#i’m just living and inviting people places and going everywhere and being social | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whoahoney · 2 years

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glassy eyes, hazy afternoons

Eddie Munson x anxious!stoner!Reader

Part 2

Summary: reader looks for the best place to purchase some grass in her new town of Hawkins, bringing her to meet the infamous Eddie Munson.

Content Warnings: Fem!Reader, reader has an older brother, use of Y/n, minor descriptions of anxiety & depression, mentions/use of recreational drugs, adult language, adult content (minors DNI!), fluff, mutual pining, and Eddie being the sweet boy he is 😩

Author’s Note: I’ve been DYING to get an Eddie Munson story started and I’m SO glad I got this first part done! There should a couple more parts to follow this, so please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

It feels a little slow in the beginning because of the set up and whatnot, but I really think it’s worth it! The tension is heavy here, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do 🤍 this isn’t beta read, so please excuse any errors!!

Friday morning meant two things for Y/n: the end of her first week at a new school and it was time to try to find some pot in the seemingly quiet town.

Y/n sluggishly made her way across the room, boxes scattered about—half the contents of each box spilled out onto the floor around them. She wandered around, gathered her clothes for the day, and tried to plan how she would find the best person to buy from.

She’d never had to score on her own before, which was pretty nerve wracking. When she lived in her previous town, she always had her brother, Sam, to rely on or one of his trusted friends, and if not there, her own friends always knew where to go.

But her brother and his friends weren’t here anymore, and neither were her own.

After she got her clothes on, Y/n pulled open her desk drawer and grabbed the lone pencil case at the very back.

As she peered inside, she concluded that she could roll one last joint to smoke before she has to talk to a scary drug dealer.

She sighed as she plopped down on the desk chair to empty the contents of the bag onto the desktop.

Her mind strayed to her brother, and wondered if he was having as good of a time as he’d hope to have at college.. 100 miles away. He was sure to make friends quickly, he always had. And in a way, he was the only reason she had acquired friends in the first place.

She recalled how he helped her with social skills her sophomore year, and how he invited her nearly everywhere he went with his friends. That lead to her trying pot for the first time:

“Remember to ask questions about whatever they’re talking about, people love talking about themselves.” He’d said in the car on the way to the party.

Y/n nodded, going over the mental list of social rules and conversation taboos. “How do I know when to ask the question?” She scrunched her brow together, eyeing her brother curiously.

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes on the road for a moment in thought. “I’d wait til they’re done talking, and ask about the most interesting part of what they said. If they don’t stop talking, just nod every once in a while.” Sam nodded, demonstrating.

“I know how to nod, asshole.” Y/n rolled her eyes, hiding a smile. Sam parked the car and turned off the ignition. “Alright, kid. You ready?” He said with a hopeful smile and raised eyebrows.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“And the safe word is?” He asked as she opened the door, just barely. “Dude can we call it anything besides a safe word?” She pleaded like an embarrassed child.

“Okay, okay, what’s the ‘code word’?”

“ ‘Dude, wanna Budweiser?’”

“Excellent. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.” He looked at her eagerly as they walked instep to the crowded and roaring house.

About twenty minutes into the party, Y/n found Sam in a circle near a corner of the smokey room, and walked faster to join him.

Ready to bail, she nudged her brothers elbow as he took a hit of the fresh blunt. “Uh, uh, no way. You’re not bailing right now. You haven’t even tried any party activities! Like this, I bet this will soothe all your little worries.” He held out the weed and the people in the circle eyed her with anticipation.

“Is this her first time?” Someone whispered reverently as if they were in church. Sam nodded for Y/n, their eyes locked in silent conversation.

After a few moments’ pause of her eyes boring into his, Y/n let out “Why the hell not.” and gathered her bearings before the inevitable coughing ensued. “Atta girl!” Sam praised, and the others clapped.

A blush rose to her cheeks as she put the tip to her lips and sucked lightly. “More more more, C’mon Junior, I know you’ve got it in you!” Sam’s friend, Derek, encouraged quietly.

“BUTNOTTOOMUCH!!” Sam chided urgently.

The silence made Y/n uncomfortable, so she closed her eyes and decided the amount she had taken was probably sufficient and quickly passed it to the person next to her like she’d seen many times before.

“Now hold it for a sec!” Sam instructed. Y/n’s eyes filled with shock and her cheeks puffed out.

‘You have to hold this stuff in??’ She’d thought.

“Someone put that Superfly record on! Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, folks, my sister’s getting stoned for the first time!” Sam declared from the top of the chair he occupied.

The room cheered and raised their cups in their direction, and the skunky aroma of pot permeated the room even more.

The funky sounds of Curtis Mayfield started as Sam addressed his sister again. “Alright let it out and then take a little breath in at the end. SLOWLY.”

Y/n did as told and the girl next to her patted her back “Congrats, sweet girl, you are about to be so toasted.”

Y/n cocked her head slightly like a confused puppy and then the realization spread across her face:

The rising pressure and burning sensation tingling up her chest and throat.

Y/n let out a deathly gasp and cough, hacking severely through the intro to Pusherman.

Sam’s friend offered some water in front of her seat now at Sam’s feet in the chair. He hopped down and patted her back roughly.

“Just wait sis, no need to fear, it’ll stop in a sec just keep breathing.”

She nodded her head, offering a thumbs up. Once she was able to regulate her breathing again, Sam put the water in her hand. As she opened her hot, teary, eyes, the world was blurry. But that didn’t matter because she was THIRSTY.

She quickly gulped the water down as the circle quietly giggled. Y/n set the glass down again on the table and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“So how do you feel?” Sam asked with a proud smirk on his face. Y/n’s eyelids hung lower than her usual anxious state allowed her to, and the whites of her eyes were tinted a precious baby pink. Her cheeks were still tear stained from coughing, but a content smile rested on her lips.

If she heard Sam, Y/n didn’t make it known for the first moment as she observed her surroundings for the first time. She took a deep breath before responding and glanced around at the part of the party that wasn’t currently glued to her.

The funky menagerie of instruments encouraged her shoulders to move on their own as she turned to a dress the group. Y/n let out a breathy laugh and shrugged. “I dunno, man, I feel.. warm and fuzzy all over like a blanket fresh from the dryer.” She said wholeheartedly.

The group laughed endearingly. Before she could be swept away with the song again, Sam boogied his way over to his sister and spun her around wildly like he’d done a million times in their living room.

“Sam, sam, SAM! The room is spinning enough as it is, don’t ruin this for me!” Y/n complained as her brother steadied her by her shoulders.

“So, dude, still want that Budweiser?” He asked smugly. Y/n rolled her eyes and flipped him off, dancing her way to the kitchen, her mouth practically watered for something sugary to fill the new and aching hole in her stomach.

That was also the first time she was able to leave his side at a party and talk to people on her own.

Y/n noticed how she spoke to multiple new people without feeling like her heart was about to burst out of her throat, conversation was easy to make, and people thought she was funny! No one, besides her brother, had ever described her as funny as far as she could recall.

After they’d left the party that night, Sam beamed at her from the drivers seat of his Bronco like a proud parent on the first day of kindergarten.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked, mildly concerned. She stared at the cuffed hems of her black corduroys and her red high top sneakers.

Sam lurched over the console of the vehicle to mess up her hair and pat her shoulder, “What do you mean ‘wHy ArE yOu LoOkInG aT mE LiKe ThAt?’ You TALKED to people! You made FRIENDS! Those people are going to talk to you at school on Monday, I guarantee it.” He boasted.

A smile crept across her lips, though she didn’t want it to. “You really think so?” She asked. Her high had worn off by now, leaving her feeling calm and grounded. Sam beamed at his sister, he’d never seen her look so at ease among others. Y/n couldn’t help but be proud of herself, too—she’d managed to have a great time, and not only did she refrain from embarrassing herself and her brother, but she made him proud.

Sam never felt embarrassed at his sister’s common faux pas, but Y/n spent much of her time alone berating herself after any interaction. Especially if it was one her brother invited her to. It felt good to skip that part after a night out.

He glanced over at her momentarily before turning back to the road. “Dude, you have no idea how many people came up to me to ask me where I’ve been hiding you. Sara J told me you ‘were a riot’, and that she expects me to bring you to her house party next weekend.”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, who knew the best way for her to make friends was drugs?

As she twisted the end of the joint to finish it off, she heard her father knock on the door.

“Hey, hun, are you almost ready? I gotta head out.” His voice muffled by the masonite separating them.

“I’m actually going to walk to school today, but I’ll see you tonight.” She said as she tied her laces and cuffed her jeans. She slid the joint behind her ear and fixed her headphones on top to hold it in place.

She looked to her shelf above her radio, skimming her collection of tapes spanning many persuasions, from metal to new wave, alternative to pop and folk to metal, it was all there.

Sam and Y/n went through all of their tapes when it was time for him to leave a month ago, deciding they’ll trade tapes whenever he comes home for breaks.

She chose four tapes to take to school with her: The Smiths, Anthrax, Dio, and Siouxsie & the Banshees.

The Smiths was one of her brother’s but Anthrax, Dio, and Siouxsie were some she recently bought for herself.

“Alright, darlin’. Have a good one, love you.” He said before leaving. Y/n’s father, Johnny, was a very quiet man, much like herself.

He didn’t ever do anything besides go to work and come home, but that’s as only because he was an easy man to please. Johnny enjoyed the simple things in life, and was a very proud father.

Something his children benefitted from was his ability to trust and let them make their own mistakes.

Or he was highly inattentive, one of the two.

Either way, Johnny was a good and honest man. Which is why he took a new job in Hawkins to help Sam pay for his fancy college. When their dad presented them with this opportunity, Y/n had no choice but to be enthusiastic for Sam’s sake. He deserved to go to the college he worked so hard to be accepted into.

But inside, Y/n was screaming and self-destructing. She’d just gotten settled with her new friends, no longer needing to rely on pot or Sam to be comfortably social.

