#the fluff comes after

[wings-of-angels]

Turned my perfectly good fluff fic into something weird and bittersweet and awkward what the hell me 💀💀

[n0anix]

whatever *domesticates your Carnivàle Lecroux*

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until���there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[yayll]

Dazai loves eye contact he savors every little microsecond of gazing at you bc he knows you squirm from being perceived and can't hold it as long as he does.

DAZAI LOVES EYE CONTACT AND MEMORIZING EVERY DETAIL ABOUT YOU BECAUSE HES SCARED ONE DAY HE WONT GET THE CHANCE TO AGAIN.

he loves to say the most lewd things to your face and when you have to literally look away from the sheer embarrassment he gently turns your chin to face him again and smirks at you because he knows he pushed the right buttons to mess you up.

"You need to stop biting your lip so much, it's distracting, you know. I may have to call out of work to process this turmoil of emotions you're putting me through. I demand compensation~"

"It's a habit, Osamu, it's hard not to."

this just makes him whine like a little kid, huffing and puffing but slowly trickling his eyes down to your bottom lip as if in a trance. checking you out mid-tantrum is his specialty.

"But it only makes me wanna bite it instead. Like, soooo badlyyyyy..."

then you do it again, you break the rules and avert your eyes like you always do. don't you know you can never escape the watchful eye of the one who adores you the most? how naughty! sexy as hell

"You think me biting the dead skin off my lip is hot...?"

this causes him to reach out and pull your face back to him with a gentle but insistent hand as he begins to rub your bottom lip with his thumb in featherlike strokes. he mumbles, eyes dilating from a hunger he always fails to hide from you. why would he? you're just too much for the senses, and he doesn't know if he wants to kiss you or swallow you whole.

"No, but I think you looking me in the eye while I flirt with you is fucking lovely."

[wifeyoozi]

all the ways jihoon kisses you

1. Soft Kisses: Jihoon has a really sweet side, especially when he's feeling particularly affectionate. These kisses are tender, with his lips barely brushing against yours. He often gives these kisses when he's trying to comfort you or when you're cuddling on the couch after a long day. They convey his deep care and love for you.

2. Passionate Kisses: When Jihoon is feeling a surge of strong emotions, his kisses become more fervent. These kisses are intense, leaving you both breathless. His hands might cup your face, pulling you closer as if he's afraid to let you go. These happen in moments of reunion after being apart, or when he's overwhelmed by his feelings for you.

3. Playful Kisses: Jihoon has a playful side that comes out when he's in a lighthearted mood. He'll pepper your face with quick, playful pecks, making you giggle. Sometimes, he'll pull away just as you're about to kiss him back, grinning at your frustrated expression before finally giving in and kissing you properly.

4. Forehead Kisses: These kisses are Jihoon's way of showing his protective and caring nature. He'll press a gentle kiss to your forehead, usually when you're in his arms or when he's trying to reassure you. It's a silent promise that he's always there for you, no matter what. It's also his fav place to kiss because it makes him feel happy to make you feel safe with him. It's also his way of being intimate without really getting intimate.

5. Cheek Kisses: Cheek kisses from Jihoon are casual yet endearing. He often gives these when he's busy with something but still wants to show his affection. A quick peck on the cheek while he's working in the studio or before he leaves for an event. It's his way of saying he loves you and remembers you even when he's busy with schedules.

6. Neck Kisses: When Jihoon is feeling particularly romantic or when he wants to show a bit more intimacy, he'll trail soft kisses along your neck. These kisses send shivers down your spine and often lead to more passionate moments. He loves hearing your breath hitch and feeling your pulse quicken under his lips. If he's feeling playful, he'll tickle you where he knows it tickets with his tongue just to hear your pretty laugh.

7. Goodbye Kisses: Jihoon hates saying goodbye, even if it's just for a short while. His goodbye kisses are a mix of longing and reassurance. He'll hold you close, kissing you deeply as if he's trying to memorize the feel of your lips until he sees you again. There's always a promise in these kisses – that he'll come back to you soon. He'll always be leaning his forehead against yours as he pouts about having to go on yet another tour.

