you focus on the REAL predators who are hurting REAL children" i want you to understand that 1) i can push for greater change and also work towards smaller scale change and 2) do you litter and toss cigs and empty cans out on the highway just because the largest amount of ecological destruction is done by big companies?

calling 4lung a "martyr" and putting that label on yourself for circulating and spreading the kind of content i was talking about above isnt a good thing btw. just in my opinion. i have no clue what shes up to now and i really dont care, but i hope its better than the stuff ive been recounting

#text #ill probably wind up deleting this soon tbh #ive been mulling over posting it in the first place

[afraidofchange]

[ DISCUSSION ] for our muses to talk about kinks and figure out their boundaries together. :) 4 nikitaaaaaa

@sleazygoing | for Nikita | meme. (no longer accepting!)

   “You are not like many men,” Nikita drawls lazily, laid about in the midst of messy motel sheets, with the smell of sweat and sex mixed in the haze of smoke from her cigarette and his joint. The window is cracked open, but the humid heat of Miami does little to dissipate the scent.

  “That a bad thing?”

  “No,” Nikita reassures Vernon with a grin, an easy smile despite the fact her lipstick has all but been smeared across her cheeks - and his, too. “I have... never been asked about... what I like, what I want. It make you different, you know?” 

 “Sure, babe. What else you like, other than gettin’ your pussy ate?” 

 Nikita can’t help but laugh a bit, finishing off the last drag of her cig, turning her body to reach the ash tray on the bedside table, turning the butt until she’s satisfied that it’s out, turning back to lay on her side, head rested on Vernon’s bicep. She gives a tiny shrug, fiddling with an end of her hair between her fingers. 

  “Mm, it was good, telling you what to do,” Her grin widens again, biting down on her lower lip with the thought of what she does like, what she’s seen in porno mags and late night movies on motel TV. “I have vibrator, at home,” She mentions offhandedly, letting her fingers trail along Vernon’s arm, through the thick of hair, along muscle. “Ropes, maybe. Not tight.” Her lips push together, as if pouting but the idea comes to mind as she looks at Vernon, regarding him, all of him. “Toys, maybe. We go shopping sometime. I wear something nice for you.”

 “Hell, that sounds like a good time to me,” Vernon takes another drag off his joint, and Nikita reaches out with the unspoken rule of puff-puff-pass and mirrors the action, coughing just a bit at the second toke.

“Oh, and only little bit of spanking. No more than that, okay?” When she passes the joint back, she purposely, lightly, rakes her nails across Vernon’s chest, playing with his gold chain, and decidedly scooching a bit closer, clearly done with taking her share of the joint’s remainder. “But, if you are good, I am all yours...”

#sleazygoing #NIKITA ANTONOVNA: IC #r: Nikita x Vernon #[ listen!!! her talking about what she likes is so important to me but also the Safe Space being a smoky motel ] #[ getting high after sex SJDFHJSDF ] #[ anyway i love them ][

[tip-research24]

Vaping Tanks Market 2030 Size, Share | Trends, Business Revenue Forecast and Statistics, Growth Prospective

Investors are expected to receive business-oriented market insights from The Insight Partners "Overview of Vaping Tanks Market Share, Size, and 2030" | market study. This study incorporates forecasts for the future market in addition to operational variables. This research addresses a variety of possibilities accessible for Vaping Tanks market participants in addition to drivers and obstacles. Valid facts included in this research have been framed using both primary and secondary research approaches.

Vaping Tanks Market research delves deeply into many categories to provide a thorough perspective for both seasoned players and recent arrivals. Companies may guarantee they have a competitive edge by using this market research to have a better perspective and knowledge of the target audience. Before making significant investments, businesses must have a firm understanding of the market. It makes financial sense to allocate a modest portion of your company's expenditure to reliable market research.

Firms must take an open-minded attitude in light of the competitive landscape discussed in this research. Companies may utilize the objective insights provided by this market research to identify their strengths and limitations. Companies that can capitalize on the fresh ideas gained from competition analysis will have an edge in moving forward.