Now she was to go to a new place, without her brother, to finish out the final two years of high school on her own.

Horrifying.

Which brings us back to this morning, Y/n walked steadily on the the road to the school while The Smiths floated through your ears.

“…To die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege, is mine…”

She quietly sang to herself as she saw the roof of the school peek over the horizon and the road got busier with cars entering the student parking lot between the middle and high schools.

Y/n stood next to the school sign momentarily before slipping the pre-roll into her empty cassette case. Todays objective was to get a name, and then eventually proposition them.

She opened her Walkman to exchange The Smiths for Anthrax and let ‘Antisocial’ blare in her ears before walking into the school.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

‘They’re no different than Sara, Ricky, Jordan, Matthew, Ann, Marty, and Charlie, right?’ She thought, comparing some of the party kids to some of her friends she left behind.

They had all seemed so intimidating at first, she was sure she’d never see the day they looked in her direction, let alone invite her places, but they did.

‘If cool people think you’re cool one place, they will in another’ she remembered Sam say.

Y/n walked to the end of the hall to her locker, taking out most of her textbooks but keeping three for her first classes.

She also grabbed the novel she chose for English to annotate, luckily it was one she’s read before. She sighed and quickly flipped through the pages for the familiar parchment scent.

She was startled out of thought when two boys slammed into the lockers next to her, grappling for a notebook and yelling playful obscenities at one another.

Y/n took a step back to avoid catastrophe but not before one boy could jerk his elbow backwards and hit her directly in the chest, sending her backwards and causing her headphones to be knocked down around her neck.

As she stumbled, expecting to meet the hard linoleum beneath her, a rather tall figure caught her arm before she could fall.

The fighting had ceased when a male teacher, Mr. Barker, intervened, snatching the note book from one of the two boys.

“Brandon, Jeffery, Principal Higgins’ office. Now.” He, well, barked. As the crowd dispersed, y/n remembered the hand on her arm.

“Are you okay? That was some hit you took.” He said releasing her arm. Y/n whipped her head around to meet a pair of shining brown eyes, a mop of black hair, and very impressive cheekbones belonging to a younger teen boy.

“I- uh, yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” She struggled, rubbing her sternum. The Anthrax track had started over, blaring quietly from the ears of her headphones.

“You’re new aren’t you?” He asked, leaning against the lockers next to them. Some other boys convened behind him, not so subtly listening to the conversation.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s my first week. I didn’t think I’d need spidey senses to survive high school, but- yes. Yes, I’m new.” Y/n settled before she started rambling about Peter Parker. Awesome start. Could’ve been worse.

Thankfully the tall boy chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Mike Wheeler,” he introduced himself. “and these are my friends Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair.” He nodded behind him as they waved kindly.

She noticed that they all wore the same shirt, sporting a devilish character with some medieval weapons and.. dice? ‘Hellfire Club’ it read.

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” She said nervously while she shut her locker and slung her backpack over one shoulder. She hit the pause button on the Walkman, stuffing the device into the bag.

“Is that Anthrax?” Dustin asked. Her head snapped up quickly, “Yeah! You listen to them?”

He smiled and shrugged, “On occasion, but more recently I’ve been getting into Metallica.” He nodded eagerly.

A smile rose to y/n’s face, “I love Metallica.” She nodded.

The bell rang, signaling that the heart warming but awkward encounter had to end. “I’ll see you guys around.” She said shutting the locker door to walk past the group.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later, y/n.” Mike joked with finger guns. She laughed as she continued to class while the other two boys chastised him for the corny joke.

Perhaps friends wouldn’t be so hard to come by after all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the beginning of biology, Y/n got paired with a girl named Chrissy Cunningham, and from the look of her perfectly white Ked’s, matching skirt and cardigan set, and senior charm necklace, she was obviously Miss Perfect.

And rightfully so, Y/n quickly learned, because Chrissy was almost a saint.

“Hi, I’m Chrissy.” She said quietly, putting her books on the shared table in front of her. Her eyes sparkled with genuine kindness and her ponytail was as bouncy as her walk had been when she sauntered over.

“Y/n,” she answered, becoming shy all over again. “I know,” Chrissy giggled quietly. “You’re new! Everyone’s been asking about you.” She beamed. Chrissy’s presence became very comforting to y/n suddenly, though she couldn’t place why.

“So are you any good at bio?” She asked casually, flipping to the page written on the board.

Y/n copied her actions and opened her book too. “I’m good at finding answers in the textbook..” she whispered as the teacher pulled down a chart of the human body.

Chrissy snickered quietly, resting her forehead in her hands to avoid being noticed. “That’s about as much as I can do, too.” She replied. “I’m sure if we collaborate, we’ll make it out of here together.” She answered keeping her eyes to the front. Y/n nodded, silently agreeing.

After the lecture, Y/n and Chrissy spent the rest of the hour completing the questions over the first chapter and getting to know each other.

Y/n learned that Chrissy was indeed the head cheerleader shocker, likes Blondie, Madonna, Pat Benatar, and Duran Duran, plays tennis and golf recreationally with her parents and boyfriend, and enjoys a nice margarita on the weekends.

Chrissy learned that y/n spent a lot of time by herself since the move to Hawkins and her brother’s move to college. She quickly gathered that Y/n and her brother were best friends and thought it was quite endearing. Chrissy listened to her talk about the friends she had, the parties she used to frequent, and the books and music she spends her time with now instead.

“My boyfriend, Jason, his parents go out of town for, like, two weekends out of the month and he throws some of the best parties. You HAVE to come with me sometime!” She patted y/n’s hand urgently.

Y/n hesitated, considering for a moment if she was ready for that atmosphere again but surrounded with unfamiliar faces, and no safety net to fall into if rejected by her peers.

“Okay,” she said carefully while Chrissy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“but,” y/n continued.

“Ugh, I hate buts!”

“I just wanna make a few more friends here first, I can’t be following you around like a lost puppy the whole time.” She shrugged.

Chrissy pursed her lips, considering what her new friend said, trying to place herself in the shoes of someone with only one friend in a brand new place.

She couldn’t. So she took Y/n’s word for it and nodded understandingly.

“Well even if you won’t come party just yet, I’d love to hang out soon, you’re really easy to talk to.” Chrissy smiled.

Y/n’s heart warmed and she couldn’t help but smile herself. “That’d be really nice.”

The bell rang and the girls gathered their things and walked to the hallway. “Oh!” Chrissy grabbed Y/n by her jacket sleeve and pulled her to the side of the hallway.

“If I don’t see you before the day is over, here’s my phone number! I have my own line, so thankfully you won’t have to talk to my parents.” She giggled as she scribbled on a piece of ripped notebook paper and handed it over.

“Thanks, I’ll call you later?” Y/n asked, Chrissy nodding almost immediately.

As Chrissy started walking away, Y/n realized Chrissy would probably be the person to ask about the commodity she was in search of.

“Chrissy, wait!” She called surprisingly confident compared to her demeanor before class. Chrissy spun on her heel abruptly before reaching her boyfriend and came jogging back to her new friend, much to his confusion.

“What’s up?”

“I, uh, need to ask you about something..” Y/n whispered, losing all the confidence she had just exhibited.

Chrissy was confused by the sudden seriousness, but nodded. “Do you, um, happen to know… anyone I can get some..weed..from?” Y/n tried to calmly say.

Chrissy couldn’t help but laugh a little at y/n’s timidness. “Oh my gosh, y/n, it’s just a little pot.”

Y/n breathed a small sigh of relief that marijuana wasn’t a taboo subject with her new friend. “Find Eddie Munson,” Chrissy whispered, Y/n committing the name to memory. “I hear he’s the safest dealer around here.”

She started walking away before the bell could ring again, “See ya! Call me!” She yelled over the tops of passing heads. Jason craned his neck to see who the heck his girlfriend was having such an important conversation with.

Y/n waved to Chrissy as she met Jason’s line of sight briefly before averting her gaze and turning quickly to her next class.

She caught the door to the English room with her hand and swung it open before the bell rang for the final time.

Y/n breathed deeply, relieved she made a friend, got a name, and got to read more of her book for the whole hour before lunch.

She made herself comfortable in the back corner of the room, next to a quiet red head wearing headphones around her neck.

The girls eyes met y/n’s and offered her a small smile, which y/n returned.

She rustled around in her book bag for her paperback escape and a pencil to write with.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Wilson began, “please continue to read quietly and annotate your chosen novels, you may listen to your record tapes if you would like, but if I can hear it I’m taking it.” She raised her brows seriously as the class stifled laughter.

The girl next to y/n quickly put her headphones on and hit play, the faint sounds of Kate Bush began quietly emanating from them.

Y/n quite liked Kate Bush, and decided against getting out her own Walkman to listen to the other quiet girls music instead.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The last five minutes of class, everyone was packed up waiting patiently for the bell to ring, except for y/n and the quiet girl in the back, too caught up in their own little worlds to have noticed the time going by.

The trill of the bell was jarring to both of them, so much so, the red head jumped hard enough she knocked her headphones askew.

She struggled to regain control of her breath as the rest of the class rushed through the door to get to the cafeteria.

Y/n didn’t know whether to ask the girl if she was okay or to go on about her business, but during that decision making process, the girl caught y/n staring.

In a panic, Y/n squeaked out, “Kate Bush?”

‘Nice.’ She mentally facepalmed.

The girl scrunched her brow briefly, taken aback, but taking a full breath. “Uh, yeah. You a fan?”

Y/n nodded, “yeah, Hounds of Love is a, uh, great album.” She zipped her bag shut with all of her things tucked inside.

The other girls face softened and nodded in agreement. “It’s all I’ve been listening to lately, honestly.” She confessed with a small smile.

Y/n smiled back, “I do that with about every new tape I get, I completely get it.” She said, her chest tight, not allowing enough airflow for much more conversation.