8. Morning Kisses: Waking up next to Jihoon means starting your day with a soft, sleepy kiss. These kisses are slow and lazy, full of warmth as he wakes up beside you. He loves kissing you good morning, letting you know that he cherishes waking up with you every day.

9. Apology Kisses: When Jihoon feels he's wronged you, his kisses become softer and more tentative. He'll hold your face gently, his lips brushing against yours in silent apology. He might whisper words of remorse between kisses, trying to make up for any hurt he caused. These kisses are filled with sincerity and a promise to do better. 

10. Spontaneous Kisses: Jihoon sometimes kisses you out of the blue, surprising you with his spontaneity. Whether you're cooking, reading, or simply walking together, he'll lean in for a quick kiss, a playful grin on his face. These kisses remind you of how much he loves you, even in the most ordinary moments.

12. Shoulder kisses: Jihoon kisses your shoulders when he's feeling particularly affectionate, especially during cuddling sessions. If you're sitting together, he might lean over and press soft kisses to your bare shoulders, making you feel adored and appreciated. It's an intimate gesture that conveys his love in a subtle yet powerful way.

11. Hand kisses: When Jihoon kisses your hands, it's a gesture of admiration and respect. He might kiss your knuckles softly when holding your hand, making you feel like the most important person in his life. During quiet, tender moments, he might lift your hand to his lips and press a gentle kiss to your palm, showing his deep affection and appreciation for you. He even kisses your inner wrist sometimes, a very intimate spots that make you feel all tingly and loved

14. Back and nape kisses: When you're lying together or he's hugging you from behind, Jihoon loves pressing soft kisses along your back or on your nape. It's an intimate gesture that makes you feel incredibly close to him. He might trail kisses from your shoulders down to your lower back, his lips barely brushing your skin, creating a sense of deep connection and warmth. When he's hugging you from the back, he'll push your hair to the side and kiss you there tenderly.

15. Ear kisses: Jihoon sometimes kisses your ears, especially the lobes, when he wants to whisper sweet nothings or playful remarks. These kisses are often ticklish and send tingles down your spine. He might gently nibble on your earlobe before whispering something that makes you blush, adding a playful and intimate touch to your interactions.

16. Stomach/belly kisses: When you're lying down together, Jihoon loves pressing soft kisses to your stomach. It's a gesture of tenderness and love, showing how much he adores every part of you. He might trace gentle patterns with his lips, making you feel a mix of ticklish delight and deep affection. You'd never feel insecure about your body around him, he'll make sure of that.

17. Thigh kisses: these ones are obviously naughty ones. Mostly happens during foreplay, during or before he eats you out or fingers you. Sometimes, he'll kiss your thighs during aftercare as he cleans you up. He cannot hold it back when he sees your tender blushed thighs.

18. Ankle kisses: this could be both soft or naughty. When he's fucking you in missionary, he loves to kiss your ankles and calves as he hooks your legs over his shoulder. Alternatively, if you two are chilling in the couch while watching a movie maybe, he'll hold your legs in his lap, subconsciously yet tenderly rubbing your feet and ankles and occasionally bringing it to his mouth to land a soft peck.

19.Eyelid Kisses (?): Jihoon sometimes kisses your closed eyelids, especially when he’s feeling tender and affectionate. These kisses are soft and gentle, often given as a reassurance or a sign of deep emotional connection. He might do this when you’re feeling tired or overwhelmed, using the kiss as a way to soothe and comfort you. Sometimes he kisses your eyelids when you are sleeping soundly and Jihoon finds the sight really endearing and cute.

20. Making out : Jihoon loves making out with you every once in a while to make up for the time he was apart from you. Usually has you straddle him on his lap as he kisses you tenderly. He'll rub his hand along your thigh, pulling you closer by your waist. Make outs with jihoon are usually slow because he really wanna enjoy every moment of it, yet sensual. He uses a lot more tongue and also likes to bite sometimes. You're lips are sure to be swollen by the time your make out sesh ends.

[koipudding]

jing yuan, who loves when you’re wearing his clothes, and you return them to him. it’s so domestic and simple but he craves it. (gn reader, not a serious drabble.) reader is characterized as smaller than jy, interpret as you wish.

wc: 470

The clothes smell like you, of course. The laundry detergent you bought, your shampoo and the little scent beads you like to put in the washing machine. He doesn’t mind the musk that lingers on his old shirts after you clean the whole house, no of course not. Jing Yuan adores smelling your musk, lotion and conditioner melding together and melting into his shirt.

