#I’ll probably sell print of it :] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilfl0v3rss · 2 years ago

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Omg plug Connie and him teaching his suburban princess his ways😩😮‍💨

here we gooooo🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

“wake up fat butt. taking you t’school today.” connie mumbled, tapping your ass lightly until you opened your eyes. you gave your boyfriend a death stare as you sat up and scratched your head. bonnet nowhere to be found as you were previously sleeping peaceful in your boyfriends tee shirt. “what?” “you wanted to learn more about what i do so you gon be my partner for the day since ony at his family renunion.”

your brown doe eyes widened in excitement as you hugged your boyfriends lower half from the bed. cheek pressed against his print in his boxers as you mumbled a bunch of “thank yous”. you’ve been begging connie for weeks to show you more of what he does, but he’d always tell you he didn’t want you in that type of work. it took a little convincing,but he finally agreed after you did some “handiwork” a handjob. now you’re here, learning your first lesson.

lesson one: weighing and packaging the weed

“no no no mami you gotta weigh it before you bag ittt” connie sighed as he turned the bag of weed upside down. letting the herb fall back onto table. “i did connn. the thingy had a three and a five before i put it in the baggy” long acrylic nail pointing to the small scale as you whined to your boyfriend. “three point five princesa ay dios mío. the ‘thingy’ gotta have a dot in between the three and the five.”

your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. “ohhhh okay okay okay. lemme try again” you began picking up the pieces of weed and placing them on the scale. watching carefully until the desired weight showed before putting them in the pretty pink bag and sealing it up. “doneee!” connie lifted his head from his phone, taking the small baggy from your hands before he turned it left and right.

he looked closely for any mistakes with the packaging, but he found none. it was “perfect baby. good job” connie rewarded with you a kiss on the forehead before handing you another bag. “now you got about forty more to do and you gon go mobile wit me.” connie chuckled at your loud gasp as you smiled to your yourself. “wanna shoot your gun” you mumbled as you continued weighing another pile. “whatchu say?” “huh? nothing papa. m’working”

lesson two: selling the product

his lips curved into a smile as he watched you hum your favorite song. brown eyes studying the nature outside the passenger window while your pretty fingers stroked connie hand that was on your thigh. connie’s first group of clients were college students. usually needed a quick blunt in the morning to calm their nerves before their day starts. as he approached his usual parking spot for selling, he let go of your thigh to lay his glock on his lap. “got my princess wit me so i gotta be extra careful”

his words made your stomach flip as you looked at the weapon laid on his sweatpants. “can you teach me how t’shoot it?” your eyes widened in hope as you watched your boyfriend tilt his head back, thinking of whether or not he should teach you. it would be good for you to protect yourself, but with him almost always around you would rarely need to. plus if you weren’t with him, you were with friends so you’ll never really be alone. “i’ll think about it ma” he mumbled before nodding his head towards your window.

you didn’t get the chance to dwell on his words as you watched the college boy, probably from some type of fraternity, walking towards the car. hat on backwards, covering his blonde hair while his shirt sat way too tight on his chest. his khaki shorts rested evenly on his hips as he shamelessly tried to look all up in connie’s window. “c dawgggg. wassup man?” connie rolled his eyes, already annoyed with the loud mouthed man at his window. connie nodded his head while saying hey before asking what it was the guy needed. "since im throwing tonight ima need a zip. finals been kicked everyone's ass and now that they're over, it's time to celebrate!”

connie turned towards you, eyeing your figure in your pretty skirt before a smirk planted on his lips. "you heard em mama" you nodded your head before reaching into the backseat for your boyfriends heavy duffel bag full of drugs. connie watched your skirt begin to ride up your ass so he made sure to block the guys view with his body until you finished. you sat the bag in your lap, digging through the different packages of weed until you found two bags. one was a little smaller than the other which confused you because you forgot if an ounce was the larger size or the smaller one. "uhhhh im kinda in a rush" the boy said before connie gave him a deadly stare, signaling for him to shut the fuck up.

you lifted your head up expecting to see the impatient client, but connie blocked your view with his head, giving you a calm smile and a nod for you to take your time. "i-i don't remember which one it is." he rested his hand on your lap. "think ma. if you get it right i'll buy you a new bag." your eyes lit up at the offer. you began to think back to when you were packaging the weed at the house, eventually handing him the larger bag. connie smiled as he lightly took it from your pretty hands. he held his hand out to the guy, waiting for him to pay up. after he paid connie handed him the bag.