“I’m Max,” she said as she closed her own bag and fixed it over her shoulder.

“Y/n.” She nodded as they both walked out of the room. “Well, Y/n, I’ll see you around.” Max said, her soft smile fading as she slipped her headphones back on and walked the opposite direction of the cafeteria.

The hallway was mostly free of traffic, making the trip to the cafeteria very short. Y/n stopped in the doorway and searched all the tables.

‘Now, Eddie Munson, where do I find you?’ She thought, skimming the room. Her eyes fell upon a blonde ponytail, blue eyeshadow rimmed eyes raised, meeting her own. “Y/n/n!” Chrissy squealed, rushing over to you.

“Come sit!” She urged. Y/n’s eyes went wide, looking over to the table Chrissy was sat at previously. First of all, it was full, second of all, y/n did not like the way Jason looked at her. It wasn’t aggressive or anything, but definitely unsettling. Or perhaps she was reading too much into her anxiety.

“Actually, I was going to use this time to locate this Eddie Munson, where do I find him?” Y/n asked quietly, nodding to the maze of lunch tables.

“Good thinking!” Chrissy nudged y/n’s shoulder with hers. “He’s gonna be at the table with all the kids wearing the Hellfire shirts.”

Hellfire.

“Thanks so much, Chris, I’ll catch up with you later!” Y/n started into the cafeteria, eyes searching for the kids she met earlier.

It didn’t take long to find the table of white and black shirts, currently occupied by Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and a few other unfamiliar faces.

Before she could make it to the table, Mike spotted her and waved. When he saw she was approaching him with her brow furrowed in determination, he stood in a panic, as did Dustin and Lucas. The boys looked amongst each other in fear and began bickering chaotically.

“She’s coming over here, why is she coming over here?” Dustin whispered urgently across the table to Mike

“I don’t know, ask her when she gets here?” Mike shrugged.

“Why don’t you?” Dustin asked with anxiety piercing his words.

“If you wanna know so badly then why don’t you ask her??” Lucas quipped, narrowing his eyes on Dustin

“Shut up, she can hear you she’s literally right there-“ Mike started until Dustin spoke up when you got close enough to hear.

“Y/n! To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?” Dustin greeted.

“Actually, I’m looking for an Eddie Munson? I was told I’d find him with Hellfire.” She pointed to their shirts.

Their eyes widened. “You’re looking for Eddie?” Mike asked confused. “Yeah, are you guys friends with him?” Y/n asked.

“He’s our dungeon master!” Dustin replied enthusiastically.

Not knowing anything about DnD, Y/n gave him an odd look. “He’s your who?”

“He’s our club president.” Mike said pointedly before Dustin could answer.

“He said he was going to be late to lunch today, but we can tell him you were looking for him, if you want.” Lucas said assuringly.

“Well, he isn’t going to have any idea who I am, so how about-” she paused, taking her backpack off and getting out her notebook and pencil. “you give him this note for me?” She looked up at them for confirmation.

They all nodded as she finished writing in her gel ink pen.

“I heard you’re the guy to buy from. Are you free after school? - y/n l/n”

She folded it twice and handed it to Mike. “Can I trust you, Wheeler?” She asked quietly. “Of course you can trust us!” Dustin said wrapping his arm around Mike. “What are friends for?” He finished.

“I appreciate it. Can you let me know when he says something?” Y/n asks. “You got it!” Dustin assures.

Y/n laughs and shakes her head, “okay, thanks guys, I’ll see ya.” She says as she turns to leave.

She makes her way to the end of the hall, desperate to get out of the building. As soon as she shoves through the doors, the cool air meets her face with a kiss of fresh relief.

It soothes her tight chest, allowing her to take deep unhindered breaths, encouraging her shoulders to loosen up.

She sits on a patch of grass in the shaded spot next to the building and presses her hands to her face. Social interaction goes by so quickly in a panicked blur and fully hits her after it ends, leaving her to rewind and watch everything that was said, every move she made, and how wrong everything she did was.

No one’s laughing at you. No one has been mean. Calm down. It’s fine. We’re fine.

She spent the rest of lunch recharging outside, touching some grass, before she could hear the bell ring faintly, pulling her from her finally relaxed state and back to reality.

She entered the stuffy school building again, this time much calmer than when she left. Y/n made her way to her locker to exchange more books, not noticing the small herd of freshman boys rushing towards her.

“Hey!” Mike said as they approached. Y/n shut her locker, and fixed her bag to its place on her back. “We have word from Eddie.” Dustin said quietly. Y/n’s ears perked at that, leaning in closer to the group.

“What’d he say?” She asked.

“Well, at first, we had to convince him you weren’t a freshman because apparently he doesn’t do business with us.” Dustin scoffed with offense.

“But after that and your note, he told us to tell you to meet him at the clearing in the woods by the football field after school.” Mike added quietly.

“Okay, what?” She said quietly alarmed. Her eyes flashed subtle fright, recognizing this concept from many a horror movie

“Nononono, don’t worry it’s not what it sounds like, that’s where he meets so many other people.” Lucas said.

“Yeah, and we can take you there! Well we can’t be there cause Eddie would probably kick our asses, but we’ll show you.” Dustin assured.

Y/n looked between the boys, not picking up any malicious intent coming from them, only sincerity. “Alright, deal. Thank you guys.” She nodded genuinely.

“It’s not every day a few freshman such as ourselves befriend a lady of your class. Literally, upperclassmen are assholes.” Dustin shrugged.

“We’re happy to help.” Lucas added. The bell trilled signaling the second half of the school day was starting.

“Meet us at the football field after school!” Mike hollered as the three rushed past y/n to their next classes.

‘Sweet kids.’ She thought.

Y/n walked to art with relief, her self assigned tasks for the day almost over. Sam would be proud of all the socializing she’s done on her own today. He’d probably tell her how brave it was of her to put herself out there like she did.

Now all she had to worry about was meeting this Eddie Munson. Which, it sounded like she didn’t need to worry much at all. She feared she would say all the wrong things, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend a drug dealer.

But thankfully, Y/n’s secret weapon was locked and loaded in her handy dandy cassette case just waiting for the end of school to be used. That way, she’ll have a level head when she’s to interact with this mysterious and quite nerve wracking character.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n hated math.

She absolutely loathed the universe in which numbers and letters coexist and have problems with each other.

It was simply a language she didn’t speak. So algebra being the last class of the day made the hour drag on forever like a three hour Joel Olsteen lecture.

Before she resorted to shoving a pencil in her ear, the bell rang for the final time of the day.

Y/n was the first one out the back door, ready to get away from the fuckery that is math.

She fished her Walkman out of her bag, placing her Dio cassette inside and grabbing The Smiths case she stored her joint in.

The girl stalked over to the stands a few yards away from the high school, already seeing her freshman friends waiting for her.

Dustin was the first to spot her, followed by Mike and Lucas.

“There she is!” Dustin greeted warmly. A laugh rose to her chest as the young boy flattered her. “Here I am!” She rang back attempting to match his energy.

“C’mon, We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Mike suggested nervously, starting across the practice field towards the woods.

As the troop trekked across the green, Mike leading with Dustin, Y/n, and Lucas trailing behind, the nervous thrumming of her heart beat wildly in her ears.

The walk was quiet with the exception of the dewy grass swishing beneath their feet. The opening to the woods drew closer, and Y/n’s breathing began to tremble slightly, but she was brave.

“Alright, here you are.” Mike said coming to a stop. Y/n nodded with gratitude, “Thank you guys so much for going to all this trouble.” She looked to each of them.

“Just walk until you see a picnic table in the clearing, that’s where he’ll meet you.” Dustin directed.

Y/n watched the boys walk away before she entered the woods, first at a determined and brisk pace, but slowed as the trees grew thicker and less light was allowed through the branches.

Her breathing quickened again, and her head started to dizzy with unsettling thoughts. She paused in her tracks, practically ripping her headphones away from her neck and slamming them onto her head.

She jammed the play button down, the busy intro of Rainbow In the Dark filled her ears. The guitar cut through the anxiety in her chest and the bass of the drums beat fiercely through her head.

Y/n took more breaths and continued her walk to the picnic table she spotted ahead. By the guitar solo, she had plopped down on the table, resting her feet on the bench below, casting her bag down next to her.

She popped open the cassette tape with trembling hands, and plucked the joint out, smelling it longingly.

With a small smile, she fished her lighter from her back pocket and ignited the small flame against the twisted end of the joint, pulling the heat through the bud and filling her mouth and nose.

She puffed a few times to start it, hoping to take about half before Eddie Munson arrived. Y/n felt the tension release from her shoulders as she exhaled a trail of smoke into the space above her head.

Within a few seconds she was making herself comfortable, taking off her jacket and folding one leg under the other, bouncing her foot and bopping her head to the beat.

It was moments like this that she wanted to live in forever. It felt like time stood still when she was smoking outside and listening to her favorite tapes. These moments felt safe, like the warm blanket she described the first time she smoked with her brother and friends.

She smiled, and felt the surge of serotonin rush through her when her favorite lyrics played. Y/n sat puffing on the joint peacefully until she felt someone tap on her shoulder.

Y/n yelped, ripping the joint from between her lips and hiding it behind her back before turning quickly.

In her hazy state, her eyes met the silver rings adorning the hand that was slowly retracting from her, then traced up to meet the face of the body wearing the familiar Hellfire Club shirt.

Eddie Munson was intimidating, not because he looked dangerous, but because he looked at her intensely. His eyes looked dark, but a sun beam spilled across his iris to show the warm color they held.

He said something, and she watched his lips move intently, his words were muffled by the blaring music over her ears and it was only then she realized she needed to take off her headphones.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mumbled and took them off swiftly, brushing her hair behind her ears.

