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eddies-house · 7 months

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Nine - Blue Eyes

W/C: 8.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Blue eyes never caught your attention...until they stepped into The Bourbon.

A/N: this was such a monster of a chapter to edit just because there's a lot going on...i hope y'all like it <3

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“Okay, well that’s not gonna work. We can’t afford all that.”

“What if I gather some…I dunno…donations?” You ponder.

“Bambi, enough.”

Eddie huffs at your persistence, crossing off a few items from the list placed in front of him. Your adorable handwriting had spelled out numerous options for fundraising ideas; something to get the bar back into a somewhat profitable margin. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t grateful for your efforts but he had proven to become more and more annoyed as your list grew throughout the week. An impatient Jett stands next to you, rocking back and forth on his heels as he sucks in his cheeks, attempting to keep his thoughts to himself, though it was never his strong suit to remain quiet when necessary.

“Dude, just pick one!” He blurts out.

The tiny office looked comical, three bodies crammed in a small space that would certainly run out of oxygen had the door been shut. A displeased glare catches Jett’s attention, only offering you a shrug in response to his outburst. You’d mentioned before even approaching Eddie for the umpteenth time this week that the key was going to be patience. Let him come to you. Make it seem like part of it was his idea so he doesn’t feel like you’re doing charity for him.

“No, we can’t afford to put on a…a wine tasting or a—hoedown?” Eddie questions with furrowed brows as he underlines the words with his pointer finger.

“Eddie, if you let me–”

“I’m not letting you do anything.” He asserts.

“Listen–”

“No.”

Eddie Munson was the most stubborn being on planet earth, that much you could attest to. But you weren’t going to let him tackle your plans to the ground without a good fight.

“Munson.” Jett tries, only to be met with an inflamed scowl.

With wide eyes, you attempt to pull his attention back to you, hoping to save Jett from receiving an earful later. “Eddie–”

“Nope.”

“Eddie!” You squeal, eyes squinting shut painfully as you throw a miniature tantrum.

“Bambi.” He deadpans, leaning over his desk to stare you down. “Leave it.”

The look that used to scare you weeks ago now only had you rolling your eyes. He was at it again, refusing any ounce of help that was offered. When he got like this, you could only play it up and bring out your begging eyes. Hope for the best.

“Jett, can you give us a minute?” You clear your throat, an overly polite tone taking over.

“Fine.” He sighs before leaning in to whisper. “The hoedown…make him pick the hoedown.”

With a playful smack to his shoulder, you escort Jett out of the office–or rather you push him out and kick the door shut. His sights were set on that hoedown ever since the two of you sat down to scrawl out a few ideas the previous week. It was bold of him to assume that you could ‘make’ Eddie pick that option. If you’d learned anything since moving here, it was that Eddie Munson was a force to be reckoned with.

“Alright Munson.” You lean over his desk as he takes a seat in the squeaky office chair, you were a bit too comfortable in his space as your perfume flooded his nose. “We are doing one of these, whether you like it or not.”

His stare should frighten you, large intimidating eyes nearly black as the patience drains from him, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as if he were contemplating a scolding remark that would force you to back off. It only encourages you.

“Oh, we are? I wasn’t aware we were under new management.” He counters, seemingly deciding to choose a softer approach.

“Yes, we are.” You bite. “Because if not, we aren’t even a we. There is no bar. Will that make you happy?”

If it seemed harsh, it still needed to be drilled into his thick skull.

“I know that!” Eddie raises his voice, caught up in the heat of the moment. He didn’t allow himself a moment to think, only act.

He wishes he could punch himself for the way he made your face drop. A hint of fear taking over your graceful features. It wasn’t who he was—or at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He didn’t yell to get his way, he was not his dad.

“Fuck–’m sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…get all mad and blow up on you.” He sighs, shyly shifting his gaze toward the ground. “I’m just…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m stressed and–that’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to–fuck I dunno.”

“Eddie...” Your saccharine tone pulls him out of whatever hole he was currently digging himself into. So candied and coated in tenderness.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to continue, the look on his face telling you everything. The wrinkles forming between his eyebrows are extra prominent, frown lines growing deeper in his anguish.

“Let us help.” Your words are dripping in honey. It’s obvious that you’re buttering him up, putting on your extra sad puppy dog eyes just for him, lip puckered out extra pouty, such a pretty sight, all for him.

“We want to help.”

There’s no saying no to you, he can’t stomach it. It was getting worse as time went on, every time he had the urge to tell you no, he couldn’t help but feel sick. Maybe if he pulled Jett back into the equation he’d have better luck. The kid got under his skin especially when he egged Eddie on and didn’t take a hint. But when you’re sitting all pretty for him, your elbows propped on his desk as you stare at him like you want nothing more in the world, who is he to deny you?

“Okay.” He exhales nervously. “Whatya got?”

“Really?” Your eyes twinkle, something he’d pay to see every single day, even if he was on the verge of bankruptcy. Which he was.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

From just outside of the door, Jett chews on his nails, the argumentative tone of conversation just seconds ago still riddling him with anxiety. It would do no one any favors to rile up the boss who had clearly already been under an immense amount of pressure with his inherited business crumbling around him. Jett knew the steaks, he knew that Eddie would refuse to give up given that his grandfather had passed down everything to his only known grandson, leaving behind his legacy. Unfortunately, it’s hard to offer help to those who refuse it. But Jett knows that if anyone can persuade the big, bad Eddie Munson who was too stubborn for his own good, it was going to be you.

Every time you walked into the room, Jett witnessed a miserable man come to life. Bored, tired eyes became enamored and filled to the brim with infatuation. A bland day would instantly be cured the second you sauntered in with your tray, more often than not dropping it in the process of securing your apron around your waist. You never learn, always opting to struggle with the tray tucked in between your arm and body while your hands fumbled with those damn strings, sending the tray straight into the floor, your pens spilling out of your apron and startling you every time as the items clanged against hardwood. And every time, Eddie is there, watching from across the room before the inevitable happens. Every time, he is at your feet, collecting your mess and questioning ‘got it?’ in a gentle tone that Jett doesn’t ever recall hearing before you came into the picture.

Every time, Eddie Munson is reduced to a puddle of a man right before everyone’s eyes. Only ever for you.

It’s infuriating.

Jett supposes had he made his move sooner he would hold your attention like Eddie does. He would catch your gaze from across the bar, a tiny smile gracing your lips. The sparkle in your eyes would be for him and only for him.

Reality delivers a punishing kick and reminds him that Eddie had you from the beginning, even when he was outright rude to you. He had your curious eyes from day one. It wasn’t fair, Jett was so convinced at first. It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been the biggest asshole and yet your mind seemed so made up on him, eyes never lingering on another soul as long as they did when Eddie was around.

He was sure that he was over it, he told himself there was no chance, but something about the banter he heard muffled by the office door only stirred up every pessimistic cell in his body. Every giggle you let out at some stupid ‘joke’ that wasn’t even funny, every fucking time Eddie called you Bambi, every time you playfully scolded him only to reel back and flatter him, all of it drove Jett nuts. His fists were clenched at his side, knuckles threatening to split at the tension and face a raging red.

Because Eddie Munson had the very thing he desired. And he didn’t deserve her.

–

Your negotiations intrigued Eddie, the way you had a solution for every problem he attempted to create didn’t even frustrate him anymore. It used to aggravate him when you would offer a simple solution to a problem he deemed unsolvable. Now it only made his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming uneven solely because he couldn’t get enough of your energy. He thrived off of it, a different kind of high taking over him when you would voice your ideas, your eyes lighting up as he watched the gears turn in your head.

He almost misses your offer to persuade Jett into snagging some hay bales from his family’s farm should he end up choosing the Hoedown Night from your extensive list. Truthfully, he was lost. Lost in swirling thoughts of the girl in front of him who nearly two months ago, he would have never given the time of day to. And he didn’t…at first. But now…now he would give you any time of day you wanted. Rain or shine, day or night. He didn’t care, he would do the impossible if it meant your face lit up like a Christmas tree every time. He just couldn’t quite admit it to himself yet.

His lack of enthusiasm concerns you although you don’t show it as you continue ranting on about Donnie mentioning some old table cloths and picnic blankets she no longer wanted that could be used. She even mentioned her husband having a few empty barrels out in their garage that could be great for apple bobbing. She went as far as to ask around for different items they could use from her neighbors, already collecting an array of items they could use at their disposal.

“-and then we charge for entry. I know it’ll probably only make a small profit but it can hold us over somewhat, right?”

He’s thinking again.

His bottom lip is tugged on by his teeth and his lids are heavy with that far off look. You didn’t think your pitch was that awful in all honesty. You would admit that Donnie’s idea of a stripper night could be taking it too far but there were so many other ideas that had such potential and if he turned every single one down, you didn’t quite have a backup plan prepared.