"uhh why’s it pink..” connie rolled his eyes in irritation. why can’t he just take the weed and go. “my partner worked hard weighing and baggin that shit. this her product and you gon cop it and be happy wit it, you heard?” the guy lifted his hands in his defense before giving connie a nervous smile. “alright a-alright man thanks. t-tell your new partner i said thanks too." connie rolled up his window before turning towards you. “how i do papi?” your pretty smile making butterflies appear in his stomach before he leaned over and to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips. "did good mama. we gon stay here for a little bit then go to my other stops for my other clients ‘kay?” connie smiled as he watched you excitedly nod your head. lip tucked behind your teeth as you mindlessly played on your phone.

lesson three: counting and distributing the money

after the two of you finished, connie took you to your final destination before taking you home, the trap house. the smell of weed was pungent as you walked deeper and deeper in, stopping when you seen him take a seat at the dining room table. “come” he said while patting his lap. you sat down without complaint before connie pulled out a a couple stacks of cash. the two of you sold to a lot of people, but you weren’t really paying attention much to how much they were paying, only really worrying about giving the right size baggy. it must’ve been a really good day though because by the time you finished every single bag was sold. he had some good shit.

“you made all this in one dayyyy?” brown eyes wide as you stared at the bills in disbelief. connie’s arm tightened around your middle before he chuckled. “not just me mami” before you knew it your boyfriend separated the stacks evenly, sliding the other half in front of you before beginning to count the money he had left. “gon head pretty. count your cut” you eagerly took the money, long nails clanking together as you tried to quickly count the different bills. “what’s the third one for?” you eyed the third pile of money that sat next to connie. it looked about the same size as the both of yours. “my brother”

before you could speak the sound of a loud engine approaching the house cut you off. then in walked your boyfriend’s “brother” ony. a bag holding four to go plates in his hand as he typed away on his phone. “i know m’hella late gettin here” he mumbled as he mindlessly kicked the door closed behind him. he hasn’t looked up at you yet, still focused on his phone so he kept speaking as if you weren’t there. “just got the meanest head from kiki. swear that woman could suck a watermelon through a straw. had to block her tho cause i can’t be cuffing no bitch that be aight wit sucking dick in my granny room. nasty lil th-”

he finally looked up from his screen, eyes widening in shock as he looked at you and connie giggling in the dining room. “man why you ain’t tell me you brought her hereeee” he fake whined as he walked up to the two of you. giving you a peck on the cheek before dapping connie up. you raised your eyebrow at him before connie replied. “this why she wont let you get a date wit her sister bro” connie chuckled as he watched ony place his hand on his heart. ony had been asking you for months to set up a date with him and your sister, but you tell him all the time that you’d never willingly put any woman in your family through that, knowing his promiscuous lifestyle.

“sis i swear ima good man. if she ever text me back the rest of them girls gettin dropped on god.” you rolled your eyes, playfully scoffing before you caught sight of the stack of money that was for him. “yea whateverrrr” you said before nodding your head towards the money. “shit, thank you ma. this yours hermano” connie grabbed the stack and handed it to ony before also sliding him the empty duffle bag for him to fill with new product. “good looks. so how was it suge? like being a lil plug?”

you smiled as you shrugged your shoulders. mind wandering to the multiple events that went on today. “hmmm it was aight. i liked packing the weed up. oh and connie let me use pretty pink bags to put them innn.” connie smiled up at you, tickling your side before nodding his head towards the white bag ony placed on the table. “hope one of them plates is for me. if you can’t break bread you fake” ony chuckled before opening up the bag and handing him two of the plates. “got two plates of food and two plates of sweet shit that nanna made. ian know you was coming sis but you know i would’ve got you one.” you shrugged your shoulders before getting up from connie’s lap, taking the plate of food towards the microwave for him.

“it’s good connie gon share” your boyfriend shook his head at you. mumbling to himself as pulled out his phone. “cant have shit in this house” him and ony began to chuckle as your face turn into one of annoyance. you walked back towards him. swiftly plucking connie on the back of the head before laying his plate in front of him. “ay! mujer loca” he said while rubbing his “sore” head. ony continued to laugh while he walked towards the kitchen to heat up his food next. “hurry up and get married so i can get a niece. wanna take her t’disney and buy her dolls and shit.”

ony refused to even think about having kids of his own unless it was with the right woman. and since he doesn’t feel like he’s found her yet he plans on living his dream of spoiling a little princess through you and connie. the two of you laughed before waiting for him to sit back down with his plate so you can eat as a “family”. when he finally sat down, he immediately started rolling his eyes. “y’all laughing, but m’dead serious. have my niece” you playfully slapped his arm before beginning to eat your food. “don’t got time for kids right now. i’m a big time drug dealer.” connie nearly choked on his food when he heard your words, making the three of you laugh as you continued to eat together.