Dio still blared audibly between them as she struggled to push the STOP button all the way down. Every time she pressed the button it sprang back up, until she nervously whacked it on the edge of the table, finally getting it to stick and the play button to pop back up.

Y/n dropped the Walkman on the table and finally looked up to fully face Eddie Munson. “I’m y/n.” She said quietly, a tight smile on her lips as she closed her eyes briefly to escape making eye contact.

Eddie chuckled and nodded, “So I’ve heard,” he held out his hand in a friendly manner. Y/n shook it lightly, “Eddie Munson, resident freak of Hawkins, but I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough.” He plopped down at the table and looked up at her as he opened his metal lunchbox.

Y/n gave him a smile, “well, Eddie Munson, historically, freaks are the most interesting and successful people.” She brought the half gone joint to her lips and inhaled deeply.

Eddie’s eyes seemed to sparkle when his met hers again. A tender smile spread across his face and a flustered scoff escaped his lips, “and historically, those people aren’t appreciated or famous until they’re dead.”

Y/n shrugged, “you got me there.” Not knowing what else to say, she offered the weed to him. He looked from her to the joint and hesitantly took it. Eddie held it in his lips and he searched through numerous bags of herb and powder.

He took out three sizes of bags and then handed the joint back to Y/n before exhaling and asking “so, Dio?” He nodded to the Walkman between them.

“Oh! Yeah. They’re one of my favorites lately.” She nodded shyly.

“Dustin told me the new girl was listening to Anthrax earlier, but I thought my ears had deceived me, but now I see I was mistaken,” his eyes locked with hers, a passionate gleam danced in his eye as he spoke softly, “Congratulations, you’re the first girl I’ve met in Hawkins with some taste in music.” Eddie finished with a bow.

Y/n’s shoulders bounced with laughter at his dramatics. “Thank you, wow, no one’s ever bestowed me with such an honor.” She spoke with a bad accent then laughed nervously and picked at the peeling skin on her thumb absentmindedly—her brain channeling all of her nervous energy to her fingers and twitching feet.

She puffed on the roach, the smoke striking intensely at the back of her throat and rolling down through her chest.

Her eyebrows scrunched, signaling her small coughing fit, small thick clouds of smoke puffing out around her. She felt like a floundering fool, hacking into her fist and clumsily stamping out the butt of the finished joint.

Eddie held a secret smile on his lips, his hand pressed firmly against it to conceal his admiration.

Y/n looked so effortlessly beautiful perched on the table the way she was. She looked like she belonged here among the turning autumn leaves and reaching branches of the trees above them. Like it was all for her.

The sun shown through the branches to form a golden halo around the head of wild hair framing her angelic face.

Some strands of hair fell into her face as she let out a few coughs from the abrasive kick of the roach.

The lingering smoke snaked around her like a personal ethereal fog, sun rays highlighting their dance around her face and shoulders. She felt like a dream.

“So, Eddie Munson,” Y/n cleared her throat after gathering her bearings. “How much for a half?” She nodded at the bags in between them.

Eddie propped his head up with his hand, and picked up the bag with half an ounce of bud in it.

He held it out to her to check out. She took the bag from him gently and poked around carefully to inspect the product, leaning down and inhaling the scent deeply as if she were browsing for tulips or roses in a flower shop.

Eddie observed her, he hadn’t seen a Hawkins student, let alone a chick, take buying his weed so seriously. Usually it’s a quick swap and there’s little to no conversation involved. This felt different though, a good different.

“It’s, uh- fuck, $15 for a half.” He spewed out.

Her eyes widened, “you’re shitting me.” Y/n shook her head and laughed as if he were joking. “Consider it a welcome discount. Turns out I’m kind of like the welcome wagon.” He shrugged casually. Though Eddie exuded nonchalance, his heart thrummed against his chest at the pretty girl before him.

Y/n shook her head lightly and narrowed her eyes at the boy in front of her. What was he playing at? No one gives weed away like that.

Eddie eyed her with sarcastic impatience, scooting the bag to her inch by inch with his forefinger. Y/n pursed her lips, looking from the bag to Eddie, brainstorming ways to feel better about practically stealing the weed from him.

“How about,” she started slowly, Eddie scooted closer as she leaned forward invitingly, “I give you $20 and you roll some of this up for me.” She shrugged with an eyebrow quirk.

Eddie’s heart leapt at the offer and it took much restraint for him to refrain from barking out a ‘yes’ immediately.

He feigned deep thought, knitting his brow and leaning his head on his hand for dramatic effect. “That sounds… like an offer I cannot refuse.” He smirked with a flourish of his hand, then dug out a couple packs of rolling papers.

For the next hour, Eddie and Y/n sat (in fairly close proximity to one another) heads bent over the table to focus on breaking up the bud and rolling up an ounce worth of joints.

They each had their notebooks out, green scattered across the expanse of the open pages and the zigzag box inbetween them.

Eddie and Y/n snuck glances at one another, each admiring observing the others hands at work. At one point, Eddie reached between them and hit play on the Walkman, letting the Dio song finish.

“So, uh, Anthrax, Dio, who else do you listen to?” Eddie asked while keeping his hands busy and focus on the papers in front of him

Y/n fiddled with the seemingly microscopic paper in her hands. She typically didn’t have this much difficulty rolling up a joint, but Eddie’s presence may have something to do with the slight tremble in her hands.

With a small sigh she set down the project in front of her to take a break. She folded her hands under her chin and brought her eyes back to Eddie’s.

“At my house, Metallica is almost always on, they’re in my top five for sure, Ozzy is too. But lately Poison by Alice Cooper has been on a loop.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the wood, trying to get the nervous energy out through her hands so maybe she could return to rolling and keep busy.

“From that new album, Garbage, right?” He asked. Eddie placed the finished joint in the middle of the table next to the others he’d finished. He noticed that Y/n had difficulty with his brand of papers, he mentally scolded himself for not grabbing bigger ones at the gas station instead of the half size ones.

“It’s Trash, actually.”

“The rest of the album?” He asked confused.

“The name of the album, it’s called Trash.” She said softly with a light blush gracing her cheeks.

Eddie returned the soft smile unabashedly. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He eyed her abandoned joint and reached out with his finger to drag it back towards himself to finish for her. Y/n’s heart warmed in her chest, she never really liked rolling anyway.

“I think it’s best I take it upon myself to rescue this little guy, I’m not sure what you’re doing here, y/l/n, but this is tragic.” He eyed the joint and shook his head disapprovingly.

Y/n couldn’t help the smile that rose to her face, so she played it off with an eye roll. “My rolling skills are inconsistent, sue me! And I’m paying you the extra for your expertise, I shouldn’t be rolling anyway.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest matter-of-factly.

Eddie laughed at her quips, each and every one of them. He could sit there forever and roll joints for her. If he could afford it, he would stop dealing to everyone else in all of Hawkins and save every last bit of bud for the girl in front of him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll teach you how to roll properly one of these days.” He said down to the freshly packed roll, waiting to be sealed with a delicate lick to the seam.

He glanced up at her with his deep eyes boring into hers, as he ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of the small paper.

Y/n felt the weight of Eddie’s stare come crashing down onto her chest as soon as his tongue slipped out of his mouth to seal the joint she abandoned, and she couldn’t be more thankful she did.

Her breath hitched, noticeable to Eddie immediately, though she wasn’t aware the boy had any idea of his effect on her. Y/n directed her eyes back to her lap to fidget with her fingers.

Eddie loved the way she got quiet at times, it showed him she was probably as nervous as he was. He knew how intimidating he comes across, especially to new people, but she didn’t seem scared which confused him a little.

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, taking his chance to gaze at her while she kept hers trained on her high tops.

Eddie plucked a joint from the few he’d finished, sliding it between his teeth and digging out his zippo.

When she heard the familiar flick of the lighter, her eyes snapped up to his again. Eddie’s eyes met her once again and a small smirk found it’s way onto his face, exposing his beautiful teeth once again.

As he brought the flame closer to his face, his eyes stayed on hers, and hers on his. Y/n felt nothing short of entranced, the reflection of the light dancing in the dark ambiguous pools of his eyes. What had they seen? What was behind them?

Then her eyes dropped to the plump, soft pink lips that framed the mouth watering joint. Her gaze lingered longer than she wished it would have, momentarily wondering what his lips would feel like where her shoulder meets her neck.

‘Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.’ Rang through her head as her brain short circuited.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he called her as if it were her given name, his voice resembling that of velvet. Eddie propped his elbow up on the table to hand the joint up to Y/n.

The joint was inches from her face, Eddie looked to her expectantly, waiting for her to take a hit. Without much thought she leans down, her eyes fluttering closed, taking a long drag.

Eddie kept his hungry gaze on her, his heart quickened so much so that he feared it would pulse down his arm. His fingers were so close to her lips, too close. Eddie’s mind wandered to what his index finger would look like between her lips instead of the joint.

She leaned back, holding her breath for a moment with her eyes still closed. It was Eddie’s turn to feel entranced by the girl. To avoid blowing smoke in his face, Y/n tilted her head back to exhale through her puckered lips.

Eddie’s eyes traced down the column of her throat to the top expanse of her chest that wasn’t covered by her wide necked tshirt.

Embers sparked low in his stomach, quickly swarming up through his throat. He wanted to know so badly what her skin smelled like, and then mentally scolded himself for being a weirdo.

Y/n’s face shifted back down and her eyes opened to meet Eddie’s. When it struck her what she’d just done she couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. What the fuck was that???

“I’m so sorry, I dunno why I didn’t think to take it from you like a normal person, I must be pretty toasted,” she sputtered out, avoiding eye contact again and shaking her head.

Eddie smirked, you know the one. Mischief and amusement sat on his face and he loved watching her squirm.

“Hey, by all means, you’re paying the extra money, the least I can do is hold your joints for you.” He took a small hit and nodded to the joint in his hand expectantly, as if he were saying do it again.