You go out to buy new scent beads every other month, a tiny little jar of them. Jing Yuan swears to anyone who listens that you’re doing this on purpose. Mixing your shampoo and lotion to match with the scent beads, changing the fabric softener to mess with his head (and laundry). He laments this to Fu Xuan, Qingzu, and Yanqing, who all beg you to stick to one routine before the General loses his sanity (of course, everyone groans and ignores him. they’ve had enough of his marital escapades, and they just tell him to marry you again if he’s this smitten. Thus, after a decade of marriage, Jing Yuan has rewritten his vows.) He likes these little variances in his routine, the little harmless surprise that keeps him on his toes.

(He swears it's just because you picked it out. You know it's because it reminds him that there's finally a home for him to return to.)

"I'm back, do you know what the others said during the meeting, they were planning on handing off more paperwork, but I insisted mimi and you would--" He stops in his tracks. This must be unfair. Divine Punishment? Did he anger Lan? his ancestors?

Jing Yuan sees you wearing nothing but some socks, his shorts and t-shirt (both of which hang off of your smaller frame). He runs over, pace quickening.

You yelp quietly, backing away before he pounces onto you, bearing all of his weight onto you. He can't help it, you're so cute wearing his outfit, doing laundry and making dinner.

“You smell so good.” he buries his face into your neck, inhaling the sun on your skin, lotion he bought for you, and the conditioner you've taken from his stash.

“And you smell icky.” You push him off gently, but his arms only tighten. He just got back from work, and he reeks of sweat. But you can’t ignore how your heart races whenever he gets up to these antics, and you can’t help but indulge in his whims. 

This is a regular habit. He barely removes his armor before running to you, and clings to you like a sullen child, asking about dinner and how his darling and mimi have been. You can only sigh and pat his head while he recharges in your lap (or, in Yanqing’s words: naps.) 

"thank you, for everything," He whispers into your ear, "You're doing great, sweetheart."

a/n: I was talking to a coworker abt how the only thing that brings me joy now is a 2d man (jy) and buying new scent beads/laundry scent boosters or sample perfume. then I had this idea. also that ending bit :,) sending good vibes to all with my first fic of the new yr!

[slavhew]

i reread this scene and i could just. picture it. so vividly.

[laiiaaa]

grocery trips with Carmen are so special to me. u don't understand.

When he lived alone he rarely bothered to make dignified trips—this much you knew, because the first time you were over his old apartment you had to ask if he ate anything in his time off. All he had was a sad loaf of bread, some condiments, chips, and a few cans of soda. But now that you’re living together, in a new place with a new fridge and a new kitchen, he takes it very seriously. 

He keeps a handwritten list so he doesn’t forget anything, he has a steadfast route he follows every time, and he leads the way while you push the cart and trail behind. Definitely gets caught in his own world looking at produce, but keeps a hand tethered to the end of the cart just to make sure you’re still there. Mumbles to himself about how the fuckers keep hiking up the prices for stuff that’s in season, and if you ask him what he said, he’ll just tell you, “It’s nothin’, baby” and go right back to talking to himself with a furrowed brow. 

He’s exceedingly particular about how he arranges the cart, stares at it for a few seconds when he adds a few things just to make sure everything computes. But every time, he looks back at you with a half smile before moving a few steps closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead, or your cheek, or your temple, as his hand rubs affectionately on your shoulder. He can’t get enough of the way you trail behind him, arms leaning against the cart’s handle as you chat about your plans for the week, or the hot goss at work, or anything else that piques your interest. He just wants to listen to what’s on your mind while he ticks off products on his list.

A bittt of a control freak, too. Not in the sense that he won’t let you do anything or pick up a snack you want, just that he has to work it into his route first. Doesn’t like it when you wander off to grab something right away and he honestly gets insecure about it, starts thinking he’s boring you or taking too long or that he’s being too hard on you.

“It took me ten seconds, Carm, it was just in the next aisle.”