“just for today mami. tomorrow you my suburban princess again”

#aot x black reader #aot #aot connie #connie springer #x black reader #connie x black!reader #connie x black reader #connie springer x black!reader #connie springer x black reader #connie x y/n #connie x black y/n

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eddiesvixen · 4 days ago

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If You Want Blood (You Got It)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲 (𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 (𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀), 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗴𝘆𝗻𝘆, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘀, 𝗻𝘂𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟱.𝟰𝗸

the second chapter of Open Til Midnight

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The faucet leaks in the restroom as you finish your eyeliner in the mirror. This saturday morning you made no time to do your makeup at home given you didn’t get much sleep. You just keep seeing that hold print in your head. That ugly shade of orange from that sheet of paper.

Closing the Empire

due to purchase

Nine Thousand Dollars

a new environment for educational purposes

provocative musical acts

Fuck You, Larry Bassinger.

To sell Empire is to sell your soul. The blood, sweat, tears, hard work, art, albums, dents, scratches, carpet fuzz, pins.. everything you and your friends, your family put into Empire, all gone. Turned into something completely contradictory. Provocative musical acts?! What the hell did that even mean?

Knock, Knock.

“I’m in here.” You call out to whoever it is.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

You open the door to see Eddie standing there. He didn’t get much sleep either and honestly you both hadn’t spoken much in the van ride here today. He holds up two coffee cups.

“Since it’s too early for a Jolt.” He forces a small grin for you.

You groan. “Damn i’d kill for a jolt. My eyes haven’t felt this heavy since we snuck out to that Overkill concert in ‘81.”

This time Eddie actually smiles. “Oh you were a complete mess, princess.”

“Come on it wasn’t that bad.” You sip your coffee, grateful that Eddie always gets your order perfect.

“I remember having to carry a certain girl to the van because she got so wasted she couldn’t even walk straight.” He grins, grateful that his comment got you to laugh.

“You know what? It’s your fault for even buying the tickets.”

“Well you had turned 16. I know it was a month late but admit it, best birthday gift you ever had.”

“Best concert memory I have.” You smile at him and he returns one as well.

“Many more to come, sweetheart.” He sips his coffee and runs a hand through his messy curls. “Ready to get out there?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you up front.”

He nods, giving you a shoulder squeeze before leaving the restroom. You straighten up and fix your hair one last time before walking into the backroom and putting your lanyard around your neck.

“Yeesh. Yoga pants? Are you okay?” Robin says from the bulletin board, hanging up a flyer.

“Uh, yeah. Just.. my period.” You were quick to make up a lie.

“Damn. I have some Tylenol in my locker if you need it.”

You smile, loving how Robin has pretty much an entire survival kit in her locker. “I’ll be okay for now, but thanks.”

When Hopper’s office door opens, you both look up. You feel a bit shaken with how he says your name.

“My office. Now.”

Robin looks at you and you shake your head. When he walks back into his office she runs over to you.

“Something happen last night?”

“Probably just left a door unlocked or something.”

She raises a brow. You can be rebellious sometimes but never irresponsible. Not with Empire. But before she can ask you’ve already walked into his office, closing the door.

“Hey Hop-“

“Jim. You call me Jim, now sit.”

Well that’s odd. You sit.

“Just got a call from Larry.”

Shit.

“Do you know who Larry is?”

“No sir.”

“Larry. Larry is my boss. The very man who sold me this store. Larry helps with our funding, our sales, our publicity. Larry is the reason we get an ad in the city newspaper. Larry takes the money we earn, doubles it, cashes it out into our checks and uses the rest to help buy us more music. Larry could not do any of that last night. Do you know why?”

Shit.

“The money.”

He takes a deep, frustrated breath before placing the cash pouch on his desk. “Why didn’t you take money to the bank?”

“I forgot.” You’re quick with your answer, but so is Jim.

“Don’t.” He knows you. You never forget. You never even leave the store until everything is perfect for the next day. “Tell me the truth.”

You sigh. “Bassinger Library and Cafe.” You say it with an angered frown, the same one Hop’s face morphs into once he hears you say it. “I saw the paper in your drawer. Me and Eddie.”

“Does anyone else know?” He says it as less of a question, more of a ‘Please tell me no one else knows.’

“No.”

“Listen-“

“Hop, why? Why would you keep this from us?”

“You think I like this? You think I wanna sell this place? Think i’d ever let you down?”

“That’s in seven days Hop, Seven!”

“Calm down.” He nods at you and you sigh, shaking your head.

“You can’t just let him win.”

“I’m doing my best. I didn’t tell you because if this works, if it works.. you never would’ve known this place was ever at cost.” He runs his hand through his hair, more stressed about the situation than you thought. He’s usually so tough, big and bad Jim Hopper but right now even he seems shaken.

“If what works?”

He stands up and goes to the vent, pulling off the hatch and taking out a red envelope. He walks back over to the desk and hands it to you. When you open it you can’t believe your eyes as you pull out the cash.

He tosses the navy blue apron onto the table, the logo in bold cursive. Bassinger’s Cafe and Library.