Heat prickled in Y/n’s face, surely she was red as a cherry tomato by now. She leaned forward slowly, this time keeping her eyes on the joint between them, and then letting them drift to his tattooed forearm.

Y/n felt herself stop moving before her lips met the joint again, her eyes flitted up to meet Eddies but then took notice how he leaned in too, his eyes on her mouth.

He looked.. hungry? Longing? But she couldn’t figure any of that out. All she knew was the man wanted her to smoke, so by golly, she was smoking.

She kept her eyes on Eddie’s as she took her second drag. His eyes found hers again and his mouth went dry. Y/n could’ve swore she heard the softest sound fall from Eddie’s lips.

When she released it from her mouth, she blew the smoke off to the side but began to feel more brave. She sat still, closer to Eddie than she ever thought she would today.

His smile grew on his lips when he noticed she stayed close. Eddie wasn’t used to many people being so close, let alone a girl, a pretty girl.

She couldn’t help but return the look, causing his smile to spread larger. Butterflies erupted in her stomach just at the proximity of their smiles, both never wanting the moment to end.

Eddie’s heart sank as Y/n leaned back slightly, averting his eyes down at the worn table top. Before he could bring the joint to his lips, he felt it slide between his fingers swiftly.

Y/n snatched the joint from Eddie and held it for him the same way he had for her moments before. She returned to her previous closeness, making Eddie’s heart and other things perk.

Eddie let out a small chuckle before taking a pull himself. He tried to keep it slow, prolonging the moment. His hand reached up to gently hold her wrist, though he had no reason other than wanting to feel her touch.

Y/n hummed contently with a smile at the feeling. She wondered what his hand would feel like on her cheek, or in her hair, and other places.

After Eddie parted from the joint and exhaled, whatever trance they’d fallen under had been lifted for whatever reason and the atmosphere filled with uncertainty.

Y/n’s back straightened as she leaned back lazily on her hand to bring the joint back to her lips a final time.

“So, tell me, who is Eddie Munson?” Y/n smirked at him confidently. Eddies eyebrows raised in surprise, no one asks him about him. Casually, sometimes. But not about him.

“I.. don’t know what you’re saying, y/l/n. I thought it was established I’m a dungeon master, metal head, freak, who likes to play the guitar in his free time and Tuesday nights.” He shrugged nonchalantly, bagging up the remaining nugs and the 7 joints he rolled up for her.

Y/n’s jaw dropped when she heard the words play and guitar next to each other. She gave a playful gasp, “Eddie Munson plays the guitar in his free time and Tuesday nights?? Is there a reason it’s Tuesday specifically or?”

Eddie chuckled, “I’m in a band,”

“OH MY GOD, EDDIE MUNSONS IN A BAND?!” She grabbed her face mimicking a crazed fan. Eddie suddenly turned bashful at the strokes to his ego, even if they were jokes.

“So what is the name of Eddie Munson’s band?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

“I mean, if that doesn’t scream ‘metal’, I don’t know what does.” She moved off the top of the table to sit on the bench next to him, her back against the top and hugging one leg to her chest. Eddie sat facing her with one leg slung on either side of the bench. Their knees touched, neither one of them willing to scoot away.

Y/n felt as Eddie’s soft breath fanned across her cheek and neck when she turned to look at him. She was close enough again to smell the spice in his cologne, added with his natural musk and smokey scent. It made her throat tingle.

“That’s sick.” She finished and nodded sincerely. Eddie couldn’t get enough of the praise—of how seen and cool she made him feel just by being him.

“You should come check us out sometime..” He turned to sit like she did and nudged her arm with his. She scoffed and shook her head, her mouth started a response but was cutoff by the beeping of Eddie’s watch.

“Shit, uh, I gotta go,” He scrambled to his feet and packed up his papers and notebooks quickly shoving everything in his bag and lunchbox.

“Oh, no yeah, of course!” She said quietly, bummed their evening was coming to an end.

“If it wasn’t for Hellfire, I’d probably stay out here forever, but we’re starting the new- whatever,” he waved his oncoming words off as if she wouldn’t care.

Her heart rose, the butterflies making their way through her arteries spreading that warm fluttery feeling through her whole chest.

“If it wasn’t for Hellfire, I’d probably stay out here forever”

“No, no worries, really. I hope everything goes great with Hellfire and your new ‘whatever’” She smiled and started packing her things. She wrapped up the baggie Eddie prepared for her and stowed it in the same pocket of her bag that her tapes rested.

Before she could grab it, Eddie picked up her Walkman from the table and held it out to her.

She tried to ignore the dull shock that went through her body when their hands touched as she took it from him to put with the tapes. “Thanks.” She whispered.

He looked at her for a moment longer before saying, “C’mon, let me walk you through the woods.” as he slowly started in the direction of the football field.

Y/n slung her bag over her shoulder, admiring how Eddie looked when he was walking away. She sighed contently and walked towards him without a response.

She watched the dead grass and yellowed leaves pass beneath her feet as they carried her through the dimming woods, not bothering to look up until she almost walked straight into Eddie’s back, spotting his shoes first, right before knocking shoulders with him.

“Fuck, sorry.” She said as she looked up and resumed walking with him. He chuckled as they settled back into comfortable silence. They kept a steady pace, but didn’t rush the way Eddie originally had when his alarm went off.

“So, this ‘whatever’, what is it?” She asked after a minute.

“Oh, so, in DnD, the dungeon master—me, creates a journey, or quest of sorts, to send the other players on, and those adventures are called campaigns,” he looked to her with subtle enthusiasm. His love for the game evident on his face.

She ‘oooh’ed’ and nudged his shoulder to make him blush again. They reached the opening of the woods where her new friends previously dropped her off, and continued to the parking lot where they’d have to part ways.

“So what’s this new campaign about?” She asked, stopping at the edge of the lot, standing at the road she’d take home.

The sun had began to set, lighting the sky aflame in hues of soft pinks, oranges, and buttery yellows. It left everything tainted gold, especially her.

Eddie looked at her, taking her in for the last time that evening. His eyes scanned over her face—admiring every freckle, fine line, pore, and scar. He refrained from tracing her cheekbone, though he hoped he would get the chance to someday.

She looked as though she belonged in one of their campaigns—otherworldly, ethereal, not real.

He wanted to commit her eyes to memory, especially in this moment, the glassy finish from the weed, the enhanced color and reddened whites of her eyes.

“Well, maybe, you should just come to Hellfire sometime and find out for yourself.” He said with his devilish grin.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh, Munson?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, stepping closer to him daringly.

He laughed, indulging in her challenging manner. “That’s exactly how it’s gotta be, Princess,” her breath caught in her throat at the pet name—something no one has ever called her before.

“I can’t chance any spoilers reaching the guys, you know?” He said stepping forward til his face was achingly close to hers.

She bit her lip and looked down, confidence waning, until she realized she still needed to pay him. Y/n glanced to his hands—one in his pocket, the other hanging at his side.

She grabbed the money in her back pocket, all $35. “As much as I think that sucks, I’ll respect it.” She said to him with a sigh.

“This is where I leave you, Eddie Munson,” she took his hand and gently pressed the money into his palm. Y/n held it there for a minute, savoring the way his hand felt in hers, eyes never leaving his.

“Until next time.” She slipped her hand away from his. Eddie watched her intently as she walked a few feet before his brain could formulate a response.

“Which will be..?” He leaned forward, awaiting her answer. She turned around but kept her pace with a hazy smirk on her face. “Whenever I need more grass.” She shrugged.

“Which will be..?” He emphasized.

“Soon. And maybe even sooner if you show up to class more.” She said with her dreamy smile and turned back around to walk home.

Eddie watched after her until she wasn’t visible, the world suddenly tinted grey from the descending sun.

“Eddie! Are you coming??” Dustin shouted across the parking lot.

Eddie looked to the open school doors, light spilling out of the spaces between the boys gathered at the entry.

“Yeah, just gimme a sec! Patience is a virtue, you know!” He shouted back.

As he walked back to the building, he counted the money absentmindedly and a smile rose to his cheeks when he halted right in front of the door.

$35

Did she mean to give me all of this? Or is she that generous?

Dustin races to the door, curious about what’s got Eddie so late, and nearly takes him out in his urgency.

“Whoa-shit, Henderson! Watch it, would you?” Eddie said attempting to catching his breath from his near death experience.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Dustin cried, absolutely terrified he’d just ruined his chances of growing closer with Eddie with his eagerness.

Eddie recognized this in him—the want for acceptance. He’d felt honored that Dustin and the others had treated him with such kindness and respect since the semester started. He doesn’t recall many people holding him in such a high regard.

“No worries, dude,” Eddie said nonchalantly like water rolling off a ducks back. He wrapped his arm around the freshman’s shoulders as if he were his protégé.

“We’re all excited for the campaign, I’m the one that needs to get my ass in gear.” He brought Dustin to stop in front of the auditorium door.

“Now.. are you ready-“ Eddie pushed the door open with fervor, commencing his theatrics—ready to get into character. “To explore the Hidden Realm of Göshmar?” He spoke in a gravely, troll-like voice, much to Dustin’s delight.

“You bet your ass I am!”

The two raced down the aisles to the anxiously waiting group backstage, Eddie’s friends had gotten the table ready in his absence and fixed the lighting as he and Dustin entered.

“Alright, my little sheepies, are you ready to be utterly destroyed by the new campaign?” Eddie turned around dramatically when he reached his seat and wagged his tongue wildly like the demon on their shirts.

Everyone cheered and hollered, beating their fists eagerly against the table and stomping at the floor.

While Eddie was able to make the first official meeting of the year fantastical and vivid, there was a certain maiden that lingered in the back of his mind, making herself comfortable and leaving him with so many questions bubbling to the surface when he should be more focused on the dice rolls of the game.

What is she doing now?

Did she make it home okay?

I wonder what her favorite color is..She reminds me of orange.

Where did she come from?