“No, no, I know that, I just, um…” He nods his head persistently, hands on his hips and eyes downcast—that classic look he gets when he’s thinking too hard about something. “Y’know, if—you don’t have to come, if you don’t want to…y’know I can—” Stumbling for the way to word the thoughts he can’t fully wrap his head around himself. "If you don't like it—"

“Hey—” You wait for him to meet your eyes, and when he does, you soften. Stepping close to him, you pry one of his hands away and instead tangle it with yours. “C'mon, I love doing this with you, y’know?”

He lets out a careful breath, and his chest relaxes at your tenderness.

“I want to be here, just following you around. I just wanna spend time with you, okay Bear?”

He pauses, has to swallow what you say before he can respond. “Yeah,” he nods, “Okay.”

“Good.” 

When you press a kiss to his cheek, he gives one right back to you, keeps it sweet and brief as a soft smile curls at the corners of his mouth, chest warm and calm before getting back to business. 

Does not, under any circumstances, let you pay. Won't let you open your purse. Doesn’t want you lifting even a finger to line up items on the conveyor belt. No, not that bag of chips you snagged, either. If you start helping he’ll nudge you away from the cart and take your spot, or just take whatever you’re holding out of your hands while shooting you a look.

“I got it, baby.”

“But I wanna help.”

“Uh-uh, I’m takin’ care of it—”

“I can lift a bag of apples—”

He raises his brows again and cocks his head to the side, making you freeze. “Just lemme do it for us, aight?”

You huff but concede anyway. “Fine.”

Yet another kiss to your temple, and he’s pulling out his wallet to grab his card. “Thank you, baby.”

After that it’s borderline criminal for you to even think about helping. He pushes the cart to the car, loads the bags in the trunk, drives home, carries the groceries up to the apartment, stocks everything where it belongs. Kisses you sporadically along the way, maybe lets himself get distracted when you pull him back for more. Just maybe.

He takes care of it—all of it—for you, because you being with him makes him more content than he’s ever been, and ever thought he could be. He's so in awe of you that nothing feels like quite enough to express it.

[varpusvaras]

Jason gets his new ID card on a Thursday.

It's somehow simultaneously completely unremarkable, and also making his head reel. It's not even the first new, official ID card he has had in his hands - he needed one for the licence, after all, so he'd got one then - but it's still new in every way possible.

Jason turns the card around a couple of times, just to make sure that it's real. It is. New and shiny, with his own face looking back at him from the front. His face is also somehow the same old and completely new at the same time. It is very much him, in the picture, but Jason feels like he is looking at his long lost twin brother rather than at himself. His hair is freshly cut, completely black. His skin is tanned more than it has been in years, from spending a lot of time under the California sun during the past few weeks. He is wearing a light blue button-down shirt, one that Jason wouldn't usually never be caught in publicly.

It is him, still.

Jason is pretty sure he shouldn't have gotten neither of his new, official state-issued ID's so fast, or gotten everything else sorted out so quick either, but Roy has his own ways of doing things. This is the one time his previous government-connections came in handy, he had said after Jason had said yes, and then he had kissed Jason on the forehead and told him not to worry about it.

Jason had let Roy take care of it all. Doing things for others is how he shows affection, and Jason had felt that Roy had needed to take care of Jason even more than Jason had needed Roy to take care of him. Not that Jason is complaining about it. He still feels a bit untethered, and most things are taking entirely too much out of him, either physically or mentally, though Jason is not sure which is which most of the time.

Not that it really matters.

He finally turns his eyes away from his picture to what is written on the rest of the card. His birthday is correct, for once, since this is an official card and not a fake one for whatever purpose Jason had needed one over the years. His address is also on the card, and Jason cannot help but feel a sense of elevation for it. It makes him feel a little stupid. It's an address (Roy's address, their address, Jason officially lives there too-), not a new name or anything like that.

Jason is not really sure if he can look at the name on the card and not immediately combust on the spot, if the address is making him feel this way already.

The ring on his finger feels heavy. Jason takes a deep breath and moves his thumb where it had been covering the rest of the text.

Jason Peter Harper.

It's his name.

It's him.

Jason reads it again. Then again. Then again once, twice, three times more.