“Three thousand four hundred and thirty seven dollars. That’s how much me and Joyce have saved up since I got that letter 3 months ago.”

Three months. He hid this from you all when you celebrated Will’s birthday. He was hiding it when you went bowling, when you hit the record of selling your ten thousandth cd in the store. He hid it when you framed Jonathan’s first magazine published photo in the front of the store.

All of these happy memories over the past three months, and he hid this from you. No. He protected you.

“Hop-“

“I’m trying my best. We have done the best we can do. But the man always wins. Always.” He looks at you and you don’t know if you want to cry or rage.

“We have to try, Hop. This may be his property but it’s our store, our home.”

“We’ll never make ten thousand by the end of the week.”

“We have to try! Don’t I get a say?! Don’t any of us get a say?! I can’t just sit back and watch this happen!”

It’s all you did when your parents argued and fought, when your dad left you in that house with your mom and she paid bills by selling her body, when your friends got beat up by jocks in high school as one held you back. You sat there and watched. You had no choice. Just as Hopper’s telling you now.

“I have done all I can do. This is it.” He grits his teeth and runs his hands over his face.

“Bullshit!” You glare at him and shake your head. “It’s not too late and he doesn’t get the only say! We can’t just-“

“I said this is it!” He slams his fist against the desk and you glare at him. Angry and yet, sad. He never yells at you, any of you. But with both of you being so frustrated about the store, it’s come down to this.

He softens his voice. “I’m sorry kid.”

You frown and sit his envelope back on the desk. You nod and stand up, walking out of his office.

~~~~~

Three thousand four hundred and thirty seven dollars

That’s a lot of money, but not enough.

Six thousand five hundred and sixty three dollars..

That’s how much more you need to save Empire before it could become something so.. shitty. Instead of rustic wood and vinyls, you’d smell coffee and matcha. No more Poison over the speakers, just a slow jazz. No more colorful walls and decorative rugs with the fuzzy layers, just a boring plain blue.

And as much as you fought it, you can’t be angry with Hopper. He’s done his best, he has shown you all you have. And it wasn’t enough. Nothing’s ever enough.

“Excuse me!” The man almost yells in your face.

“So sorry.” You stand up straighter, completely sunk into your thoughts not remembering your place at the register.

“I bet you are. Just ring these up please?” He sits his cds on the counter.

Brown rugged hair, way too many tattoos, a beer gut, piercing evil green eyes, a rugged beard that touches his chest, which is also way too hairy and peeking out of his gym shirt. You’ve met this type before. Your mother had guests like him all the time.

“Sure.” You nod, scanning the cds, wanting to hurry this exchange. You scan his cds and a hand slips by your side, looking for a marker.

“Sorry.” Jonathan says as he grabs the sharpie and starts to write on the smaller boxes. Orders to ship off for mail.

You sigh when you open a cd case that feels too light. You open the Beastie Boys case to see that the cd is missing. “Um, Jonathan could you grab me another Licensed to Ill?”

Jonathan nods and walks off, but the customer is annoyed. “What’s the problem?”

“The cd in this case is missing.”

“What are you saying I stole it?” He snarls.

“No sir, my coworker’s just-“

“Checking the cameras? What, do I look like a fucking thief?!” He snaps, and that immediately catches the attention of Jonathan, and half the store.

When Eddie hears your voice and a man screaming after it, he stands up from organizing the folk vinyls and his eyes lock on you. He knows you were upset earlier and by the look of your face and the way you’re gripping the counter, you’re seconds away from cursing this man out. He rushes to you.

“Is there an issue here?” Eddie says as he walks up behind you.

You take a deep breath. “No, this gentleman just needs a new-“

“A new cd.” Jonathan nods and scans it, sitting it down on the counter. The man glares at him but fishes into his pocket for cash anyways.

Eddie leans forward and whispers into your ear. “Let me handle him, you go take ten, yeah?”

You nod. You don’t speak because you know if you do you might actually lose your job. You walk off into the break room.

The guy rolls his eyes as he hands Eddie the cash, Jonathan watching discreetly as he finishes up on signing the order packages.

“What’s the return policy on these?”

Eddie puts the cash into the register and shakes his head. “For returning customers, thirty days. For you? Never.”

He glares as Eddie places the receipt in the bag.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You’re not welcome here anymore.” Jonathan clarifies for the smartass in front of him and Eddie.

“The fuck is this?” The guy glares at them, offended.

“Maybe next time learn to respect the women who help your sorry ass find the Beastie Boys.” Eddie says with a smug smirk.

The guy looks like he wants a fight but before he could raise up, Hopper walks up.

“Pete Aggerton. Right? You work at the auto shop by that mini dive bar. You know, the one with the shitty tools and shit service.”

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to speak up.

“You leave my storm, take your damn cds and never show your face here again, or I’ll have the police come there and tell them about your little hit and run incident near that playground. Think your wife wants to hear about another dui?”

He looks down on the man and he doesn’t even argue back. He takes his bag and curses as he leaves out. “Fucking pricks.”

Hopper turns to look at Eddie and Jonathan, giving them a look just screaming ‘Well done, boys.’

“Where’d she go?” He asks the boys.

“Back room.” Jonathan says.

“Hold down the register. Eddie get the girls into the break room.”

“Copy that.” Eddie smirks, proud to knock down that asshole. He gets Chrissy and Robin as Hopper ordered him to and they walk into the backroom.

Eddie expected to have to maybe give you a hug or have to calm you down but cleary you’ve taken matters into your own hands. Shoes off, feed kicked up as you lie back on the sofa, joint between your fingers as you take a pull.

“My my, what have we here.” Robin says teasingly.

You sigh and shake your head.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks.

“Peachy.”

But Eddie knows. And honestly he’s stressed too, so he holds his hand out, taking a nice lengthy drag.

“Damn that’s good. Don’t get too high, sweetheart. Need you till 9, remember?”

“Won’t matter next week, shouldn’t matter tonight.”

“What?” Robin raises a brow.

“Nothing she’s high.” Eddie tries to cover it up and Hopper walks in.

“Okay girls, we need to talk.” He shakes his head. “Put that out it’s not your break.”

“Why don’t we all just have a break?” You look at him and he could see you were still upset.

“Not right now.”

“I need a smoke, Hop.”

“And I need you to act your age. You’re 23 damn it act like it.”

The girls stay silent, not used to seeing you so angry with Hopper. You look at them.

“Think he’s called us back here to let us down easy girls.” Suddenly the room isnt so quiet anymore.

“Jim, what’s she talking about?” Chrissy frowns a bit.

Robin chimes in. “Are you firing us? I know I mixed up the tapes a few times but I can do better.”

“No one is getting fired.” Jim tries to calm the girls down.

“Like Larry’s gonna keep us on the payroll.” You scoff.

“Larry?” Chrissy says.

“Who’s Larry?” Robin asks, intrigued.

“Cut it out.” Eddie looks at you with a pleading look.

“Hop just tell them.” You frown, so drowned into your emotions.

“Tell us what?” Chrissy says.

“It’s nothing.” Eddie tries to save Hopper’s ass again.

“Who the hell is Larry?” Robin asks a bit louder over the chaos of the room.

“Who’s asking?”

Everyone’s head turns to the door to see a man in a very nice suit. Chestnut hair styled like Sinatra, a smile on his face and a fancy pair of shoes you see in those designer magazines.

“Larry.” Hopper nods and everyone’s eyes widen. You feel your heart stop. This is Larry Bassinger. You anger suddenly soothes down to something worse, fear.