“Eddie?”

He blinks, twirling his pen in between his fingers as if it were a drumstick but he still remains unresponsive. It’s not a good sign.

“I-I know it’s a lot of work and–”

“Okay.” He breathes.

“Okay?”

Your eyes become doe-like, ironically. You were really living up to that nickname, the one that sent goosebumps up your spine if he said it soft enough.

“Okay.”

His agreement doesn’t feel genuine, his gaze cast somewhere far off from the tiny room.

“Eddie.”

Your tone goes stern. Or at least stern enough for him to break out of his thoughts. Within seconds, coffee colored eyes are regarding you in a way that can only be met with heated cheeks and twiddling thumbs. He had been lost in his mind again, only returning at the mention of his name a second time through that firmness you displayed when you really cared about something.

“Bambi.” The word is grounding, anxieties settling where they were once fluttering around in your stomach. You no longer worried if you had upset him in some way. Not when his voice sounded so smooth, so satiny that it almost killed you.

That welcoming voice that felt like a tight hug echoes in your ears. Brown sugar falling from his tongue and sweetening any further exchange of words, no matter how conflicting his mindset could be compared to yours. As long as he kept using that tone, you would be putty in his hands.

“Um, so…we’re doing this?” You question meekly, a contrast to the confidence you had just displayed.

It’s quiet, though his red cheeks are louder than any words. He’s apprehensive, his irises darting around the less than decorated room. It’s obvious that he’s fighting an internal battle, engaged in a horrible disagreement with himself. Harsh words are probably prodding at his brain, forcing him to be reluctant in accepting any fraction of help.

What he doesn’t realize is that while he swears you’re staring at the biggest coward to walk the earth, you find him to be brave. It was clear after previous nights of long talks and shared trauma, that this wasn’t easy for him. Giving up control was the most terrifying thing he could do. Accepting this form of help was foreign to him, people back home in Indiana never offered him such courtesy.

So you wait.

With a stupid amount of patience that Eddie will never understand, you soften your gaze. All pressure is removed. Your attention shifts to doodling some kind of a flower on the paper sitting atop the desk in between you. You don’t await an answer from him, you only exist with him. Nothing is required of him and somehow, you both understand that.

He doesn’t want to be held to such requirements. He wants you to raise your standards and he wants to meet them, exceed them. You shouldn’t have to dull your bright personality for his shattered dignity. He’d always been a shadow looming over those he was closest to, always a dark cloud among a sunny day reminding everyone of his detrimental existence.

Good things did not happen to Eddie Munson.

Not in the past, not in the present no matter how convincing life could be in coaxing him into its trap, and certainly not in the future. Anything disguised as a saving grace would always end up being Eddie’s eternal hell. It always has and it always will.

Either way, his fate was determined. So why not let you take the lead? In his eyes, it would honor him if you ruined his life and although the mere thought of you leaving him behind in the aftermath of destruction haunted him, he couldn’t help but give up his control.

He was tired of fighting off the ‘good things’.

Especially when he would be left to piece himself together either way. It’s just another event he would have to endure, another lesson he wouldn’t learn from because he was too goddamn stubborn. Another mountain he would have to climb with his bloody, bare hands.

You continue waiting, not once pestering him for confirmation. He hates it.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

You should be screaming at him, demanding an answer after his prolonged silence. Your hands should be smacking the surface of the desk in annoyance, your eyebrows should be pinched in frustration, and they aren’t.

There’s a comfort in the abuse.

Secretly, he begs you to lose your cool, pleads with some higher power that you snap out of it and just slap him across the face like he deserves. He is being difficult and you aren’t reacting. He has gone mute and you are simply okay with it. Even in the most forgiving situations he braces for impact but you make it so hard to.

His guard is supposed to be up, the walls are supposed to close him in and keep everything out but they’re crumbling around him, fast, exposing him. He feels naked but you don’t stare at him with expectancy, you don’t reach out and snatch what vulnerability he has left.

“I–” He breaks the unforgiving silence, wincing as his voice cracks. It’s only when you glance up at him with understanding eyes, your heart on your sleeve, that he relaxes.

Tension still pulls at every muscle, but he breathes. He breathes through the nausea of putting his trust into another person. Something he swore to never do again ever since his dad dared to show his face one last time back when Eddie was in high school. It was only the last time because he had gotten arrested, Eddie was sure he’d be stupid enough to give him several chances in hopes of fixing his deranged father. He was only human and the six year old kid in him only wanted to see the good in people, especially his ‘pops’.

“We–we’re doing this.” He practically demands of himself.

“Eddie we don’t have to–”

“We’re doing it.”

With glassy eyes, he nods as if he’s still convincing himself. You can’t help but intervene.

“Seriously, I know we were coming on strong but it’s just because–”

“I know.”

You don’t need further confirmation from him, big brown eyes doing enough of the talking as you begin to assure him he was the one calling the shots.

“Do you?” You ask genuinely.

Again, a part of him is pissed that you won’t just take the answer and tell him he didn’t need to be such a baby about the whole thing. Maybe slam the door out of irritation, enough to shake the wall. Maybe ask for a raise for all of your efforts. People didn’t do things for him just to be nice and he was already hating himself for being so pitiful that Donnie was offering to help without any compensation.

“Yeah.” He whispers.

“Are you sure?”

“Can you just–”

Eddie finds himself on the cusp of blowing up again. Anger bubbles in the back of his throat like bile, his hands clenched into fists repeatedly as his lips trace those familiar numbers before letting anything he regrets fall from his mouth in his moment of fury.

“Can I just what?” You question softly, hand reaching for his.

“Nothing.” He breathes.

There’s a pause, a brief moment where he’s clearly panicked, resembling a spooked horse. It disappears just as fast as it came, his eyes softening as he processes the situation. You just had to go and ruin it.

“Why do you count?”

The question spills into the air without you even thinking, your mind simply throwing it out there without fear of any consequences. Without thinking that maybe now isn’t the time. You regret it as his shoulders tense up, his guard up once again. The guard you’d patiently chipped away at only to destroy any progress you’d made.

“I–”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m sorry, I–just pretend I didn’t ask.” You attempt to stitch the messy conversation back together.

“No, uh, I-I…”

Stop letting her in.

You’re gonna get hurt.

You don’t expect his shoulders to untense as he sighs, you don’t anticipate how quickly his guard falls again, any hesitance he displays faltering before completely disappearing into thin air. All that remains is sincerity, face no longer contorted in worry and eyelids drooping ever so slightly in his sudden relaxation.

“I just–I started doing it after…after everything back…back home.” He answers before his thoughts can steer him away. “I dunno why.”

You’re satisfied with his answer, you’d even be satisfied with no answer. He didn’t owe you explanations and yet he kept giving them to you. Spilling his guts out to you, practically letting them fall onto the thin, dingy carpet of the office.

“I, uh, I’ve asked my therapist about it.” He elaborates, voice quiet and mumbled. “She said it’s part of the PTSD.”

You didn’t expect him to reveal such a personal detail although you find yourself squeezing his hand, settling into the quiet of the bland room. Words aren’t necessary, they never are between you.

“I don’t even know how to throw a hoedown.” Eddie snorts to himself, the energy shifting into something more familiar, more comfortable in the blink of an eye.

You’re willing to unpack whatever baggage he had revealed but it’s clear that he no longer is. And that was okay.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’m gonna get you a big bedazzled cowboy hat and everything, just let me take care of the details.” You partially joke, deciding not to tease him over his not-so-subtle choice of Hoedown Night.

“No, nuh-uh. Not happening.” He protests, arms thrown up dramatically.

“C’mon, you need to look the part!”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

His smile is contained, a grin threatening to pull at his pretty lips as his thumb grazes the top of your hand. A small gesture that nearly burns your skin.

“Well, I think you’d look cute in a cowboy hat.” Again, your mind speaks for you without any contemplation.

You should take it back.

You want to regret it.

You don’t.

It’s worth it when his face flushes red again, his fingers coyly pulling a curl over his face as if to hide, a sight you wanted to capture if only you had your polaroid with you. You’d have to settle for mentally pinning this moment to the wall in your mind that was ever growing. He doesn’t return the flirtatious banter but it doesn’t go unnoticed when he beams at you from his chair as you offer him sparkling eyes and fluttering lashes on your way out.

Two Weeks Before Thanksgiving

“Okay, Jett’s bringing the haybales in for Friday?”

“Yep.” Your pen glides across your messy, scribbled out checklist in a hurry.

“Did you get the apples yet?”