Jason Peter Harper looks at him from the picture while he does so. Jason's head is really spinning, and he forces it to stop, hard.

It is him.

He is Jason Peter Harper.

He is the man in the picture on the card.

That's him.

The door opens and closes in the hallway. Roy comes up to Jason when Jason doesn't answer to his greeting.

"Everything okay?" He asks, as he gets to Jason's back.

"Yeah", Jason manages to get out from his mouth. "My new card came in."

"Oh, already?" Roy says. "That was fast. Let me see?"

Jason lifts the card up a bit, so Roy can read it over his shoulder. From how close Roy is standing to him, Jason can hear the small, gentle stutter in his breath as he reads the name. It isn't like neither of them had not seen it already, written like that, since it is in other forms they had filled out, but apparently, it is still making Roy feel just as much things as Jason does.

Jason hopes that it never stops doing that for either of them. Or at least, not for a very long time.

He needs something to last.

"Nice name you got there, Harper", Roy says, and Jason swears that he can almost feel Roy's smile on his skin. He then feels Roy's body pressing against him, warm and strong and solid. Roy wraps his arms around Jason, his head dipping down to rest on Jason, and Jason turns to look at Roy's hands and at the mathing golden wedding band he has on his finger.

"You're mine", Roy says against Jason's shoulder. It is what he has been saying, ever since the clerck at the City Hall had put their name on the paper, singing their lives together. You're mine, you're mine, you're mine, and no one can say otherwise.

Jason had needed to hear it.

He still does.

Jason looks up at the card. It's strange, how a little piece of plastic can tell everyone who he is.

Jason breathes in and closes his eyes, just feeling it all.

His name is Jason Peter Harper. He's alive.

His name is Jason Peter Harper, and for the first time since he died, he thinks he can be happy.

[ouaw-facts-i-just-made-up]

Whenever the Krew settles down to actually hang up their adventuring days for good (or until something really funny happens), they each go get real actual jobs, if the carnival doesn't start back up that is.

Kremy opens his own restaurant. A casino would have been more fun but. Bad memories. Plus he really doesn't wanna be run out of this town, he *bought* a *house*. He's staying until it burns down, which is unfortunately likely when you live with a fire genasi. His restaurant is his little baby, much like the carnival (but much more legally done, to his dismay). It's actually quite popular.

Gideon likes doing more physical labor, and working with his hands. He briefly considered being a bodyguard for some uptight rich folk, but it felt like a slight betrayal to Kremy, as irrational as that is. He either lends a hand at a local farm or works at a machine/item repair shop. Who needs a dumb artificer when you have Gideon.

Gricko and Frost both start a little farm themselves. Nothing big, sort of like the kind you'd see in a backyard. They take odd jobs sometimes too, Gricko taking on the "help!! There's a big animal in a place we don't want them" jobs (mostly convincing the animal to move to a safer, less humanoid populated forest), and Frost does the ones that are more like your average "I need help repairing my item" or "can someone help me with my fucking taxes please I'm scared" jobs.

Torbek finds a job similar to Gideon's, though he mostly prefers the physical labor ones. Easier to learn, and he's used to helping with stuff around the carnival so he's great at it. He's just happy there's no possibility of falling off a really tall Ferris Wheel now

Hootsie gets to sit at home and chill. Preferably the home base is near a forest so she can go explore. Every once in a while she helps Gricko with his tasks, or helps Frost by being a rather large therapy dog for people who *really* hate taxes. She's enjoying life

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Of Cooking and Ghosts

Danny is a single father. Dani is now physically her actual age making Danny, at the tender age of 20 the father of a 4 year old(5 in a couple months)

Danny moved to Blood Haven. He's got a decent paying job, lives in a decent neighborhood, and his schedule allows him to take Dani to and from school. It had been a bit of an adjustment, but he and his daughter are doing alright. There's just one problem...

Danny can't cook

Danny never learned how to cook and frankly he can't just keep eating fast food and takeout. His parents weren't the best cooks but at least his dad could make flapjacks that didn't come alive and attack them. Hell, he missed going over to Tuckers and getting fed by Mrs. Foley, because that woman could really cook. Danny needed something homemade, surely cooking couldn't be THAT hard...