~~~~~~

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Larry says as he looks around our break room. It’s very backhanded, given how he didn’t want to sit on the sofa.

“The staff takes decoration to heart.” Hopper nods as he sits in a chair across from Larry’s, you and the girls sat on the sofa while Eddie stands behind you three.

“Interesting.” He brushes it off and sits up. “Any of you ladies hang up something significant?”

“It’s all significant.” You speak up.

Chrissy sees you’re bothered and tries to cheer you up. “She decorated the frame for employee of the month.”

Robin chimes in. “Probably since she spends so much time up there.”

Larry’s brows raise. “Fascinating. I imagine you would make the finest employee anywhere else?”

“I prefer to not spend the rest of my life serving coffee to hipsters judging me for listening to provocative musical acts-‘“

“That’s enough.” Hopper warns you and Larry laughs.

“It’s okay.” He nods and looks from Hopper to you. “So you’ve seen the letter.”

“I have.” You nod.

“Me too.” Eddie adds in to defend you.

“Me and your manager, we went to school together. He tell you that?”

You and the others are shocked, but you hide it well. Clearly, he’s trying to win you over.

“He didn’t.”

“Well, we did. And when we graduated, I went right off to college and worked my dad’s firm. Real estate came easy. Buy, sell, move. Property to property and this place, let me tell you. Complete dump. I’m sure you wouldn’t know that considering it was decorated so much.”

Jim gives him a glare, a warning.

“This.. lot, is mines to keep. It’s simply rental. Never a full purchase. This store will be mines and I am no heartless fool, believe me.” He places his hand over his heart. “Which is why I’m here today.”

He pulls three papers from his briefcase and hands one to you, one to Robin, one to Chrissy. You all immediately frown. Job applications.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Chrissy looks at Larry a bit disturbed.

“Means you and your girls are promised and guaranteed well paid positions once the cafe opens next year.”

Your eyes widen. “Just us?”