“Nope, was gonna stop by Thursday so they’re fresh.” You mumble, jotting down a few more tasks that had yet to be done.

“Alright and Nathan’s gonna have his truck all set for hay rides outside, that’s another charge right? We can charge extra?” Donnie questions, her scatter brain on full display.

“Yes, that would be great.” You assure, grace in your tone.

“Alright and then, Eddie’s friends should be here on Wednesday to surprise him–” Donnie begins to mutter.

What?” Your eyes widen, practically bulging out of your head.

“Yeah, Steve? And then the others–” Realization hits Donnie like a train, her eyes nearly falling out of her skull just as yours were. “Oh shit! I forgot to tell you.” She hisses.

Glancing around, she ensures the coast is clear before waving you out back. It was a Monday, the lack of patrons allowing you to do all the planning you needed to for Knife’s Edge first ever Hoedown. Donnie had been mapping out the place, assisting you in drawing out the layout for the event on paper. Eddie had been managing the bar, the sluggish evening rendering him positively bored, making it a point to initiate a huge yawn every time you passed by throughout the evening.

It drove him crazy when you pretended to ignore him.

“Do you think he heard you?” You whisper, the safety of being just around the corner not enough to convince you.

“He didn’t, that boy is nearly deaf.” Donnie seems certain. “God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.” She throws her arms up in exasperation.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“Here’s the deal.” Donnie pulls herself together, grabbing you by the shoulders. “They come into town Wednesday night. Four of them I think, I always forget their names, god it makes me feel like shit. Anyway, they’re gonna surprise him at the bar. They usually stay with him.” She nearly runs out of breath in her explanation.

“Okay.” You breathe.

“Did I answer your questions?”

“I, uh, I think so.” You nod.

“You cannot tell him.” Donnie stares you down. “They’ve never surprised him, he usually knows when they’re coming to visit. Swear you won’t say a word.”

Her demeanor is almost threatening although you find it sweet that she cares so much. Eddie’s best interest had always been something she prioritized, same as you. In your eyes he was a golden boy with a golden heart who was dealt shitty cards. You weren’t sure if Donnie had been enlightened about any pieces of his past but you both seemed to have the same goal in mind.

His happiness.

As you continued to prepare for Friday’s events, you avoided eye contact with Eddie at all costs throughout the night, especially after you had learned about the ‘big surprise’. You’d walk past the bar, the shaker in his hands as he prepared a drink. He’d pause, the shaker mid air as his gaze trailed after you. You felt awful for denying his puppy eyes but it was all for his benefit in the end.

You couldn’t lie though, holding his attention as you continued to ignore him over and over offered you an ego boost. You’d never been looked at in such a way, you never felt so desired in your life.

–

“Have you seen the way she ignores me?” Eddie complains, Jett only muttering nonsense in response that Eddie couldn’t decipher.

“She won’t even look at me when I talk to her!” He almost whines.

It was getting to him, your constant neglect. It had been a day, a whole day since you’d started avoiding his eyes, never smiling at him the way you usually did throughout your shift. Not one little wave thrown his way. He felt starved. He’d never been so needy for someone’s attention, he was starting to feel like a leech.

“Dude, she’s just working.” Jett grumbles, his hands occupied as he stacks a hay bale against the back of the building. They’d been instructed to go out back and relocate them to make things easier come Friday night. They’d previously been stacked near the dumpsters, a little ways away from the building and were now being hauled next to the back door for easy access.

“You don’t get it, she’s being weird. It’s like she hates me.” Eddie grunts as he lifts the brick of hay.

“Maybe she does.” Jett sighs, not a single thought behind his words.

“What?” Eddie questions, attempting to hide the panic that had begun to shock his nerves, his head snapping toward his supposed friend.

“I–I dunno.”

“She say somethin’?” Eddie demands, shoving the hay onto its corresponding stack as he diverts his attention to Jett fully.

Jett’s gaze only gives off that he’s hiding something, his eyes avoiding Eddie at all costs, an ongoing trend poor Eddie was beginning to find. It only fuels a fire inside of him, embers growing angrier each moment Jett stands there dumbly.

“Did she?” The look in Eddie’s eyes resembles that of a bear that had been poked. Jett regrets letting his innermost thoughts fall from his lips in a moment of irritation, now he was subject to Eddie’s unforgiving inferno that was never easy to escape from.

“No.” Jett snaps a bit too aggressively.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know why you think she owes you attention.”

If Jett hadn’t fucked up yet, he certainly had now. If only he could’ve kept his stupid, naive mouth shut.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Eddie’s fist clenched at his side says enough, it screams that the conversation should stop here, that Jett needs to stop egging him on but he refuses to let it end here.

“Yeah, you practically pissed on her, claiming your territory and shit.”

If looks could kill, Jett would be in for a world of pain. Just when Eddie thinks the twerp is finally going to realize his place, he keeps going.

“She’s not your property, what if she had her sights set on someone else? You gonna swoop in and piss on her again?”

It feels as if someone grabbed his heart straight out of his chest and chucked it off the nearest cliff. The blood had stopped pumping and he swears he feels his veins run cold. He didn’t think he stood a chance with you but the thought of you becoming absolutely infatuated with Jett sickened him. Did you really have the intention of going after Jett? He couldn’t stomach the idea. He might as well sell the bar and run now to save himself the heartache, the only thing he was good at.

“I–” Eddie’s speechless, rage and sorrow clouding his vision.

“Oh, now you’re gonna shut up about–”

“I never claimed her, or pissed on her, or whatever the hell you’re saying.” Eddie argues.

“Yes you did! ‘Bambi’? What kind of shit is that?”

Eddie can feel himself vibrating with anger, his blood heating up once again as he scowls. Jett had not once expressed any interest in you and now here he was, attacking Eddie over something as stupid as a nickname.

“Go fuck yourself.” He spits before storming inside.

No one would ever want to be on the receiving end of the absolute death glare he’d shot Jett. It lasted seconds but some would go as far to say those seconds were torture. Deep down Eddie knew he could punch Jett and be done with it, assert his dominance. But that’s not what his intent was, you weren’t some prize to be won. You had simply fallen into his life and he couldn’t help but fall in lo–

He couldn’t help but surrender to your existence.

And now? Now he was in his head again. If you were going to ignore him, he was going to let you. You didn’t owe him a thing, even after the late night talks and spilled guts of vulnerability. Jett could have your attention for all he cares now. Except, he does care. And that’s what causes such an ache within him, the fact that he does care even if you don’t.

–

“Eddie, can you hand that glass to me?” You request sweetly, tip toeing as you point toward the shelf above him.

He looks up, a wine glass tucked nicely on the top shelf within his reach but clearly outside of yours. The frown on his face puzzles you though you keep to yourself as he garnishes a drink with orange.

“Mhm.” He mumbles bitterly, reaching up to grab the glass and handing it to you without so much as a glance.

You should be glad, looking into his eyes would only force you to engage in conversation with him and doing so could lead you down the path of honesty. You’d for sure give up the surprise and you only needed to last one more day, you couldn’t fuck this up.

“You okay?” You question, hesitantly gripping the glass in your smaller hand.

“Mhm.” He mumbles again, sliding the cocktail across the counter to its awaiting customer.

“You sure?” You betray yourself, attempting to catch his gaze, no longer caring that there was a chance of spoiling the surprise.

“Mhm.”

It was the third hum in a row. It drove you crazy, he would usually say something snarky and act like the smartass he is by now. He’s not and it worries you. Maybe it’s not your place to worry but you do.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.” He huffs, chest heaving.

A warning glance has you nodding, slowly stepping away to resume your original task. It was humbling, one day bantering and somehow falling into conversation about each other’s deepest secrets and the next being treated like a stranger. You obey his stare, his chocolatey eyes no longer displaying any trace of affection or depth, only pure hostility. The spark that had threatened to ignite so many times had disappeared completely, only what appeared to be ash leftover from the small fire that once burned within him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jett announces himself next to you, breaking down a dirty table as you go to retrieve one of The Bourbon’s most expensive bottles of wine for a snobby customer.

“I, I don’t know.” You whisper in despair.

The rest of the night, you’re met with spiteful glares from Eddie and lingering touches from Jett.

Wednesday Night

This was it, after tonight you wouldn’t need to be so avoidant of Eddie. You wouldn’t have to lie to his face. It was becoming apparent however, that he had become irate. Every second of the day. That morning you waved to him as you got the mail and he tinkered with his truck to which he practically snarled and went right back to work. It was like you were back to square one with him, back to when he hated you and you had disturbed his precious, quaint, little life.

It could just be that he’s in a bad mood, it was early after all and maybe his truck had given out on him again. It was reasonable enough, it would piss you off had you been in his shoes. You weren’t entirely sure you’d take it out on everyone but it would sour your mood.