Dick was quite alarmed to find smoke coming out of his neighbor's door as he came back from walking Haley. His instincts kicked in, leading to one officer Grayson bursting in and putting out a small grease fire much to the chagrin of his neighbor, Danny. Dick invites Danny and his daughter Dani to his place down the hall while the smoke clears out. So Dick makes them the one food he knows how to make

Pancakes

Turns out neither of them are the most robust of chefs. Dick calls Alfred and gets some recipes to try and him and Danny make plans to go over to Dick's place and learn a couple. Dani likes to "help" aka play with Haley, and Danny and Dick bond over learning to cook and eating just a bit healthier

OR

I rewatched an episode of Sweetness and Lightning and am still on my Romcom bullshit. So Danny and Dick get a meet cute and then learn how to feed themselves. Frankly I'm not sure how or if secret identities and ghosts work into this, i just am feeling sappy and wanted something cute. Could be romantic, could just be friends, could be found family, idk

[yuwuta]

my f2l yuuta idea of the week, if i may: childhood bsf yuuta, nerdy and shy, who grows up with you. ur popular but u always stick by his side, and he's in love ofc. stuttering and failed valentine's confessions, blushing whenever u show him affection, doodling ur name in his notebook in class, classic loverboy yuuta

this omg :(( i’ve had conversations about something similar—childhood friend yuuta, but i love the idea of him being a little nerdy omggg

you’ve known him since before you two could even talk, you were just infants babbling at each other, but i’m sure in yuuta’s little baby brain he was trying to say i love love love youuuu :(( your parents have so many pictures of all the pretend weddings you guys have had as kids, so many pictures of yuuta in his dad’s huge tux jacket and you in a big shirt with a makeshift belt that’s really just an extra long friendship “bracelet” yuuta made for you bc he was trying to make a bracelet big enough to show you how much he loves you, but he ran out of beads :(((

school is harder for him as you two get older, yuuta doesn’t make friends nearly as easily as he did with you but he always has you and it just makes him more in love with you… the horimiya of this all……. yuuta trying to recede into the background but you’re the friend that pulls him out of his own head and introduces him to maki and toge and yuuji and megumi and nobara and everyone else and sometimes he just sits at the lunch table w everyone and thinks how lucky he is to have all his friends but esp you because none of it would be possible w/o you :(( definitely gets a piece of food thrown at him by nobara who’s calling him out for looking dazed and lovesick but he just blushes and tries to hide it behind stuffing his face he’s so cute god,,,……. definitely doesn’t help that you call him cute too and he’s *////////* all day… doodling your name in his book is so real he’s definitely written “(_____) okkotsu” on a handful of pages which is why he’s so weirdly anxious/protective of his notebook he would literally fizzle away into dust if anyone every saw it GOD

don’t even get me started on the failed confessions PLS so many times he tries to hype himself up to leave a note in your locker or ask you out but either something goes wrong or he’s not specific enough, so it always seems platonic…. the misfortunes of yuuta…. leaving a letter in your locker on valentine’s day but he forgot your way more popular than him, so it’s just one of many notes buried in there and ofc he’s a fool so he didn’t sign his pls 😭 asking you to get ice cream after school and it’s cool, but the next day he sees you getting ice cream w megumi and he’s like oh… wait… you probably do that will all ur friends ofc,,,, just constant blundering i love him sooooo bad

the only time he gets it right is prom, and i can see him either (1) being fed up by his own blundering and really wanting to get it right, (2) being worried/jealous about hearing other people’s plans to ask you to prom, (3) you teasing him about waiting for a certain somebody to ask youuuuuu…. he definitely stutters and stumbles a bit, but he’s yuuta he’s just a sweetheart so it’ll work out :(((

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I’ve been working on Vil’s “slap the overblot out of him” fanfic. I apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, my research paper takes precedence. However, I was unsatisfied with my writing so I’ve been revamping it. MC has become much sassier than I anticipated. It’s hilarious, but I’m not sure how I’m going to add a lot of fluff. I’m sure it will come in time, but it amused me and I wanted to share.

