Dead of the Night - poly!newtmas

Chapter One

Series Synopsis - completely broke and freshly moved to New York City, you get a job at a sketchy restaurant to keep yourself afloat. Barely a week in, you meet two mysterious strangers who think you should stay with them. Can tall, dark and handsome's live up to their reputation?

Chapter Summary - on the late shift, you get invited to sit down with two men who seem to take a liking to you. At the end of the night, they don't seem to want to let yo go

Warnings - innocent!reader, fem!reader, British!reader, mafia!newtmas, established relationship between Newt and Thomas, ridiculous amount of pet names, kinda dark behaviour on behalf of our glader boys, misogynistic men (not newtmas (yet))

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You always got landed with the late shift at the restaurant. Actually, it wasn't the late shift so much as it was a six pm till three am shift which was completely and utterly unfair for you because the tips were lousy at that time and you'd miss out on so much sleep.

The waitressing uniforms were demeaning, borderline misogynistic so you wore a long overcoat to preserve your modesty until you stepped into the staff room before the start of your shift. You left it hanging on a coat peg, stuffing your outrageously out of date phone in the front pocket of your bottom-only apron next to your notepad and gathered your hair into a high pony before braving the dining room.

Avoiding the piercing gaze of your managers eyes on the hemline of your embarrassingly short skirt, you went about taking orders for your half of the dining room, trying your utmost to do up the buttons of your shirt without your boss seeing.

Two hours into your shift you'd learned to ignore the tingling of the bell as the door swung open. The thumping of boots against carpet mirrored the pounding in your skull from the relentless howls of male patrons. It had all become one monotonous mess of pain. God, you wished you could quit this job.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Came a small voice from behind you. You turned around, now finished rattling off an order to the chef and facing the speaker. The girl was maybe a year or so older than you, newer to the job than you were and she obviously couldn't remember your name even though there was a badge pinned directly on your left boob.

"What's up, hon?" You were always nicer to your fellow waitresses - they didn't need bitchy coworkers along with a sexist boss and diners.

"Those men at table three are asking for you? I- well, they're asking for 'that pretty waitress that looks like she has a headache' so I put two and two together," she pointed over to the table subtly, keeping her eyes forward like she was afraid they'd find out she was talking about them.

"Huh," you shrugged. This wasn't the first time that a table had asked for you to serve them instead of someone else, but it was the first time you'd been called 'pretty' instead of 'hot' by anyone in the joint. You patted the girl on the shoulder as you left, letting her know that you'd be fine- that you can handle a couple of creeps.

"Hi there, welcome to Tony's, can I get you fellas anything to drink to start you off?" You smiled as politely as you could, but it didn't reach your eyes. They were in a booth, just the two of them, with a pair of bodyguards standing post on the pillars either side of it. You didn't see their faces until they looked up, completely in sync with one another and you had to avert your eyes to avoid blushing at their looks.

"Mm, Bonjour," said one of them, deep baritone of a British accent reverberating across the room and you held back a squeal. The man caught your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing them against each other, "I'm Newt, and this is my friend Thomas,"

"Excuse you," the other boy interrupted, eyebrows pulling together and you retracted your hand in fear that he didn't want you touching his friend, "friend is a horrific understatement. Hi, princess, I'm Thomas, his boyfriend,"