It was hard to keep a smile on your face while he glared at you from behind the bar just as he had done the previous night. You were trying to be the bigger person, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was just making it so difficult by purposely delivering daggers to you whenever he could.

“Hey!” Jett greets you, emerging loudly from the kitchen.

You greet him back, a muttered ‘hi’, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from the man that seemed to suddenly hate you. You were in no mood to be friendly anymore, not when Eddie was creating such a venomous atmosphere using only his face.

“Is everything pretty much in place for Friday?”

“Uh huh.” You don’t even so much as look at Jett, a head full of curls the only thing holding your attention at the moment.

“You going with anyone?” He asks, pushing himself into your line of sight, much to your dismay.

It was as if you were trying to read Eddie’s mind from across the room and if you stared hard enough, you’d finally get through. You had no such luck and it could potentially be because Jett kept pestering you with questions.

“I’m working.” You state obviously, wiping down the table you had been clearing.

“Well–yeah…yeah me too. I just—maybe after? Once everyone’s cleared out, would you wanna…go out?”

It takes you by surprise and for a second, you’re unsure if he’s asking you out as a friend or if he’s making a move. As you evaluate the situation, you determine that it’s the latter with the way he shyly smiles and averts his eyes ever so slightly, his cheeks tinting a bright pink. You’d done nothing to feed into his interest, even when you figured he was just being friendly, simply too busy working to engage in the conversation he continued to try and force. Now it was just going to get awkward.

“I–I, Jett I’m sorry but…no, I’m not–I can’t.” You choke out, the sheer humiliation of the situation for both parties dragging you down.

“Oh.” Is all he says, disappointment evident in his eyes, gaze casting toward the floor as he twists a rag around in between his fingers.

“I just–we’re friends–”

“Yeah.” He sighs bitterly, spinning on his heel to speed off toward a busy table.

There was no further conversation, he didn’t let you finish, didn’t even offer to talk privately. It was just…done. And now you feared you’d made an enemy simply by saying no to a date. You were now the villain in his story. It seemed you were becoming the villain in everyone’s story at this rate, what’s one more?

It was t-minus two hours until Eddie’s friends would be arriving to surprise him and you were already worn out. If there was any hope of making a good impression at some point, there wasn’t a chance anymore. They’d be met with a mess of a girl with smudged mascara and crazy hair, apron stained with melted cheese that you had leaned into earlier on one of the tables.

They were going to hate you.

–

“Honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Donnie ushers you toward the hallway leading to the back, only stopping just before going outside to talk in private.

The whole night it seemed you were a brainless mess, messing up orders and forgetting in general how to do your job. Donnie had been keeping an eye on the time, ensuring things were set up for when Eddie’s friends arrived all the while making sure he had no idea. You’d helped set up the table for them and set aside the alcohol they liked but in all honesty you don’t even remember your entire shift. You were right back to being a stupid girl that didn’t belong.

“I-I just–do you think Eddie is upset with me?” Your lip wobbles pathetically.

“What!?” Donnie gasps, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Why would he be mad at you? That boy likes you better than he likes me. Better than he likes most of us.”

That was news to you, you’d never been the favorite. And you doubted her words, no matter how sweet they were.

“I-I dunno. He seems–he seems really on edge and I’m just…I’m really overwhelmed and–” You whimper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She rubs your shoulder almost uncomfortably. Physical affection was not her specialty. “I’m gonna–I’m gonna go get him–”

“No!”

Before your protests reach her ears, she’s gone, rounding the corner straight to the bar. You’re well aware that you should rush out the back door behind you right now, that you should just spare everyone your existence but before you can pick up your heavy feet from the ground, a mane of curls comes hurling at you, hands reaching out to grip your shoulders. You look pathetic, tears beginning to trail down your cheeks, mascara more than likely following them, creating the most psychotic image.

“Bambi, what happened?” He asks, sincerity creasing his forehead rather than irritation as you’d grown used to in the past day or so.

“Nothing.” You attempt to brush past him, swallowing what pride you had left only to be firmly held in place.

“What happened.” He demands.

Chocolatey irises refuse to look away from you, his mind made up as he pushes for an explanation. Determination settles in his gaze, he wasn’t going to let you take the easy way out, much to your dismay.

“It’s not like you care.”

Your words bite, pain spreading as you regard him with such fire in your eyes. His hands remain on your shoulders, keeping you there while he continues his interrogation. It’s all too much, everything is falling apart in a matter of seconds. At least that’s how it feels in your mushy little brain.

“What?” He scoffs, offense evident in his pinched eyebrows.

“You don’t need to sit here and pity me. I’m sure you have better things to do like mad dog me all night. ”

It’s childish, the way that you cross your arms and jut your hip out to make a statement, but you can’t help it, especially when he had been such an ass the past few days. You’d done nothing to instigate–at least nothing you could think of and if you had, he wasn’t manning up to communicate the issue. The ball was in his court as far as you were concerned.

“What the fuck has gotten into everyone?” Eddie removes his hands from your shoulders to drop his arms heavily at his sides, almost as if he had given up. You hate that you miss the tiniest bit of warmth from his hands.

“No, what the fuck has gotten into you?” You counter meanly.

“Me!?” He raises his voice in the slightest but it doesn’t startle you, no, it only aggravates you.

“Yeah, you!” You match his volume. “You’re acting like a giant baby, moping around all day! We’re all just supposed to put up with it cause you own the place!?”

Eddie bites his tongue…hard. It’s useless when his stupid brain shoves his words out of his mouth, no longer a private thought that he could forget when he managed to calm down later.

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me all week! What, are you too busy dry humping Jett to engage in actual conversation these days?”

There are several people scattered throughout the bar but at this moment, only her and Eddie exist. It’s not how she imagined in her daydreams. In her daydreams they’re smiling, unable to take their eyes off each other, his eyes swallow her lovingly and his rough hands brush against her cheeks as they drink in each other’s existence. They don’t fight, they don’t argue.

It would be too good to be true and she knows that. But she didn’t expect him to be like every other guy. He wasn’t like every other guy…until now. Until he reduced her to some other guy’s side piece the moment he disagreed with her.

“I–what?” You breathe in disbelief.

“I didn’t mean that.” He wishes he could turn back time and slap himself, take the words back, and apologize for his toddler-like behavior. Real life doesn’t offer such luxuries.

“Just–” Your words are lodged in your throat, unable to defend yourself as he pathetically dials back on his insult.

When he reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder as he had before, you wince painfully. Because it was painful. His touch would be enough to singe your skin except this time it would be out of malice. You wanted nothing to do with whatever apology he was about to improvise, you just wanted him to get out of your sight so you could finish up the night, clock out and cry into your pillow at home.

The progress you’d made with him seemed to have disintegrated like grains of sand passing through your fingers. It was such a miniscule issue that had only become larger with each sentence exchanged, an escalating argument between immature adults who were emotionally stunted and stubborn.

“Where’s Munson!” An unfamiliar voice calls from the front.

He ignores it, ducking his head down to catch your eyes only to be met with seething anger. His brain was scrambling to find a solution, a quick fix to tide you over. There wasn’t. He made his bed and he had to lay in it. He was in the dog house, if you even would be so kind as to provide him a dog house. He wouldn’t blame you if you chucked him out in the freezing cold for his behavior.

“Bambi–”

“Don’t.” You grit, pushing past him, his shoulder taking an impressive hit.

As you round the corner, it’s obvious that the four strangers lingering around the bar were Eddie’s friends. Good. They could be left to deal with his insufferable personality and rude comments.

“Eddie!” One of them shouts. He had to have been younger by a few years, maybe a college student. His curls are tighter than Eddie’s and he has an adorable grin that you couldn’t frown at any longer as he briefly glances at you. His attire was nerdy, some kind of polo decorated in graphics on his torso and khaki pants showcasing his unique style. To top it off, a baseball cap with a university logo sat snugly on his head.

The others appeared to be older, their demeanor a tad more mature than the boy that had yelled for Eddie like a younger sibling. To the right of him was a man with crazy voluminous hair, you notice how his pants fit quite tightly although it works for him. He wore a yellow sweater that seemed so cozy, you were starting to grow jealous. As you subtly look him over, you conclude that he has a handsome face, he was good looking, you weren’t gonna lie to yourself. He definitely wasn’t your type but you had eyes and could admit that he was in fact cute.

To the handsome guy’s right, is a girl with striking blue eyes and freckles dotting across her face. She sports a dirty blond bob with some messy bangs, a look that you knew would look horrendous on you but did her justice. She wears a blue toned flannel and some blue jeans with a few tiny holes and some converse. The grin on her face is contagious, though you really couldn’t find it in you to provide such a large smile in return, your ears still burning from your previous interaction with he who shall not be named.