“We find in waitressing that women are more smiled upon-“

“When serving stale pastries and coffee to snobs who can’t remember our names and undergrads who try to peek under our skirts? Yeah, no thanks.” Robin sits the paper down.

“I am just offering from the kindness of my heart.”

“Kindness?” You scoff and sit the paper down, more of a toss. “Kindness is letting Jim keep his store that feeds his family. It pays for colleges classes and career opportunities. We do donations and drives did you know that?!”

“I do. And we will keep those going. If you sign, it will be my first priority-“

“We don’t want to sell coffee, we want to sell records. This is our store!”

Larry glares at you, clearly upset that you’re not complying or even more, shutting up. “It is not your store!”

The rooms blares into a deafening silence.

“You had your daddy’s money. A college education and a promised career. This man, my manager. He had nothing. He found family here, we all did. And if you take Empire away..” You swallow, not even knowing how to simmer down the anger and sadness in your body so Eddie speaks up.

“Then that’s all gone too.” He stands behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Larry looks at all of you. The fear and tinge of sadness in everyone’s face, even Hopper’s. Larry contemplates what would he lose if he let this building go. Larry would lose nothing so Larry doesn’t give a shit.

“No money, no Empire.” He states it clearly.

You feel a boil of anger inside of you. Hopper’s eager as he stands.

“Larry, thanks for coming-“

“Fine.” You take a deep breath and look at Larry.

“Pardon?” Larry raises a brow.

“You want ten thousand we’ll get your ten thousand.” You look at him, wanting to wipe that stupid smirk off.

“And how exactly will you do that?” He challenges back.

“Want the money or not?” You glare at him. Larry looks at Hopper, and even he knows not to mess with you when you’re this determined. Larry navigates his vision back towards you.

“You got yourselves deal.”

~~~~~

8pm. You sit on the roof of Empire. After a lengthy conversation with Hopper and a few too many apologies, he agreed to let you take your last hour alone. That doesn’t last for long when you hear the familiar crunch of Eddie’s boots. He sits next to you, legs hanging from the roof. You can feel his eyes on you so you speak first.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You okay?”

“I’m sorry. About earlier, I just.. so many assholes today.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re just worried about you. I’m worried.”

He knows you really need a hug, so he scoots closer and wraps his arms around your shoulders and you lean into him, enjoying the closeness.

“That guys a dick. Larry and that asshat from earlier, don’t pay them any mind. You’re great.”

You nod and speak softly. “I’m so tired. I mean, all my life Eddie. My mom brought men home like that customer all the time. Loud and arrogant and just so fucking rude. And then Larry comes in and shoves his fancy suits down our throats and brags his cash in Hopper’s face. It’s bullshit.”

“Definitely bullshit.” He scoffs but then he smirks. “But you were such a badass.”

You look up at him and grin. “Oh yeah?”

“Please. You want the money or not? Felt like I was in some badass mafia movie. Very metal.”

You smile and it warms Eddie’s heart. It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day.

“Idiot.”

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence before you speak up. “Hey..”

“Yeah?”

“Lets throw a party.”

He chuckles. “Well that’s random.”

“No.” You sit up and look at him. “We can tackle this two in one. Do you still have Rick’s number?”

“I don’t deal anymore, princess.” Eddie says woth a raised brow.

“I know.. but if we sell at our rager we could make tons of money and put it towards the store.”

“You know i’d do anything for you, but this is very risky.”

“It’ll just be weed.” You reassure him. “And maybe just a few baggies of K.” He grows silent, clearly thinking. “Come on, Eddie. A total rager for the beginning of summer and to save the Empire. Please.”

He can’t say no. Not when you look at him like that. Expectant and hopeful for the first time today. He knows he’s gonna regret it but he sighs and nods.

“Fine. But two things.”

You nod. “Okay?”

He holds up a finger. “One, Hopper can never find out about the drugs. He’s skin us both alive.” He holds up the second finger. “Two, we deal together. I don’t need some douche trying to bribe you just because you’re a girl.”

“Okay, yeah. Stays between us and deal together. How hard can it be?”

~~~~~

Sunday night. You’re actually feeling so much better. After your shitty day yesterday and being off schedule today, you got to sleep in, you got yourself all prettied up while Eddie and Jonathan spent the day getting your dealings for the party and arranging it at the dorms of Robin’s campus.

The party is alive, a perfect goodbye to the campus as most of these students are graduating and traveling to the beaches for the summer. They dance and drink in the halls, some making out in corners and others already rotating the pre-rolled joints you sold to them.

Eddie decided he would take care of selling the coke. If anything were to happen to a student because of his product, he wasn’t gonna take you down with him. Although, he would like to take you somewhere. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

That lacy black and red corset on your body, the way your hips swayed in that black skirt, the pretty black heeled boots that adorned your feet. You were a dream and more.