Where did she dream of going? Probably somewhere warm.

He continued to chase the questions away and stick them in the back corner of his mind reserved especially for her, saving them for later.

She sat there, waiting patiently, perched on top of his stacks of questions like she did on the picnic table hours before, smoking a joint. He could picture her perfectly, seeing her lazily swing her high topped feet off the edge, back and forth.

Eddie Munson couldn’t shake this girl from invading almost every thought, but he absolutely did not want her to leave anytime soon.

In fact, he hoped she was smoking three of those prerolls all at once right now and all weekend til the half ounce was gone, so when Monday arrived she’d be slipping a note to him ready to meet up again.

Or, who knows, maybe she’d find him in person next time, perhaps take a seat next to him in a class if they had any together, or maybe at lunch..

One thing was for certain and it was that Eddie Munson had it bad; so bad, in fact, that every time he tried to close his eyes to sleep that night all he could see was her pretty face looking back at his with glassy eyes from their hazy afternoon.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x stoner!reader #eddie munson x anxious!reader #eddie munson writing

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twilightknight17 · 3 months

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Yesterday on P3R: jumping to conclusions, the time-honored tradition of taking my pet to the movies, questionable decisions, and more Tartarus!

So when you take Koromaru on walks, you can run into your other social links and it’ll give you points. Which is good because my daytime social links are suffering. I’ve already figured out a rough idea of how I’m gonna have to play them the second time around.

...not yet I’m not, but Koromaru’s definitely a good start.

Akihiko goes to meet up with Shinji, who still doesn’t want to rejoin SEES after “what happened two years ago”. Which is apparently different from what happened to Miki, who they mentioned before. Shinji refers to seeing someone die, and Ken, who is eavesdropping, has a major reaction to hearing that.

He apparently comes to the conclusion that Shinji, who he didn’t know before now, is related to his mother’s death two years ago. Which seems… like kind of a leap? Obviously I haven’t gotten the full picture (even though I know what happened to Ken’s mom), but right now I’m kind of thinking that the movie handled this particular character bit better?

We’ll see, I guess. Meanwhile, thanks to Koromaru, I finally managed to max a social link! August is WAY too late to be only on my first one. X’’’’’D But I went into this blind, so I’m not surprised.

The film festival has been going on for like… two weeks now? I dunno. I keep ignoring people inviting me to the movies to try to get my social links up. Which. Honestly I probably should have been going to the movies, since my academics are STILL at a 4. I’m not even gonna be able to start Mitsuru’s link this round at this rate.

But I did go see a superhero movie with Junpei, and a ninja movie with Aigis. And I tried to take Koromaru to the movies, but…

Let him watch the movie, you monsters!!

After that failure, it’s back to Tartarus, because some other idjit has wandered in. And another cat.

Honestly, I’m willing to buy the cats, but:

1. How are these people wandering into Tartarus in the first place? Why are they at the school at night?

2. HOW DO THEY GET SO HIGH? This person was on like floor 102. HOW did you get up there without getting munched??? Even if I took out the gatekeepers there’s still other shadows everywhere???

Whatever. X’’’D Rescue mission successful, so back to social linking and puttering around the dorm.

Ikutsuki calls us all to a very important meeting to announce that Ken is joining SEES as our newest member!

Sir, that’s great and all, but that is a literal child. He is in elementary school. Mitsuru and Akihiko are uneasy (for two different reasons), and I can’t really blame them! Sure, Ken asked to join, but it’s Ikutsuki’s job as the responsible adult here to tell him that NO, he is not ALLOWED to go into the nightmare tower to fight deadly monsters!

Honestly, how did you even get a SEES uniform made for him so fast, Ikutsuki?

Junpei is spending his days hanging out and still trying to talk to the pretty girl at the station. He asks to see her drawing when it’s finished, even though she’s still being very aloof.

I think he’s being very nice, actually. She thinks he’s weird. XD

I check in with Maiko, who has had a long talk with her parents. They finally explained why they’re getting a divorce, and she’s sad about it, but she understands. If they had just explained from the start instead of getting mad and hitting her, we might have avoided a lot of shit.

She does mention, though, that she has to pick which of them to live with. I don’t like either of them, but at least her mom didn’t hit her??? I told her it was her choice, though, and she was good with that until she realized that her mom might be moving far away. Then she wouldn’t get to play with me anymore.

I want this kid to be happy so bad.

Somehow yet another idiot has wandered into Tartarus, and there’s only a few days left til the full moon, so I guess I’m going to get them. As soon as I went in, Ken asked to be in the main team, and like… Kid, I know you’ve got a spear taller than you are, but do you have any training at all???

He’s a bless-user, though, so… helpful.

Idiot retrieved, time to go home and--

I have been asleep for five minutes, Pharos. Please. I know the moon will be full in a week. It’s okay.

Junpei actually manages to introduce himself to the pretty girl, only to realize that her hand is bleeding. He promptly freaks out and tries to help her.

This completely confuses her. She literally calls him weird for being worried about her. But as she’s leaving, she tells him her name is Chidori, and that she’ll be done with her drawing soon if he wants to come back and see it.

There’s one free day left before going back to school, so I head to the mall to pick up some new armor on sale, as well as browse the stuff at the antique shop.

(I have forgotten what that lady wants for the aojiru quest so I’m gonna have to look that up because ughhhhhhh)

It’s interesting that the antique shop weapons focus more on the effect than straight power. But at some point, straight power is gonna outclass them. I think that--

...you know what, let’s just head out before I laugh the shop down.

None of my summer social links are ready to rank up, so rather than spending time with any of them, I’m gonna take my last free day and try out working at the blue store. For some reason I thought this was a spa, but it actually appears to be some kind of accessory/crystal healing shop.

No velvet in here, but it does offer you the ability to recall forgotten skills for your personas, so I guess the blue is still appropriate. And working here ups my charm and academics! Plus, I have the Temperance bonus, so I have to level up my academics now?

Right?

…right?

……Minato pls you just gotta cram a few more braincells in there I’m begging you. X’D We’re literally going back to school tomorrow, and summer school made you NO smarter than when we left. God. Why this. XDDDDD

#Li plays P3Re #Minato's terrible horrible no-good academics stat #(It's not actually that bad but ughhhhhhh)

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nickgerlich · 4 months

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For Your Review

We see them everywhere these days. No matter where we turn, we see customer reviews for every possible type of product or service. Scroll down an Amazon page for any item they sell, and you will see reviews. Go to any clothing site or other online retailer, and you will see the same.

And then there are the aggregators of reviews, from Yelp to Trip Advisor and Google Maps. They are nothing but reviews, and in the case of Google Maps, a supplement to the mapping services they provide. I fully understand how Google Maps is in fact yet another search engine, so it makes sense for them to include them.

As customers, we also know that every time we spend money, we are invited to write a review, even if it might not be a flattering one. Why, it almost seems like we are drowning in a sea of reviews, they are so ubiquitous. A recently published meta-analysis of studies in this field confirms that online reviews do drive customer intentions.

I speak from experience. I use reviews religiously when selecting lodging and dining options. If a place doesn’t have at least four stars out of five—along with a sizable number of reviews—I’m going somewhere else. In fact, a 4.4 is often my threshold for hotels. I don’t like taking chances. When I am contemplating major purchases, I likewise dive into the reviews.

In the old days, all we had was Consumer Reports, a monthly magazine that featured in-depth reviews and comparisons by teams of product testers, and word-of-mouth. There were no online repositories to read. I guess we’ve got it pretty good, even if there are more reviews than we could ever read.

Online reviews can also help with a firm’s SEO—search engine optimization—because the higher the number of reviews, the higher the relevance, at least as far as algorithms go. And if the right key words are used in those reviews, meaning words and phrases closely aligned with the product or service offering, those too can boost your rankings.

So it makes sense that businesses would encourage you to write reviews, if only to get their numbers higher.But as much as I use reviews to guide my purchases, I had never participated in the process as a provider. I was only a consumer of reviews.

That is, until last November, when I decided to try my hand at it. Since I live in the Google Maps ecosphere, I started contributing words, photos, videos, and more, and have done so prolifically. You can check them out.

As a provider, I am privy to some back-end stats, which I find fascinating. No, I have no designs on being a food critic, although I do love writing about it. But to demonstrate just how much people actually look at these reviews, my photos have been viewed more than 456,000 times in two months, and my text another 43,000 times.

There you have it. Pictures really are worth a thousand words.

In the case of Google, they are crushing it. It’s yet another thing they do to keep people on their sites. So when I ask Google Maps to tell me “Thai food near me,” I not only get links and maps with clickable pins, I also get reviews.

To Google’s credit, they have gamified it to some extent, allowing reviewers and users to follow others, as well as have followers. Social media site, anyone? And you earn rankings based on how many reviews, how many photos and videos, etc., you upload. They also love lengthy reviews (meaning 200 words or more), although they do have upper limits on everything you post.

My M.O. as a reviewer, though, is only to post reviews if I have something good to say overall. I understand how complaining behavior works, and that we as consumers tend to be most vocal when we are unhappy. Happiness, as you might already know, is an expectation, so when we’re happy, we just go on.

Well, there is one glaring exception to my standard procedure, which was my stay at a Hilton Garden Inn in Tallahassee last December. I have stayed in hotels undergoing renovations before, and while there may be some inconveniences, they are usually minimal.

Except that one. I went on a self-righteous tirade, shooting and posting photos as if I were a city inspector. Oh well. You really can back old Dr. Gerlich into a corner, but when you do, he’ll come out fighting.

But I digress.

The abundance of reviews, though, could also become a hindrance. Information overload could be the result. The study concluded by saying that functional and emotional information elements are important, meaning cogent written reviews and pictures. Bingo. I aim to please.