Lastly, next to flannel girl, was perhaps a supermodel? If not she could certainly be one. Her face was also adorned in softer freckles and her eyes were a piercing blue, but she had these brown curls that reached just the tops of her shoulders that looked so lucious and well taken care of. Her outfit was a little bit quirky but it worked and she might as well be a trendsetter in your book. Her skirt was plaid and pink while her sweater was lavender with several tiny flowers creating a pattern across the fabric. She wore these boots that you’d die to have in your closet, truthfully.

Together, as a group they were rather intimidating, especially considering you were the only individual who hadn’t met them yet. So you idled near the bar, pretending to focus on cleaning a glass that had already been sparkling as all customers had already been served, Eddie tending to his surprise guests, leaving no room for you in the equation.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, seemingly less than happy.

Each of his friend’s faces fall, no doubt taken back by the fact that they weren’t met with an elated friend they hadn’t seen for a while, instead they were met with his wrath that was more than likely supposed to be reserved for you but happened to slip through the cracks and leak at their feet. He didn’t have a right to be upset with you, he’s the one who took it too far. No sympathy was spared for him in your eyes.

“To see you!” Flannel girl exclaims, hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“Do we smell or somethin’?” The handsome one asks playfully, a smirk displayed on his face as he pokes Eddie’s shoulder. “What’s got you so bent outta shape?”

Eddie sighs, visually huffing out a breath as he controls his irritation. An apologetic expression crosses his face and you only wish he had the guts to offer you the same look moments ago. Even if he did, it didn't fix anything. He still practically insinuated that you had been slutting around with a coworker that you had not once even hugged. At most, you’d awkwardly side-hugged him a few times.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. Just, uh, just under a lot of pressure.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “Hi, and what are you doing here?” He asks, a tad more friendly.

“Do I get a hug?” The younger one asks with a shit-eating grin. You almost laugh, almost.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, engulfing the boy in a bone-crushing hug, his palm smacking down on his back which only makes the boy grunt in protest. Then, each of them receives a tight hug from him.

“It’s called a surprise, Munson.” The supermodel chirps, her voice gentle and sincere.

At this, you don’t know why but you can feel your teeth grinding. Your jaw tenses, fists balling up at your sides. You don’t even try to pretend that you’re occupied with something, that you’re too busy to even notice the interaction. And she notices.

“You must be Bambi.”

You hate that she seems so kind, bright blue irises full of compassion tuning in on you. How she knew the nickname Eddie had selected for you, you weren’t sure. What you did know is that the name only felt right falling from his lips, no one else’s. Politely correcting her with your actual name, you can only hope she picks up on the hint.

“Nancy Wheeler.” She introduces herself, gingerly shaking a hand that you had extended toward her.

You could play nice. Even as you will yourself to come down from your haze of rage, you can make nice. These people had nothing to do with what Eddie had said minutes ago, they didn’t deserve to have your first impression of them tainted by the rotten words he spat at you.

“Steve.” The handsome one brushes past Nancy, gracing you with warm eyes and a lopsided smile, shaking your hand gently. You wouldn’t expect it from someone dressed so preppy.

It all becomes so overwhelming-

“I’m Robin!” The other girl chirps in excitement, pushing Steve to the side to clasp her hand in yours. She wore a handful of delicate rings, a contrast to the chunky ones you were used to Eddie sporting.

“Hey!” Steve protests, offense written in every line of his face as he displays his disdain.

“Dustin Henderson!” The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–” Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

So much personality bursts from each individual before you, not one of them the least bit shy as they continuously take over the conversation from one another. Robin’s statement only begs the question…what have they heard? Even further questions surface the more you think about it. Had Eddie alerted them of your existence back when you first crashed into his peaceful life? Maybe they’d heard all bad things, all things that painted you as some idiotic girl who cried at even the mention of a confrontation.

Among your silent panic, one question crawled to the forefront of your mind, clawing its way out of the millions of other haunting thoughts. A question that you had no right to be asking, even if only in the solitude of your brain.

Was Nancy Eddie’s girlfriend?

~end~

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #stranger things au #stranger things fic #eddie munson series

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penny-anna · 7 months

Text

i bought a flat this week.

was off work sick last thursday/friday with what turned out to be the beginnings of a bad cold but at the time i was just like 'oh no why am i so tired is this the return of the Mystery Fatigue'

let's backtrack for a second!! back when i had the offer accepted on my flat my solicitor suggested october 6th as a move in date and i was like sure that works (this was around the beginning of september). then i didn't hear anything from them for many days and then i started getting major dry eye problems that became all consuming so i didn't get around to chasing them.

anyway!! tuesday last week i get an email from my solicitor like 'hi are you still able to complete friday' and i did not have the headspace to deal with it so i didn't reply

Wednesday my solicitor calls like 'hi. we need to know if you want to complete friday'. i'm like 'actually i'm really not feeling well this week, could we postpone'. she calls back a few minutes later like 'they cannot postone'. at this point i'm still thinking that if i get a decent night's sleep i'll feel better so i tell her i'll deal with it in the morning.

Thursday i feel spectacularly worse. have to get up to go to an appointment with my optometrist. almost start crying in their office bcos i'm just so exhausted. (he seemed weirdly unfazed by this?? looking back i wonder if he thought my eyes were hurting or something and didn't realise that i was holding back tears gfhglj) call out sick from work.

plan is to take a nap and then look at the documents my solicitor sent over but she calls me again like 'hi. sorry to bother you i know you're sick but can we complete today' so i'm like ah shit ig we're doing this now. please walk me through exactly what you need me to do here. 'we just need you to send us the money'. yeah i can do that. i've never made a payment this big before tho.

(i'm buying w money inherited from my mother so even for a flat purchase it's an unusually large amount of money)

'oh yeah you won't be able to that online. *pause* are you well enough to go to the bank?' i am tired enough that going to the bank will suck but not so sick i cannot go to the bank.

i had gone fully back to bed. spurred on by sudden wave of adrenaline, get out of bed and dressed and get the bus into town to the bank.

my bank closes at 3pm weekdays and by the time i get that it's about 1:45. explain the situation. turns out that to make a payment this big you need a sit-down meeting with a member of staff and they are booked solid till 3. 'can you come back tomorrow at 9:30 when we open' *dying inside* yes. i can come back tomorrow at 9:30.

go home. remember that i'd told my manager that i'd call her at 9 to let her know if i'm going to be working (i will defo not be working & she knows this) which will be tricky if i have to leave at 9 to go to the bank. have a pretty interminable IM conversation via microsoft teams about this wherein i suggest i message her first thing and call a bit later and she isn't going for it. eventually agree to call at 9 just so i can end the conversation and go to sleep.

Friday morning end up calling my manager from the bus. get to bank. whole thing takes a full 30 minutes so yeah i can see why they couldn't fit me in thursday afternoon ghfdljkfhdj. i'm so so tired. they have to go over a whole fraud prevention statement with you. 'you should be aware that scammers can pretend to be your solicitor'. me, exhausted: okay what if just this one time. a scammer is pretending to be my solicitor.

make the payment. go home to sleep finally.

later in the afternoon get another call from the solicitor. 'hi we have the keys you can come get them whenever'. oh yeah i'd been so caught up in trying to get them the money i'd kinda forgotten about. actually getting the flat.

(side note at no point was i planning to move in on 'moving day', an advantage of being a first time buyer is that i don't have to & i want to redecorate the place which is easier while it's empty)

initially say i'll come in next week but then realise that ideally next week i'll be back at work (i am not but anyway) so i might as well go now. it's pushing 4pm so will need to head out ASAP.

eyes are very dry and itchy from sleeping all day but fortunately i just (on a recommendation from my optometrist) bought a thing called a facial sauna which is a very weird contraption but does work extremely quickly.

pack my eye drops and also a peanut butter sandwich to eat in my new flat (why not) and go get the keys.

arrive at the flat. on inspection realise that the envelope i've been given seems to contain the most random assortment of loose keys. eventually identify an actual set of keys.

put my key in the lock of the flat door. abruptly hear a cat meowing, somewhere very close by.

previous owner had cats (plural) (i know this bcos i saw them when i was viewing the place). have a sudden moment of panic that i've somehow wildly misunderstood the whole situation and that she and her cats are still in residence.

look down. there is a very large, very fluffy white cat standing next to me, looking up at me as if expecting to be let in.