A market research report, which contains proof of market research and provides the best opportunity for businesses to fulfill their objectives, might serve as the cornerstone of your business strategy.

Key objectives of this research are:

Global Vaping Tanks Market Insights- Market Share, Market Size, and CAGR

To Examine Drivers, Challenges, and Opportunities in Vaping Tanks Market

To offer competitive strategic insights that help businesses ace the game

To offer an actionable market recommendation

To brief on the impact of COVID-19 and present an account of strategic responses businesses can plan.

To analyze the Vaping Tanks market benchmarks.

COVID-19 Impact Analysis

Halting the operations temporarily, an epidemic of COVID-19 influenced on revenues of key Vaping Tanks market players. This section presents details on the range of responses businesses have to pandemic impacts and assists companies in developing post-pandemic strategies. Moving further, this chapter offers insights into supply-demand parameters for businesses to rejoin the market.

Key companies in this Vaping Tanks market are- Aspire (Aspire Vape Co.), Halocigs, IJOY, Imperial Brands, Innokin Technology, Joyetech Group, Shenzhen IVPS Technology, VapeFly.net (VapeFly.com), Vaporesso, Wake Mod Co.

To Summarize the Offerings-

Market Forecast- Coverage- Market Size, Share, and CAGR | Forecast by 2030

Market Scope– Aim of the research, A glance at key chapters

Market Dynamics- Drivers, Challenges, Regional Trends, and Market Opportunities

Market Segmentation – Product, Application, End-use Industries, and Regional Growth Prospects.

Market Players – Key Market Players and Strategies

Recent Developments and Innovation in Vaping Tanks Market

Covid-19 Analysis- Industry Landscape During and Post-Pandemic.

Regional Framework- Key Regional Markets, Growth Projections

Market Segmentation Based on Type this market is categorized further into- :

Disposable

Non-disposable

Based on Distribution Channel this market is categorized further into- :

Specialist E-Cig Shops

Online

Supermarkets

Others

Based on Geography this market is categorized further into- :

North America

Europe

Asia Pacific

and South and Central America

Key regions Vaping Tanks Market Research Report:

North America (U.S., Canada, Mexico)

Europe (U.K., France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Central & Eastern Europe, CIS)

Asia Pacific (China, Japan, South Korea, ASEAN, India, Rest of Asia Pacific)

Latin America (Brazil, Rest of Latin America)

The Middle East and Africa (Turkey, GCC, Rest of the Middle East and Africa)

Rest of the World

About Us:

The Insight Partners is a one-stop industry research provider of actionable intelligence. We help our clients in getting solutions to their research requirements through our syndicated and consulting research services. We specialize in industries such as Semiconductor and Electronics, Aerospace and Defense, Automotive and Transportation, Biotechnology, Healthcare IT, Manufacturing and Construction, Medical Devices, Technology, Media and Telecommunications, Chemicals and Materials.

#Vaping Tanks Market #Vaping Tanks Market Size #Vaping Tanks Market Share #Vaping Tanks Market Growth #Vaping Tanks Market Trends

[fullregalia]

chin chin.

Hello friends, and a happy new FY to those who observe. Despite somewhat bizarro weather since the unofficial start of summer after MDW (some true June gloom, a real life take of John Carpenter’s The Fog (Canada’s Version), an abundance of petrichor), we’ve made it to a typically stifling July weekend for the season’s flagship holiday. 

The past few years I’ve been up in Cambridge for the fourth, working on my tablescape game and caramelizing peaches (stone fruit hive, we ride!!). This year I’ll be in Litchfield, baking up a brown-butter buttermilk cake and seeing god at Arethusa. Same vibes, different ZIP codes. 