And do businesses even read what people are saying? Absolutely. I have had many responses from business owners. While some felt like they may have come from AI, or at minimum were copy/paste responses used dozens of times before, I have also received many thoughtful responses that were too unique and well-written to have been artificial or mass-produced.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to review my dinner from last night at Jorge’s in Amarillo. It was good. And Google Maps knows I was there—because Google knows everything, right?—and has already been pestering me about my experience.

Dr “Five Stars” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #online reviews #reviews

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inslo · 2 years

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Updates…

So, perhaps you saw my post yesterday. Where did that come from? Well, I do have tons and tons of friends and tend to be a social butterfly as described by others, so it’s not like I’m all alone. I’m also not afraid of being alone with myself…I’ve taken many week long trips by myself and even hiked alone in sections of this country where there were signs everywhere that say “DO NOT hike alone.”

I feel like the problem of loneliness is stemming from the fact that I am such a social person that living alone just is taking a toll on me. One thing that helps me is being on the phone and talking to friends or significant others….while I’m doing my house work. I would be fine if the significant other was there, but I don’t really want to invite friends over while I’m doing all my chores because then I have to entertain them too. Yes, I have met a few who absolutely refuse to talk to me while I’m doing chores either because it might be too distracting to them or because they think I’m not paying enough attention to them.

Over a month ago, I re-signed up (only out of desperation) for Facebook dating, since It’s Just Lunch hasn’t been providing me with enough matches. I went out on four dates with someone from FBD. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re a great match. At least at this point in our lives. She bought a fixer-upper house in Fall of 2021 and she can do much of the work herself, however early in 2022, she hurt her wrist and the pain has been so debilitating that she can’t even open a bottle of water, thus putting everything on hold. On the third date she was asking me to paint her kitchen and mow her lawn. I have enough trouble and spend enough time trying to maintain my own house, I really don’t want to work on someone else’s house. Meanwhile, she was telling me about how she got a volunteer from her church to paint her bedroom, and she was complaining about the job he did. She also doesn’t know how to cook and at one point said “If you mow my lawn, I’ll microwave you some lasagna.” While not being able to cook isn’t necessarily a deal breaker, it’s the way she makes me feel that’s a turn off. When she tells me all the stuff she wants to do but can’t because of her wrist, I get overwhelmed and stressed. I saw into her home which was kind of a pig sty, that made the stress even more. I get it that a relationship is ‘work’ but especially in the early days of dating, I should feel at ease and a sense of joy.

This week, again only out of desperation, I signed up for Tinder. Even though this is not the type of person I normally am, I originally was thinking of making Tinder just for one-night-stands, literally just so I could get a few hugs being the M.O. Then I thought again when my last date from FBD was talking about how she saw the same people on Tinder and FBD. So I nixed that idea, but am staying on Tinder for now.

Yesterday, one of the breakdowns was caused by how I felt about online dating. If you’re a guy, the number one way to feel untrusted and like a felon is to try and meet a lady on line. I don’t get it with the “lets chat online before we meet for coffee” thing. Dude. It’s literally coffee. We can chat online for six freaking months, but until we meet in person, I’m not going to know if you’re using out-of-date photos. I’m not going to know if you are unable to put your phone down for five minutes (whether for texting or calls…I’ve had both types of dates.). I don’t know if you’re the kind of person who’s just looking for a free meal or coffee…I’ve met a few of those as well. Or maybe you show up to meet me and leave with another man…I’ve had that too. Just for God’s sake meet for coffee at a freakin public Starbucks if you like their profile and they ask. For me, chatting online before having coffee feels like it’s supposed to take the place of having coffee and we go right to a dinner and an activity. On top of that, then when we actually get to having coffee together it feels like we covered all the topics that I would normally talk about at a one-hour coffee date and I feel like there’s little to talk about even though I like the person. For me, my required first date is coffee. I’m done buying meals for people who spend the entire date on their phone and/or leave with another man.

Yesterday, I turned to my topical bible for some guidance. Genesis 2:18 says “Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for[e] him.”” I continually ask God why am I alone. Why do I have to be left alone?

Isaiah 41:10 says “fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God;I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” I am certainly trying to keep this in mind, but it certainly a challenge when you’re lonely for some companionship or just human company.

On another note, I was listening to an NPR podcast last night and a few dots may have been connected. My first fiancé, Amanda, kept insisting I was on the autism spectrum. She (and her controlling parents) were nut cases and I spent four years in therapy to recover from that mind mess. As part of that four years of therapy, I had myself evaluated for Autism and none could be found. A few months ago, my cuddle friend who I no longer hang out with said that it is difficult for her to read whether or not I enjoy something. I am aware that I don’t typically express outwardly (particularly) feelings of joy, even though I am enjoying something or am happy. The podcast topic was about reading each others minds/body language. It was mentioned that Autism spectrum folks go through special training on how to gauge what others are thinking and how to express their own feelings. It was said that everyone should go through that training, not just those on the autism spectrum. Just a thought and something I could look into further.

ADDENDUM: Apparently it seems one of my break downs was all for nothing. Apparently the Tinder app has some glitches that have been in existence since 2019 involving disappearing messages and matches.

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roguestarsailor · 2 years

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i know im just not used to this new place and it hasnt been that lone and all that but i feel sooo lonely like almost depressive amount of loneliness. i just feel so alone everywhere i go. i see so many people in large groups of friends, see people and their lovers going about their day, so many people are just together and i’m just by myself. fuck even the people walking their dogs make me feel so alone. i spend an obscene amount of time at work and they all are in relationships (married, engaged, long term) and they just speak in “we”s and “us” and have done so many things together with their partners and it makes me feel even more alone!! theres so many things to do here but doing it alone isn’t fun. i want to try so many restaurants but its not worth it to eat alone!! i dont think ppl should eat alone ever!!! and its also not the greatest way to have conversations with these people because they have such a stable life and its just the same everyday whereas i guess everyday is an adventure of sorts but not in a good way but in a make sure i map out my day and make sure i know the right way and watch out for the bad people and be cautious about where i’m walking and its like -- i miss my family, my friends, the places i just know where to go. other people have mentioned being alone and then they go on to say oh but i met my romantic partner and now i attach myself to them and its like OKKK! we get it! youre in love!! & codependent! good for u!! honestly, when i ask people where they’re living, i can figure out their relationship status and what stage of their relationship they are in.

i actually really want to spend my time with single people. find some interesting folks but my god everyone is with someone and they have their persons. i do run this loop where i’m genuinely just confused, like do you not value your freedom?? do you not like the independence? what do you have to sacrifice for this relationship? can u truly be yourself or do u carve out yourself to fit into that relationship and its normal? what is so special about being a relationship anyways? is it purely out of survival (i.e. rent)? which case, i get sad about because fuck i wish i could split rent and snuggle with someone later that night (don’t get me started on how s*xually frustrated i am because everyone is having s*x here i guess??? good for them!!!). maybe i would sacrifice so much to be in a relationship?? because i feel that thats the only way i can get anything out of this city.. it’s just like this back and forth of i should just be in a relationship and learn what that entails instead of assuming the worst and being a bitter old croon when i hear other ppl in relationships; maybe i learned that it might not be all that bad and it might make me a better person??? and maybe i’ll complain less about being alone!! maybe i’ll actually be a happy and pleasant person to talk to!! maybe i can still be myself?? whatever that means???

anyways, i miss stability. i miss my family and my friends. and i miss just having things to do and not feeling so alone. my roommate is inviting me to hang out w her friends tomorrow which is nice but truly i don’t feel like im up for it. i feel so sad and lonely that i am not taking up the opportunities to socialize and get back into meeting people. i want to seclude myself in my room and just lay in bed all day....which might be a sign that i’m not the best shape and i need to figure out how to be myself again...

#amandathoughts #sad thoughts hour

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #second madame nie #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #what does the fox say

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Brothers Finding Out a Lesser Demon with a Crush is “Moving In” on MC

You know, I like to show the good sides of our boys a lot… But how about the ugly for today? Let's let them just being mean, nasty, possessive little demons, huh?

Full disclaimer: I almost didn’t post this because I received an answer post from @diavolosthots that ended up being distressingly similar to this idea about 3/4th of the way through drafting it. I’m posting it anyway because of the time I’ve already sunk into it but in exchange I will absolutely encourage you to read from @diavolosthots if you aren’t already. They’re a big reason why I’m making content to begin with and I love what they’ve done. Warning: their blog is a LOT less fluffy than mine (they probably wouldn't be into my stuff 😅) and has NSFW content so be prepared for that going in. If that’s not your thing then just give them a pass, cool?

Check out the Masterlist for more!

Warnings: Violence, Bullying, Cyberbullying, Cannibalism(?), Murder, Yandere-ish

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Lucifer

Is honestly offended for them.

Don’t they know the caliber of demon MC rubs elbows with every day? Do they honestly think they’d stand a chance? Any one of his brothers would be more deserving than some lesser demon suitor and that even INCLUDES Mammon.

But of course, the real reason they’d stand no chance is because he wants the MC too and he’s not planning on sharing with or losing to someone who isn’t even worthy to be stuck under his boot...

He may lay down some… “discreet” hints for the poor demon to look elsewhere.

Things like advising Diavolo to make some emergency changes to the classes at RAD so they no longer share any class together or watching the demon extra closely for any minute slip up he can flag them for. If he could have them expelled for a dress code violation, he’d do it no sweat.

Okay, "discreet hints…" Flagrant misuses of power… Same difference right?

He may never come right out and say they should leave MC alone (why dignify the guy with such a response?) but if looks could kill then his “competition” would be utterly decimated by now. Especially if he ever catches the two in the same room... Yikes.

Mammon

Oooo buddy, he ain’t happy. He doesn’t even like sharing with his brothers and now some rando wants a piece too?? Nuh-uh. No way.

Takes the more direct approach and just confronts the guy when the MC isn’t around. It's good for the demon that Mammon doesn’t like resorting to violence if he doesn’t have to. Heated words and a threat or two will be exchanged then they can go their separate ways.