'you can't come in. this is my house.'

make my first mistake: think that if i open the door i will be able to prevent the cat from entering.

cat goes straight on into my flat.

i'm now pursuing the cat from room to room saying 'hey! hey you can't be in here! this is my house!'. the cat doesn't give a shit for obvious reasons (it is a cat)

i might have considered just shooing the cat outside and shutting the door but have arrived at an IMO not unreasonable concern. cat seemed very determined to enter this flat in particular and is now roaming around as if looking for something. previous owner had multiple cats and moved out AFAIK today. i have heard stories about people accidentally leaving cats behind when they move.

at this point it's 4:55 on a Friday. call my solicitor and explain the situation. ask if she could pass on a message to the seller's solicitor. unfortunately they have already closed for the week so it will have to wait till Monday but she will do her best.

decide the next course of action is to see if the cat has any ID. the cat is wearing a harness & collar so might have a tag with an address. make my second mistake: pick the cat up.

the cat does not have any ID on the harness. the cat does NOT like being picked up. cat gets very squirmy and then begins scratching me. cat manages to break my skin through a hoodie.

i put the cat down. the cat hisses at me. this is very rude considering that it is in my house.

head across the landing to see if the people opposite are missing a cat or, failing that, know their neighbours well enough to recognise the cat. there's no answer.

however!! i hear a voice down in the stairwell that sounds like it could be someone calling out a cat's name. 'hi!! is someone down there looking for a cat?' no answer.

look down the stairwell. on the ground floor there is a very large fluffy brown cat wearing a harness. !!!!! that is my cat's friend!

retrieve the cat from my flat (fortunately it just follows me out) and head downstairs. am met partway up by the cat's owner.

'oh thank god is this your cat'. it is her cat. apparently she had opened her front door to let them out into the garden and it had wandered off. 'i just moved in today it came into my flat'.

she is very apologetic. cat is unrepetent.

go back inside. call my solicitor's office. 'hi was it you i spoke to just now about the cat' (I told 2 people about the cat) 'no i just answered the phone because it was ringing. what cat.' 'can you tell *solicitor's name* that i have found the cat's owner. she will know what you mean'.

problem solved!! time to eat my peanut butter sandwich. :)

#long post

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dear-ao3 · 11 months

Text

how i met my boyfriend - the designer axe story

as promised, since we have both now graduated the statute of limitations has expired on this story and i can now share it all with you.

some notes: ra is resident assistant and this story occurred in august of 2021. i wrote this all out the day after it happened almost 2 years ago. we did not actually start dating until october 2021 after we both realized we were in love with eachother. yes, we are still together as of may 2023.

without any further ados, the much anticipated designer axe story.

so part of RA training is that we have to make door decorations and bulletin boards for our halls and buildings. i had finished my door decks at 1 am sunday morning and the bulletin boards weren't due until 9 am monday morning. so i had all of sunday to work on it.

my building has no less than seven bulletin boards per floor and an additional 4 on the entrance floor. i dont know who the hell built this building but we need to have a serious talk about when too many bulletin boards is too many fucking bulletin boards.

so i was in charge of three on my floor. one about me, one covid policies and one sloth (his name is sam and i love him). and i am a chronic procrastinator. so i finished my about me and got through about 95% of my covid one by like 9pm and had to go back to the res life office to cut out a few more letters and get some scrapbook paper.

at this point its probably important to know that the only people on campus at this point were the RAs, some students getting mentoring training, and a few random first years here for an early arrival program. plus some staff.

now, i need you all to understand that there are 42 RAs. all of us have the same deadline. all of us had between 2 and 5 bulletin boards to complete. plus door decks. and room condition reports. so we were all moving at literally 600 frames per second, 120 miles per hour, or about as fast as a child does when they are told there's cake.

which is to say, we were all frazzled and stressed out of our minds.

so i open the door to the res life office at around 9 pm to cut out the word "but" in orange construction paper and grab 2 sheets of purple scrapbooking paper. in the office are the four RAs that were on duty that night, plus a good 7 other people are running around asking about glue sticks and construction paper and keys.

i knew that i only had my sloth board left to complete so i decided to take my sweet ass time, knowing that i was in need of a good break (and also im just a procrastinator) so i cut my letters and grabbed my paper and stood at the desk for no less than an hour talking to everyone about things like the fact that i fell out of a suitcase when i was 2 and that tamper proof lids exist because of the chicago poison pill murders and the flagship l.l. bean store in maine. it was very productive.

so i finally slink back to my dorm at around 10pm, very confident that i would finish by midnight and could watch some netflix or something before i went to bed. if only i knew what was in store for me.

i enter my dorm building and walk to the elevators. and then. one of the RAs from the third floor was like "oh saph. [another RA in the building] is looking for you."

and me, of course, didnt bring my phone to the res life office so i didnt know this.

i go up to the second floor and see one of the RAs from the second floor and another from one of the other buildings working on a bulletin board. they say "oh saph. [the same RA in the building] is looking for you."

i run up to my dorm and discover that somehow we missed the bulletin board by the downstairs elevator. seriously there's too fucking many bulletin boards. and they were asking me to do it. because they wanted to put covid policies on it.

and i know i said this story was about axe body spray. and it is. we are getting there.

so panic sets in because its 10pm and i still have two whole bulletin boards to make now. one of which i have nothing planned for. so i threw some soup in the microwave (because i had forgotten that dinner existed) and opened my laptop.

thankfully, i could reuse some of the same stuff from my own covid policies board in my common room. i just had to print it. which meant, yep you guessed it, another trip back to the res life office!!

at this point i think i had taken a grand total of at least 7 trips to the res life office that day alone. its a good 5 minute walk. not terrible, but just annoying enough that you hate yourself a little more every time that you have to do it. and now its 10:30pm. i am starving. i have two boards to complete. it was crunch time.

i make it to the office and this time i had no time to sit around and debate how popular l.l. bean is. i had policies to print and letters to cut.

as im struggling with the printer (because those fucking things can smell fear), someone else in the office starts loudly discussing timothee chalamet.

and now, this is where you want to actually pay attention because this man would be the reason i ended up only getting 4.5 hours of sleep.

said man in question is quite the character. he's in my grade and im pretty sure he's a polisci major (and maybe creative writing? there's some kind of writing) and he plays lacrosse. i dont really know how to describe him other than the fact that the first interaction i ever had with him was two years ago at freshman orientation when he complained to me in the dining hall that there was no milk for his protein powder.

that interaction is in my top 10 favorite interactions ive had in college.

but the one we are about to unpack definitely takes all of the cake.

so here i am, struggling with the printer and my tiny knock off dongle. the other RA on my floor starts discussing timothee chalamet's outfits with the protein powder RA.

and so apparently the protein powder RA worked in some major fashion designer brand corporate something or other thing over the pandemic. he told me which one but i was so shot and only thinking in construction paper and glue and staples that i didnt process any of it. but it was a fancy one. the store that is.

and so here's what happened:

me: "timothee chalamet? isn't he like, 17?"

protein powder RA and the other RA on my floor: "nah he's like 25. ive checked."

yet another RA: "yeah i just googled it."

me, a wimbo: "oh im thinking of finn wolfhard. but i dont think he's 17 either."

listen before you slam me, remember it is like 11pm and i have to still do 2 bulletin boards and we have training at 9am the next morning.

so protein powder RA pulls up some photo of timothee chalamet and starts telling me about all the brands he's wearing and i literally said "i understand all of the words that you're saying separately."

and he said "exactly!! he's just so great that when you put it all together you can't understand it!! he's just too perfect!!"

and the i made a detrimental decision.

there is life before this decision and life after.

i said "well. bring your fashion designer knowledge into the lounge and help me decide what color to cut my letters."

and he said okay.

so after severely debating the different color purples that we had and listening to the finer points of the fashion industry, i noticed something important.

he smelled like axe body spray.

see i bet you thought i forgot the point of the story. i did not.

let it be known that we are juniors in college (that's 20-21 years old if you dont know). axe is very common in middle and high school boys locker rooms. i have vivid memories of avoiding that hallway so i wouldn't be choked.

so im trying not to inhale too deeply because the smell has permeated my mask as i cut my "covid safety" letters in the color this man has dubbed "light lilac" and half listening to him talk about the fashion industry.

but i finish quickly, somehow escape the smell of axe, and grab my laptop and print outs before tagging along with the same protein powder RA and the other lax player RA back to the dorms. its now 11:15 pm. i still have 2 bulletin boards to complete. my soup is sitting in my microwave in my dorm, almost forgotten about.

halfway back from the office i realize that i forgot my dongle. i say so out loud and protein power RA says that he will go back and look because he's just that guy who likes to help. i say okay fine. and i sprint to my dorm building, drop the print outs and letters downstairs for later, and start the sloth board.

several minutes later, my soup has been inhaled, my papers glued, a sloth cut out, and im sitting in a mess of construction paper and staples in the hallway when i get a text from protein powder RA that quite simply said:

"its not there. do you need help with your boards?"

and me, being me, because i am exhausted and in need of company, say "yeah sure."

by the time he finally shows up, he's changed his outfit.

as a side note, every time ive seen this man during the last 5 days of training, he's been wearing a different outfit. oh and he works for lulu lemon. forgot to mention that.

but alas, here he came, holding my papers and reeking of axe as he walked down the hall to me, who is failing to staple a sloth to my bulletin board.

so for the next two hours i did my boards and he sat and talked. he wasn't physically helping me, but he was helping me stay awake, cause this man is a ball of fucking energy, and that was very important.

i only remember about half of what he said but essentially he was talking about how he was trying to be a better person than the one that he was freshman year. which is admirable. but he does still reek of axe.

at around 1 am i finished my last board and went upstairs to clean up. he came with me and sat on the floor and continued to talk while i cleaned up my disaster of paper and staples and glue among other things. at this point i was so relieved that i had finished that i was actually able to engage in the conversation, which was surprisingly deep and interesting.

and then. its about 1:45 am. i am about to wash my dishes so i can shower and go to bed. because remember that i need to be at training at 9 am the next morning.

and he says something about trying to be a better person again. and me, in all my sleep deprived glory, says:

drum roll

"and yet you still wear axe body spray."

and all hell broke loose.

i would like to preface by saying that he freaked out in a very joking matter and was not actually mad at me. but he was definitely disappointed and in shock. the next hour pretty much consisted of:

"are you kidding me? this is prada something something cologne and all these celebrities wear it!! how dare- it could not POSSIBLY SMELL LIKE AXE!!! well i guess its a little dry and axe is kind of dry smelling...bUT I SPENT SO MUCH ON THIS BOTTLE and the lady sold me on the larger one and it was like 150 bucks and UGH i cannot smell like axe! you know i got four compliments on how i smelled today??! and you're telling me i smell like fucking- *sniffs shirt* no! there's no way!! well i mean... no i cannot. i cannot smell like designer axe. damnit saph! im gonna have to sell this whole bottle now cause i can't use it! BUT ITS PRADA!!"

for an hour.

but it was very entertaining.

eventually i dragged him to the common room cause i needed to do my dishes and sleep and he continued ranting about it there, going as far as to call his best friend (who was asleep) and another RA and ask them if he smelled like axe. i meanwhile was laughing my ass off and 12 kinds of tired but couldn't find it in myself to care.

eventually he decided he needed yet another opinion. so he went to find the other RA on my floor, which, if you remember, is the same one who was thirsting over timothee chalamet with him in the res life office all of those fateful hours before. but that RA was nowhere to be found. so he ran down to the common room below us and scared the shit out of three freshmen.

and he asked these freshmen if he smelled like axe.

the answer was yes.

after that he left because it was 2:30 in the morning, and all the while he was yelling about how he was going to come to training tomorrow with different shirts with all his different colognes on them and have me sniff them because he couldn't smell like designer axe.

and i did the only logical thing. went upstairs to my my dorm and made him a door deck that looked like a bottle of axe that had a post it on the front that said "designer."

and so. now you all know not to buy cologne because its expensive because there's a good chance it will just end up smelling like axe.

and i didn't get to smell his other colognes because i almost passed out in training and left to take a nap. but maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

we’ve been dating for a year and seven months and just graduated college :) and in a fun twist of events, prada no longer makes that cologne anymore.

#not a tag #from saph #designer axe #saph and brad origin #bless

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castieltrash1 · 9 months

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I'm desperate for any content with Driver or K, maybe just how'd they treat you as their partner? Love your work!!

driver is a bit of a chameleon boyfriend. he’s used to blending in and attracting as little attention as possible, which extends to his personal life. whatever you’re interested in, so is he. if you like to eat somewhere, he’ll suggest that place every time you mention being hungry. as long as you are happy, that’s all that really matters to him. if you want to plan dates, he’ll follow your schedule down to the second. and if you’re more spontaneous, he’ll have his jacket and car keys nearby to take you wherever you want.

he’s protective, of course, but he also loves seeing you be successful in whatever endeavors you pursue in life. whether that’s a mundane 9-5 or a niche passion that doesn’t pay the bills, he will cheer you on for every milestone you cross. ideally, he’d take care of you in every way that matters (financially, emotionally, mentally, physically, etc.) but he doesn’t want to stifle you, either. that doesn’t mean he won’t silently fix any of your problems behind your back, though! bitchy manager bothering you? you’ll never believe it, but she switched locations! low on rent? you must’ve forgotten those couple hundred dollar bills you left haphazardly tucked between your mattress! too tired to cook dinner? well, your boyfriend just texted saying he’s off work and would love to grab something and swing by your place to eat!

safe to say, one of his love languages is acts of service. including the ones you don’t know about, he takes care of every problem in your life. he’ll catch every bug, fix every leaky sink, install your new curtains, reconnect your router, change your oil, etc. speaking of cars, if you’re insistent on driving yourself everywhere, driver will check your car every five seconds to make sure it’s safe.

+ driver isn’t big on pda, but if you’ve just arrived or are leaving, he will pout without a kiss hello or goodbye. if you forget (or purposely avoid for the sake of teasing) either, he’ll follow you, grab your wrist, and use his other hand to hold your jaw steady while he kisses you. only then will he smile, let go, and pretend nothing happened.

OFFICER K UNDER THE CUT!

k can be insecure, sometimes. he knows it’s already hard enough dating a replicant, but his dangerous job doesn’t make it any easier. all he has to offer you is his plain apartment and the nights he’s not working, neither of which he finds particularly appealing. he’s not really sure why you like him, but he’ll be damned if he gives you any reason to break it off. every second that he can devote to you, he does.

since he’s out in the city most of the time, k enjoys spending time indoors. of course, if you want to go anywhere while he’s home, he’ll be stuck to your side like glue, glaring at anyone who even gives you a second glance. but, what he loves most of all is curling up beside you and listening to the rainfall. nothing makes him feel more human than doing nothing for the sole purpose of it. he’s made to perform tasks, so there’s something rebellious about enjoying the silence of your apartment, counting each beat of your heart, and feeling the warmth of your skin against the synthetic of his. knowing that he doesn’t have to service you or offer anything for you to want to spend time with him makes him ecstatic.

while k can’t afford lavish gifts or, really, much at all, he does come into contact with a large collection of rare items at work. he’s always excited to bring evidence home since he knows you’ll get a kick out of seeing and touching a real flower or piece of wood. while the scarcity of the item intrigues him, he doesn’t have the same desire to connect to humanity’s past the way you, understandably, do. where he sees just another part of an ongoing case, you see years of ancestry and a forgotten world. secretly, the excited glint in your eyes has started to make him feel something similar.

+ k loves pet names. the first time you called him babe/baby, he stilled and stared at you in shock. he’d heard humans referring to other humans that way, but the names people usually called him were very different. whenever you call him a pet name, he smiles, almost unconsciously. he’s tried every combination of affection terms with you, but his favorites are the personalized ones that he knows no one else ever has or ever will call you. they remind him that, for now, at least, you’re entirely his. when you use them in return, he feels unique, like a human. he feels like he finally has a real name. out of the well-known ones, however, k’s favorites are sweetheart, dear, flower, and pretty. flower and other pet names based on things that are now rare feel especially fitting to him, since someone “as perfect as you is hard to find.”

gosling sleepover sunday

#driver x reader #drive #ryan gosling #officer k x reader #blade runner 2049 #blade runner 2049 imagine #officer k #officer k fluff #blade runner #blade runner fluff #drive fluff #answered #anonymous #t: writing

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washy0uaway · 7 months

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Kiss City Pt. 1

Series Masterlist | Part 2 here<3

A/N: Prefacing this by saying this is my first ever fic attempt that I'm very excited to share with this lil corner of the world :) This pairing was originally inspired by the song Kiss City by Blondshell (cause that shit is Frankie coded forreal - we'll get there, I promise). Pls be kind! Very open to feedback, etc. - I have no idea where this series will go, but my plan is to just have fun with it <;3 Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: You weren't expecting to sleep through your alarms the morning of a massive presentation you'd been prepping for your boss. You also weren't expecting to get rear-ended on your drive into the office. You definitely weren't planning on spilling your coffee all over your new blouse. But the thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie. Warnings: eventual 18+ / MDNI!!! car crash, fainting. -------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit,” you mustered under your breath as you dropped your keys, fumbling to lock your front door before leaving for work. It was barely past 9:00am and you could already tell it was going to be… a day. It had started by sleeping through your alarm, waking up frantically after quickly realizing you had to make yourself presentable and be out the door in less than twenty minutes.