But I haven’t sat down to write 3,000 words on going cottagecore or larping as a wasp. No. I am here to discuss my only area of expertise: how to have a perfect aperitivo hour. This morning I was reading DealBook and they had a short bit about the continued “resilience” of the Aperol spritz. Legally I’m not sure when a trend term-limits out and just becomes, I don’t know, a tradition? And while I am genetically bound to honor tradition (see: that whole episode of This American Life about Fiddler on the Roof), I also think there are so many products on the market that are superior to, or at least as fun to try, as Aperol.

As with most European-born habits, the existence of aperitivo hour is actually like half the age of our country (ok, Aperol was invented in 1919). As a person of Being Basic experience, my introduction to the Aperol spritz circa 2015 was a watershed in the expansion of my drinking habits. To be fair, the Brits do have their own pseudo spritz, the Pimm’s Cup, which I’ve been drinking since I was maybe 17??? But it’s absolutely English in the sense that it’s not nearly as refined as it thinks—we’re just guzzling a drink of gin and fruit salad??? I mean, do not get me wrong: it is great, but no one at Pitti Uomo is begging for cucumber punch and a cheeky cig. I’ve rarely had a Pimm’s Cup and not immediately been mentally transported to the gazebo in my uncle’s backyard—you have a spritz and you are in a European square, surrounded by cobblestones and impossibly chic women named Franca or Celeste. Both serve a purpose, but since this is our weekend of independence, let’s quit with the Brits and focus on the the spritz.

So I’m reading DealBook (listen we all know I love Matt Levine a lot, but he’s not devoting paragraphs to “everything is bitters” content) and I see this fun little chart about the increasing market share of Aperol in Campari’s annual sales:

Naturally I got to thinking about my affinity for the Aperol spritz and its share in my personal beverage consumption. Around 2017, I was introduced to the Cappelletti spritz when they ran out of Aperol at Fairfax. (Demand for trendy drinks definitely outstrips supply in the West Village.) From then on, I became freakishly interested the possibilities of aperitivi and the vehicle of the spritz.

We all know that the Aperol spritz is basically the liqueur, sparkling wine, soda, and garnish. A perfect drink. Serve it with some olives, cheese, charcuterie—the Italians nailed la dolce vita. Given Aperol’s dominance, it’s led to a great resurgence of the category. Beyond Cappelletti (a bright, sweet, orangey liquer that is perfect full stop), there’s a wealth of aperitifs to explore:

Forthave Red: I have a bottle of this at home; based out of Brooklyn, Forthave has been doing fun stuff—gins, amaros, a coffee thing that I didn’t try but gave to a friend as an Xmas gift (I still haven’t had the nerve to drink an espresso martini, but she’s Australian and that’s like water to them)—but I stick to the red. It’s drier, closer to a Campari, with both the citrus and cherry flavors you can get from various aperitifs. 

Faccia Bruto: Another BK-based company (I am borough-loyal). By now you’ve likely seen their products all over. They make that bright green imitation chartreuse that I have heard smells terrible but mixes well. Since none of us can ever get a table at Rucola this this the second best. It’s smoky and tastes like cherry - I like it for a stronger drink, it only needs a really light Prosecco. 

Bruto Americano: Based in CA, this Bruto is also a Campari-adjacent substitute. My brother introduced this to me after our friend who lives in Cambridge introduced it to him. I think the last time we had a bottle at home in NJ we went through it pretty fast. I recall it wasn’t overpoweringly herby, and I think we went in a gin direction with it. 

Cocchi Americano (red or bianco): Another option my brother brought into the mix. Bianco is less sweet and while it still has the floral notes it is more balanced with the taste of herbs (see below as well). I don’t have a bottle of either Cocchis at home right now, but they’re on the long list. 

Berto Bianco: Let’s stick with biancos for a moment. Recently I’ve been doing a lot of vermouth and soda with a twist. I especially like biancos because they pair really nicely with citrus and are so light; perfect for a really oppressively humid day, or just an easy drink while you make dinner. The Berto is a household fave. It’s a Kermit Lynch import and I first discovered it at Formaggio’s in Cambridge so you know it has been given the snob stamp of approval. It’s bright but you can really taste the herbs.