I also thought I would also give u an update on my other fanfics and ideas. All for Vil of course lol

The other fanfic I’m working on has a lot more soft fluff. It’s the one where the MC accidentally insults Vil because they think it’s a traditional Pomefiore greeting. That one’s funny and cute. MC treats him like a normal human. It’s a nice change of pace for our beautiful dorm leader. He’s used to being treated as untouchable. However, it’s lonely at the top. Vil is touched starved in this one. Also MC borrows Rook’s hat. You’ve gained the favor of our favorite hunters. Look forward to its release lol.

The other Vil fanfic I have is the body swap one. Even thinking about it brings a devious smile to my lips. It fulfills my deep fantasies of beating Vil at his own game. I want to show him that he could do better. He blames the acting industry for pigeonholing him into villain roles. While that’s certainly part of it, he can put in some work to change his circumstances. He’s not helpless.

In that one, Rook is a main and central character. I love Rook. He’s a hoot. I’m glad he’s a main character. As you know, he’s a valuable asset. The man knows Vil better than Vil himself. If you want an accurate, unbiased judge of your Vil imitation, he’s your boy. He agrees to work with you because he also wants Vil to realize he’s being too narrow minded.

The entire body swap fanfic is just one big power move. It makes me grin. I hope you all are as excited about my idea as I am lol

[gaiaseyes451]

There’s a fun little thing going on over at @goodomensafterdark that we’re calling the Pillow Fight. Unabashed, utter fluff in fics, art, podfic, music and more!

Somehow, inconceivably, I’ve gotten a reputation for writing angst! So, for January, I’ve teamed up with three fabulous artists to write three short one-shots that are full of fluffy feelings and domestic bliss.

Look for the first one, Sage & Rose, on 09-Jan with @cobeeli:

“Of all the things to grow in this rich soil, Aziraphale will proclaim Crowley is the most beautiful. Of all the lives rooted in this garden, theirs is the most precious to draw nourishment from the Earth.”

Coriander & Mint the week of 13-Jan with @daneecastle :

“Crowley lopes about the kitchen, fetching a pan or slicing some veg while Aziraphale pesters him about proper knife technique and minding his fingertips. Essentially, despite his insistence that he is assisting, Crowley is an absolute, adorable nuisance whenever Aziraphale is cooking.

And Aziraphale would have it no other way.”

Lavender & Thyme the week of 20-Jan with @and-his-hands-were-24-crows :

“Crowley sits at the piano, an old upright tucked in a nook in the hall that leads from their sitting room to the kitchen. As the late afternoon sun creeps through the windowpanes and the October breeze ruffles the grass, Crowley plays.”

[crossthread]

No jokes here. The Navy’s best pilot and the Navy’s best admiral. Between them, eight air-to-air combat kills and five stars. These were men who commanded respect with or without your approval. This was the picture of ruthless competence.

Debriefing (& Other Stories) • part 2 of Easier Done Than Said by @compacflt

[ghost-proofbaby]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you. 

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day. 

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that. 

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.) 

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?” 

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to. 

God, that man was a dick. 

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle. 

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive. 

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van. 

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up. 

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him. 

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep? 

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers. 

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads. 

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable. 

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars. 

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath. 

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him? 

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck. 

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him. 

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars. 

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good. 

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were. 

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake. 

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.” 

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth. 

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.” 

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors. 

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.” 

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you. 

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually. 

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns. 

Nope. Not a chance. 

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned. 

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning. 

—

It doesn’t. 

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day. 

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together. 

God, he sort of hated you. 

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice. 

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression. 

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it. 

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip. 

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them. 

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him. 

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John. 

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you. 

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.” 

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.” 

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset. 

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you. 

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?” 

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.” 

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin. 

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him. 

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable. 

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store. 

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural. 

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear. 

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk. 

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?” 

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?” 

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here. 

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.” 

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace. 

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.” 

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.” 

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.” 

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point. 

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.” 

Trainer? 

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with. 

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it. 

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say. 

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it. 

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back. 

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle. 

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?” 

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye. 

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice. 

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.” 

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole. 

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two. 

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could. 

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance. 

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.” 

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest? 

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed. 

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him. 

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?” 

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together. 

God, Eddie wishes he hated you. 

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

(tag list is open - if you'd like to be added, let me know!)