You had spent the night prior awake much past your bedtime, spending hours finishing a massive presentation for the CEO of the marketing company you worked for. It was fairly unrewarding work, but it paid well. Your boss’s and coworkers were all around your age, fun, and easy to work with. The laidback attitude of the company lends itself to the idea of stopping for Starbucks on your way into the office - you could swing being another 5 minutes late. Really, you know you wouldn’t be able to fight the still present exhaustion without at least 3 shots of espresso in your system, stat.

After ordering your latte (with an extra shot of espresso), along with an Iced Tea for your office coordinator and self proclaimed “work bestie,” Liz, you peeled out of the drive thru and were on your way. That is, until you weren’t.

It happened quickly, as you were approaching a green light. The signal turned yellow, with your car not yet in the intersection, bordering the line of acceptable to just drive through it. “Getting pulled over would take longer than waiting at this stop light,” you thought to yourself as you quickly brought your car to a stop.

Before you knew it, your forehead was ricocheting off your steering wheel and the full latte you were actively sipping was now drenching your new, white top and burning your skin. It took you a moment to realize what had just happened, glancing in your rear view mirror trying to catch an initial glance at the asshole who had just rear-ended you. After rolling down your window, you motioned to the culprit with your arm that you would be pulling to the adjacent strip mall parking lot, praying they would have the decency to not speed off.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you whispered to yourself as you unbuckled your seatbelt, fuming at the circumstance and cursing the universe for reinforcing the fact that this really, was just not your day.

The pickup truck that trailed behind you luckily didn’t seem too damaged, leading you to hope your car wasn’t in worse shape. You swung your car door open and stepped out with a huff. “Seriously, dude? What the fuck?” you borderline yelled the direction of the pickup as you heard its driver follow suit in stepping out of their car.

You hear him before you see him, a low pitched voice saying, “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” as he quickly strides from behind the truck. If you hadn’t been enraged, you would have dropped your jaw at the sight of him.

He’s a tall, broad man, in faded black jeans and a dangerously fitted dark green tshirt. What seems to be a head of thick dark curls is hidden under a visibly well loved baseball cap, and the perfect amount of facial hair to match peppers his face. He has dark eyes you could swim in - they meet yours as he asks if you’re okay a second time.

“Who, me?” You retort sarcastically. “Yeah, I’m great. I really woke up this morning and thought it would be a good day to spend drenched in espresso in the FedEx parking lot.” He lets out a laugh to try and ease the tension and my god, does it work. “God, I’m so sorry,” the stranger continues with one hand in his pocket, the other tightly grasping the back of this neck. “My kid’s daycare was calling, I dropped the phone and apparently I'm the dumbass who thought he could reach it below the passenger seat. Took my eyes off the road for half a second, I swear.” The mention of his kid surprises you, and your hormone driven brain is curious after noticing he’s not wearing a ring.

“Well, dumbass, at least your truck doesn’t look too damaged.” His face drops as he glances over your shoulder, “Yeah, yours though..”

You hadn’t had a second to assess the damage, quickly whipping around to the wreckage. “No no no!” you exclaim as you rush closer to your very mangled car. He’s quickly hovering above as you’re crouching at your bumper, already asking if he can call you a tow truck or give you a ride. His glance wanders down to your freshly soaked crop top, and you take no notice of him blatantly checking you out. You don’t respond to his questions, instead letting a long sigh escape your mouth as you rest your face in your hands, now fully sitting on the ground.

“Seriously,” he says pointedly, regaining your attention. “This is my fault, let me take you wherever you were headed. I have a good buddy who owns a shop not far from here, I’ll give him a call and have ‘em send a tow out.” He’s now crouched down to your level, and you suddenly feel his intense gaze on you waiting for a response.

A long moment of silence passes before you finally give in. “Fine.” Turning your head his direction, he’s already standing back up and reaching out a hand to help you up.

As he pulls his phone from his back pocket to call the shop, you introduce yourself and offer him your name. He’s instantly looking up from his phone to see you shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and glancing toward the ground. When he holds out his hand to shake, your eyes meet again. His features are now much softer and more relaxed, and a kind but shy smile is slowly spreading across his face. You can see in his eyes that he has a big heart. One you wouldn’t mind getting to know better, at that.

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m not sure now’s a good time,” he jokes. You take his hand, much larger than yours, in a firm shake, both of you holding on just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m Frankie.”

Frankie call his 'buddy' (Benny, you gather, after overhearing his conversation) and confirms they'll send a tow truck your way. "You owe me one, pendejo," he pleads into the phone. You call your office next to let them know you'll be even later than planned. After assuring you it's not necessary to stay and wait for the tow truck, he opens the passenger door of his truck and offers you his hand to help you inside. I could get used to that, you catch yourself thinking.

Once you're situated in the truck, Frankie enters your office's address into the GPS on his phone. As he puts the truck in reverse, his right arm has braced itself on your headrest. His eyes cross your face for a mere second before he's suddenly slamming on the brakes, jolting you in your seatbelt for the second time this morning.

"Jesus man, are you trying to kill me?!" "Shit, sorry it's just - are you sure you're okay? Your forehead..." His eyes narrow as he glances above your right eyebrow. Instantly, you're pulling the visor in front of you down and sliding the small mirror open. Lo and behold, you're sporting a swelling lump on your forehead that's already started to bruise. As if on cue, your head starts to pound. "Dammit," you sigh, gently touching your forehead "I guess I hit the steering wheel harder than I thought." "Yeah, no kidding. Can I take you somewhere to get checked out? Make sure you're okay?" "What, have someone tell me to ice it just so they can bill me god knows how much?" You turn to look at Frankie, and notice his eyes are trying to hide worry. "Thanks, but that's really not necessary." He hesitantly concedes and you're (finally) on your way to work. It's a fairly quiet drive. Frankie asks you about your job and hums along to the song playing through the stereo to fill the silence. Girl from the North Country by Bob Dylan, you recognize it almost instantly.

"You have good taste," you almost smirk and glance his way, causing him to wring the back of his neck again. Must be something he does when he's nervous, you note to yourself, picking up on his anxious demeanor as his free hand grips the wheel slightly tighter. "You like Dylan?" he asks, turning the volume up. "Of course. My dad raised me on him - that was my first concert, actually. I grew up in Michigan, and he'd always joke I'd be someone's 'Girl from the North Country' someday." You realize you're rambling and cut yourself off from digging a deeper hole of embarrassment, "Sorry... saying I 'like' Bob Dylan is an understatement." "Nothing to apologize for," he glances over at you with a shy smile, "except maybe comparing my taste in music to your Dad's." This makes you chuckle, and his eyes are still locked on you - you hardly notice his staring until the stoplight turns green and the car ahead of you speeds off. "Hey man, have we learned nothing this morning?" you look over to see him already focused on you, and can't fight the blush you're aware has to be creeping over your cheeks. "Stay with me, Frankie!" you exclaim as you snap your fingers in the direction of the road. "Gladly." he whispers, nearly inaudibly. A few seconds pass, and you're not convinced he'd said anything at all. The shyness and anxiety take hold as he pulls in front of your downtown office building. Before you can even register that you haven't exchanged phone numbers, insurance information, or even asked the name of the shop towing your car, you're opening the passenger door, tossing a quick "Thanks for the ride!" over your shoulder and hopping down from the truck. With a quick pace, you're walking to the front door when you hear Frankie call your name. "Y/n! Wait!" You notice first that his voice sounds distant - muffled, even. Next, you realize you've fully halted your jaunt inside. Your feet are no longer moving beneath you, and your vision starts to go blurry. "You left your..." Frankie's voice trails off as you lose consciousness entirely, and your knees buckle beneath you.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #fanfic #triple frontier fanfic

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blouisparadise · 6 months

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Leave My Heart Open | Explicit | 1,587 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Zayn Malik.

Louis is gorgeous. There’s no room for doubt. But he’s looking at Zayn like he wants to devour him, and Zayn would be kidding himself if that kind of intense focus didn’t scare him a bit.

2) Attention | Mature | 3,629 words

The fact that Harry said "I want you ready for me" not only meant that she had to look pretty, but it was more about the fact that he needed her lubricated, dilated and preferably without underwear to make things easier. Louis was aware that maybe she was in for some rough sex in her husband's office after so much provocation and that was just what she wanted.

3) You Wrap Around Me and You Give Me Life | Explicit | 4,778 words

Louis cockwarms Harry in his office and decides that he's bored enough and begins to ride him without his permission. Harry has other plans to pleasure his bratty boyfriend.

4) Naughty Little Elf | Explicit | 5,231 words

Harry is busy and Louis is supposed to be helping him. He's not.

5) Pilot | Teen & Up | 5,279 words