Occhipinti Naturale (orange or red): Another vermouth! If you were one of the many people who, like me, got Occhipinti pilled after the Stanley Tucci Italy show came out, you got interested in the Occhipinti family. While Arianna makes the popular SP68 wines, another branch is busy making these vermouths. Every time I’m in Astor I wonder if this is the trip where I drop $55 on vermouth (I have yet to). But I really liked this the last time I had it. Made from moscato grapes, it has that more floral taste which can be really lovely on a humid summer afternoon.

Honorable mention also goes to: Lo-Fi Gentian, Contratto, and Select. You won’t mind displaying any of these bottles at home, either. I’m not trying to cut into Aperol’s market share, what’s nice about effective marketing is that the spritz pie is big enough for everyone to have a slice now. Honestly, I skip the Prosecco if I make anything at home, all you need is a twist of citrus and some seltzer and it’s just as refreshing (and easier to have a second round).

If you want to try these out as the Italians intended, find yourself a good spot to post up at during aperitivo hour. In BK, I like Aita for that. Manhattan has a ton of options: Jolene, Bar Pisellino (if you can get a seat), Dante, any place that is non-douchey and on a roof (are they mutually exclusive? Not my call, I’m a douche!).

Fix any of these up and, to quote Ariana Grande—right now I’m in a state of mind I want to be in, like, all the time. Once we get to summer my body needs to hear either yacht rock or Vampire Weekend at least once a day while I’m having seltzer. Make something effervescent, turn on Father of the Bride if the vibe is backyard, or Contra if you’re near a beach. Keep yourself rich in casteveltranos and whatever you do, don’t skimp on the mortadella, please. Enjoy the new freckles you’ve earned and happy Independence Day: welcome to spritz season.

#aperitivo #aperitif #dealbook #Negroni season #I love a spritz what can I say #Pimms #Spritz #spritz season #Seriously I dated a guy for a full year because he looked like Matt Levine #summer #Q3 #independence day #backyard elegance!!! #There’s nothing better than the cognitive dissonance that is Vampire Weekend’s upbeat tempo and existential lyrics #Everything is bitters

[sainnie]

V. Fees and services.

V. Fees and services.

iHeartStargirl (VIP/15.000) : solely for those who seek platonic companion-slash-doesn't involve romantic feelings to one another. taking only one client, provided with one additional on, client feel free to choose it.

iLoveFashion(VVIP/17.000) : only for those who seek a firm making bond between friends or sisters. handling only one client, with free three additional ons and client feel free to choose.

iStarYouko (VIP/22.000) : for those who want to exchange or receive more affection and a homely lover. offer to one lover, free two additional ons, client feel free to choose it.

iHugPartner (VVIP/26.000) : for lovers to share what they want and need. needs someone to be one call away? saira’s on it! free three additonal ons, client feel free to choose it, and a gift before or after the session ends.

More of them.

꩜ music date 3k/hour

꩜ hourly companion 6k/hour

꩜ movie date 5k/movie

꩜ digiart date 6k/result

꩜ matching layouts bills on client

꩜ study date 4k/hour

꩜ game date (plato, kartrider) 5k/hour

꩜ VN 3k/15 secs.

꩜ PDA 5k/session

꩜ writing/love letters date 7k/writing

꩜ fine art date bills on client

꩜ heavy game date (genshin, apex, valo) 8-10k/hour (depends on the game)

꩜ thrifting date discuss first!

꩜ OTP 8k/45 min.

꩜ food date discuss first!

꩜ drink date (non/alcohol) bills on client

꩜ cigs date bills on client

꩜ beads date bills on client

Notes.

The blue ones are applicable or you can get the service(s) for FREE only if you take VVIP package. Meanwhile, purple ones are not applicable to both of services. Clients will be charged outside of the package due to the legit bills or talent needs more energy/idea to put down for the offered services. Lastly, the green ones will be gotten for free IF talent stocks or has a pack of the object at her place. If not, then she’s sorry to announce that client must pay the exact price of the offered thing.