“Look!” You grin and pull out a wad of cash from your top and he gasps.

“Holy shit, how much is that?”

“Four eighty five.” You smile. “Some football player was so drunk he gave me an extra fifty. Wasn’t gonna argue.”

“Princess, you’re something else.” He grins.

“Where’s Jonathan?”

“In his dorm.” Eddie tucks the cash into his jeans pocket.

“With a party like this?” You raise a brow.

“Nancy’s with him.”

You gasp and laugh. “Damn. Good for them.”

“Yeah, good for them.”

“Let’s get a drink?”

“Lead the way, princess.”

The two of you weave through the crowd, the heavy bass of the music vibrating through the air. Eddie sticks close behind you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as you move through the sea of sweaty bodies and discarded red solo cups. The party is alive, chaotic, and exactly the kind of escape you both need after the hell of a weekend at Empire.

You grab two cups from the table and shrug. "What's your poison?" you ask looking through the bottles.

"Dealer's choice," he says, his smirk challenging you to surprise him.

There’s rum, vodka, tonic and some bottle with electric blue liquid and no label. You sit the chups down and take a smarter route. After all, you still have to sell tonight. You hand Eddie his usual, a beer, and you go for a Smirnoff. You settle by going outside, sitting in the grass outside of the dorms. You clink your bottles together.

“Cheers, to.. dealing drugs together?” He laughs.

“To getting cash.” You smile.

“And to saving Empire.” Eddie smile you both nod and drink your drinks.

The night air is cool against your skin, carrying the faint sounds of music and laughter from the dorms. Eddie leans back on his elbows, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression as he looks up at the stars.

"You ever think about what happens if we don't save Empire?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You take a sip of your Smirnoff, letting the burn sit in your chest for a moment before answering. "No. Not possible.” You swallow, you really haven’t. You don’t wanna picture a world without that place.

Eddie nods. "I mean I get it. Empire's like...home, you know? It's more than just a record store. It's the only place that feels like it gets people like us."

The freaks. That’s what we got called in high school. But at Empire it’s different. No rules, no barriers. Just us and our music. Sure it’s not perfect but Eddie’s right, it’s home.

You glance at him, noticing how the moonlight softens his features. "Yeah," you say. "That's why we're not gonna let it go under. I don't care if we have to sell every pill, every ounce. We'll figure it out."

Eddie leans back against the grass, his hands raking the blades like he's grounding himself. "It just sucks, you know? That it's all on us. Feels like the whole world doesn't give a damn about places like Empire. But if it was some fancy boutique or some sports bar? Everyone would be throwing money at it to save it."

"That's because those places are safe. Normal. Empire’s for people like us, people who don't fit their mold. They don't care if it disappears, but we do…and we're not gonna let it." You sip your drink.

Eddie can’t help but look at you. So beautiful in the moonlight. Your soft skin, your features, your words. It’s all so sentimental to him. He remembers sitting in the grass like this when you’d run out to the playground with him when you were 16. You’d smoke and laugh and talk about whatever. You always talked about how you’d leave that town one day and become something huge. You were so determined, just like you are now.

Eddie tilts his head and gives you a boyish grin, same one he’s had for years. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"The 'I'm ready to take on the whole damn world' look." He chuckles softly. "Makes me think we might actually pull this off."

You grin despite the weight sitting in your chest. "We will. We have to. Because if I have to hear Larry’s pompous ass laugh one more time I might actually strangle him.”

“A show I’d pay to see.” He laughs and finishes off his beer.

You laugh too but the tension lingers. You both know the stakes are higher than ever, and with a shared look you silently agree to take down that corporate asshole together.

~~~~~

It’s safe to say Sunday night was a success. A small one, but a success nonetheless. You and Eddie had sold all of the product you came with and spent the rest of the night drinking and dancing. You’d gotten a bit wasted after your seventh Smirnoff so Eddie carried you into his van and let you sleep.

And in the morning you wake up to something so gentle on your nose. Another nose. But it’s not Eddie’s no, this one’s much smaller. You wake up to the purrs of Eddie’s cat, Ozzy.

You smile and nuzzle against the small black furball. “Good morning.”

You sit up and it all crashes on you. Your head spinning in a whirlwind of aches, your clothes which are now just some boxers and a Pantera tee you left here at Eddie’s the last time you had movie night. You’d gotten stretch and look around the bedroom to see that it’s missing it’s main thing: it’s owner.

You pad out of the bedroom. Alone in Eddie’s apartment. You feed Ozzy and read the note Eddie left you on the counter.

Aspirin’s in he bathroom mirror, pancakes in the microwave. Be back soon! :)

You smile and take the aspirins, practically chug your glass of water and sit on Eddie’s sofa, watching Full House as you eat your pancakes.

Once you’re full, you clean your plate and decide to look around Eddie’s place. You look through his books, tapes, magazines. Loving all of his trinkets and things, same as he loved going through yours when he came to your apartment for the first time.

You finally settle on a Guitar World magazine, Motley Crue adorning the cover. You smile and flip through the pages, looking at the different pics of different bands. Flipping and flipping and.. oh.

Polaroids. Polaroids in Eddie’s magazine. Polaroids.. of Eddie in Eddie’s magazine.

You carefully lift and count them. Four polaroids. In one, he’s got a shirt on, his hand in his hair and the other holding his guitar as the strap hangs over his shoulder.

In the next his hair is more messy, probably from taking his shirt off because it’s off now. His tattoos on his porcelain skin stealing almost all of the attention because in the third one the guitar is gone and he’s posing like some real rockstar, leaning back against the wall where his tapesty and posters hang.

You smile at the smug grin on his face. Taking photographs pf himself in his bedroom like he’s documenting. What a cocky bastard. Speaking of..

“Oh..” You gasp and your eyes widen. This fourth pic. The way his eyes look into the camera. Like he’s demanding attention now. And instead of a guitar occupying his hand, it’s something much harder and yet, just as red.

Your mouth hangs as you see his fist wrapped around his cock. The way its leaking makes you wonder if he’d been jerking off or if those tight jeans he had on in the other pictures had made him this hard.

An even better question crossed your mind. Why did he take these pictures? Was it for someone? Was it for fun? Is he really that big or did the camera do him a huge favor.

You gasp when you hear the door open and unlock. You quickly put the polaroids back into the magazine and tuck it under the sofa.

“Oh hey, you’re up.” He grins as he walks in with a white envelope.

“I am.” You grin, trying to play it cool. “What’s that?”

“I’m glad you ask princess.” He flops onto the sofa next to you. “Counted the cash from last night’s dealings and added it with Hopper’s cash.”

You take the envelope and open it. “And how much is this?”

He grins. “Four thousand and fifty eight dollars.”

“Wow. We sold that much last night?”

“Yeah. But if we’re gonna reach ten thousand might wanna consider some other options.”

“I’ll.. look into it.” You look at the crotch of his jeans then away. “Um, I should probably go. Get washed up and figure out some of this.. cash situation.”

He frowns. “Can‘t hang out?”

“Sorry. I’m just hungover still.” To be fair you didn’t lie, those aspirins did nothing for your headache and you were very nauseous, especially now.

“Oh. Well you can just take my bed-“

“No! I mean, no. It’s fine Eddie, really.” You stand and he follows suit, walking you to the door.

“Should I drive you?” His brows furrow a bit.

“It’s fine. I’ll get a cab. You just take a day off, yeah?”

“You’re so weird.” He shakes his head. “Fine. Go on but me and Ozzy will not let this slide.”

“Noted.” You grin and bite your lip to shut yourself up when he hugs you, the chains from his jeans freezing your legs. The close proximity knowing what’s in his jeans. It’s suffocating, but you hug him anyways then quickly pull away.

“Bye Eddie.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You leave his apartment and take the longest cab ride back to your apartment. The shower you tske doesn’t help you feel any cleaner. You need to get the image out of your mind, and quickly. There’s so much to focus on. You’ve got a music store to save, no time for distractions. But damn is it a good one.

series taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92

pls let me know if you want to be added in the comnents, xo

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #corroded coffin #hellfire club #stranger things #eddie the banished #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic

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fizzzyz · 1 year ago

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*Tmc stickers jumpscare*

They’re finally done… and I will finally print them when the sticker paper I ordered arrives.

If I’m lucky I’ll get my etsy shop up in about 2 weeks, if not then maybe a month. But I’ll announce it when it is! 🕺

If these sell well I’m gonna make another sticker pack with new stickers and sell those as well. I’ll probably draw a few more ”serious” ones and include the other characters.

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thebibliosphere · 1 year ago

Note

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

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murdockparker · 10 months ago

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Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different.

This afternoon she walked in.

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor.

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl.

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?”

She knew his name.

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him.

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep.

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did.

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange.

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more.

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod.

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump.

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just�� have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on.

“You seem tense,” she noticed.

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied.

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months.

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter.

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her.

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough.

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes.

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips.

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster.

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more.

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy.

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right?

She had called him pretty boy.

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins.

Maybe it was a date.

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished.

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later.

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated.

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around.

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed.

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for.

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands.

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well.

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town.

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing.

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up.

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted.

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning��so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets.

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big.

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk.

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood.

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington Imagines #okay fine twist my arm this is loosely based on the btr song of the same name #can't blame a girl for finding inspiration everywhere #does it have a plot? no #do I like pining and love-sick steve? yes

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