That can be the end of it if the guy backs off (as anyone with sense should). But if not…

When he makes a threat, and he’s serious about it, Mammon makes good on them.

He’ll come back to the House one night a little beat up, maybe with a few nicks and scratches. Of course he’ll want the MC to play nurse for him and he’ll be delighted if they accept (even if his tsundere ass won’t say it).

The lesser demon apparently dropped out of RAD the next day. No explanation given. He didn’t even step foot back on the school grounds to do it...

Of course, everyone’s sure there’s no relation between the two. I mean, this is the same Mammon we’re talking about… right...?

Leviathan

It’s a miracle he even found out but now that he knows he’s pissed. He’s not the Avatar of Envy for nothing.

Look, he might be a shut-in and not worth all that much but he’s got to be better than some lesser demon guy! He’s the third born and he has a freaking navy for crying out loud!!

Will likely leave his room for the first time in who knows how long to follow the MC to RAD. Once he’s got a face to the name, that’s all he needs for his hatred to really get going...

He will make this dude’s life a living hell with the best tool a shut-in has, the Internet.

He’ll dedicate a freaking week to digging up dirt on this bozo then start releasing it out to everywhere he frequents. Not a single sock of that dirty laundry is getting left out. All of his most embarrassing secrets are laid bare for the Devildom to see.

He’d cover his tracks, of course, so nothing can be traced back to him. The MC is probably none-the-wiser to who’s spreading all this hot gossip but his brothers know right away.

Once the dude’s social life and pride are in utter ruin, he’ll invite the MC over for a movie marathon to celebrate! He might even get a little more cuddly than usual... His MC is with him and that’s how it ought to be.

Satan

Pffft… That’s cute. Real cute they think they stand a chance. He’d wish them luck but he also kind of wants to stab them so…

On the one hand, he knows he probably shouldn’t waste his time but on the other he just can’t resist the call to absolute devastation that his inner rage is forcing on him...

His new goal is to utterly undermine the new competition in every way, mental and physical, which means he will take every opportunity he can to demonstrate just how much on another level he is.

Gets nitpicky and corrects the guy’s every move. If he says something wrong in class, he’ll berate him for it. Make a social faux pas? Well now the whole school is going to know about it.

Doesn’t stop there, though. He will do everything in his power short of throwing the first punch to try and instigate a fight with the him. He knows that if he technically starts it then the punishment will be on him, but the other way around he can say, “Hey, he’s the one who punched Wrath incarnate. What was he expecting would happen?”

Any resulting fight between the two would be a very one-sided bloodbath. He will not hold back at all and stop when he damn well feels like. The guy will be in whatever the Devildom equivalent to a hospital is for weeks...

If the MC tries to ask him about his behavior, he’ll gaslight them and change the subject. He doesn’t really like indulging in the more violent side of himself in his day-to-day life but some things just can’t be helped, can they?

Asmodeus

Honestly not as bothered as the others are. He knows they stand zero chance, so why worry? It’s bad for the skin.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to sit back and do nothing. Oh no, a zero chance could always become a one, even five percent chance if you’re not careful.

Asmo’s preferred method of ridding competition is like a mixture of Satan and Levi, but Oh. So. Much. Worse.

Lesser demons can be astonishingly easy to charm without them noticing and he is the best charmer of the family. He’s pretty popular to start with but suddenly he’s talking to almost everyone he comes across until, well, he’s got the whole school listening.

From there it’s child’s play. Suddenly, the demon’s friends won’t talk to them. People stare and whisper about them in the hallways, is what they’re saying true? Doesn’t matter. Asmo could feed them anything and they’d believe it.

He’ll make sure they feel isolated, alone, and hated by everyone they speak to and they won’t even know why. Going to RAD at all will be like walking into a prison. Ideally, they’ll just stop going, and then tada! Competition no more.

Of course, he could just charm the competitor to look elsewhere, but then who’s going to be the example to the others? Nobody needs any more “Zero-Chancers” popping up around the MC, right? You’re welcome, sweetie~! 😘

Beelzebub

He’s trying not to be that guy, he really is… but since the MC is involved… Really? You actually think you got a shot there, buddy?

Probably going to be the brother most likely to try and let the guy down gently at first, but make no mistake he will make sure he knows it’s a lost cause.

If the other demon still insists on being a competitor though… Alright.

MC pretty much goes under his “protection” from that point on. If they’re at RAD at all, Beel is not far behind. Not exactly looking outright intimidating but always just…. there.

But if the dude so much as enters a room with them he’ll be sure to stare him down and mention that he’s hungry a little louder and a lot more often.

To the MC that may just be typical Beel, but everyone else there knows Beel has swallowed lesser demons whole in the past. And for a lot less reason than this...

When Beel gets territorial he can be a subtle about it, but terrifying nonetheless.

Belphegor

Would laugh in their face and give zero shits about it.

Like, even as the weakest sibling he could snap them like a toothpick and that’s not even getting to how they probably know jack all about the MC anyway. What even is this idiot??

Starts pulling some casual “pranks” on the guy to grief him at first. Little things like tripping him up with his tail or taking his things and hiding them in inconvenient places.

The lazy part of him hopes he’ll get the message and back off but that sadistic side really hopes he doesn’t so he’ll never talk to him directly...

When, of course, the dude doesn’t back off because he doesn't know he's supposed to, his pranks start escalating. A textbook in the school pool suddenly becomes an explosive curse put on their backpack. A kind of homicidal passive-aggression, if you will.

By some unholy miracle the guy manages to last a couple days after a barrage of progressively lethal murder attempts pranks, Belphie’s inner laziness and frustration will finally get to him and he’ll cut the passive from his aggression.

Much like with Mammon, everyone finds out that the demon dropped out of school quite suddenly. But he’s also seemed to have gone dark from all his socials and his friends can’t seem to find him anywhere...

Concerns were raised with Lucifer but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about starting an investigation... It’s not the first time he’s covered for his brothers after all. 🙄🤷‍♀️

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

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moistmailman · 3 years

Text

SCP AU part 2

*Jaune is pushed into a room with a bag over his face before the door shuts on him*

Jaune, slightly muffled: H-HEY! I SAID LET ME GO DAMNIT! *cautiously reaches for bag and touches it before ripping it off*

Jaune, immediately turning to the door and banging on it: I SWEAR TO GOD YOU GUYS BETTER LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW! WHAT KINDA FUCKED SOCIAL EXPERIMENT IS THIS?! *continue banging*

Jaune, continuing his assault on the door: MY MOM’S A LAWYER BY THE WAY! SHE’LL SUE YOUR ASSES, I SWEAR IT! SHE’LL SUE YOUR ASS SO HARD THAT WE’LL GET FINANCIAL CONPENSATION FROM YOUR DAMN GRAND KIDS! *bangs louder* YOU HEAR ME! HELLO.....IM SERIOUS.....nobody can hear me, can they?

Pyrrha: I can hear you.

*Jaune squeaks loudly before getting in a karate stance while turning to see a tall redhead girl around his age with vivid green eyes sitting on a bed*

Jaune, internally: What the fuck?! How long has she been here?!

Pyrrha, awkwardly waving: Hello.

Jaune, awkwardly waving back: Uh..hi.

*an awkward silence fall on the two, with the blonde slightly blushing and the redhead staring at him with interest*

Jaune, internally: Holy shit, she’s pretty. My god, she absolutely stunning. She has got to be the prettiest girl I’ve seen in my li— Wait Wait, Jauney-Boy, you're getting side tracked. What the fuck is going on in here, and why did those guys put me in a room with a very hot girl with really long and smooth legs— GAH, HORMONES THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS TO ATTEND TO!

Pyrrha: *giggles while slightly blushing*

Jaune, terrified:......w-was I t-talking out loud?

Pyrrha: Hmm? Oh no. *smiles teasingly* Why? What were you thinking about?

Jaune, voice cracking: N-nothing. Nothing at— *clears throat* H-hey, I’m Jaune.

Pyrrha, smiling: Pyrrha, charmed.

Jaune, internally: Wow, even her name is pretty.

Pyrrha: *snickers cutely*

*Jaune looks around to see what she’s snickering at to see nothing*

Jaune, shrugging it off: So uhm....they tricked you with the social experiment, huh?

*Pyrrha thinks for a moment, before a coy smile gets plastered on her lips*

Pyrrha: Yeah, you can say something like that.

Jaune: Damn. Who the hell are these people, and you have any idea what they even want from us?

Pyrrha, shaking her head: Your guess is as good as mine.

Jaune, sighing: Great. Isn’t today just wonderful. Should’ve known that offer was too good to be true. *slide his back against the wall until he’s sitting* Teach me not to read documents people tell me to sign.

*MEANWHILE, SOMETIME LATER*

Cinder, sighing: Wow, great plan, Roman. We are learning things about her so fast.

Roman: This takes patience, Cinder.

Cinder, frustrated: The boy haven’t even said anything to her for the past 5 minutes! He’s just sitting his ass on the floor. The boy is socially handicapped!

Roman: That’s not my fault! You're the one who pick him!

Cinder: Well you were the one to make this stupid plan in the first place! How will the boy even ask her about her powers in the first place if he doesn't even know that he needs to ask?!

Roman: Geez, I don't know! How did I know about you being an only child?

Cinder: Be—

Roman: Because I asked you as a curious person who wants to know about my friend! Now believe it or but if I got under the assumption that you started reading my mind, you bet your ass I would ask you about it, especially if I was trapped in a small room with you!

Cinder: But why would SCP-312 answer the question if she knows what we're trying to—

Roman, urgently: Hush! Something's happening!

*MEANWHILE*

Jaune: *has been moving uncomfortably on the floor for the past 5 minutes*

Pyrrha, scooting in her bed: Hey, you wanna sit next to me? The floor looks pretty uncomfortable.

Jaune: Really? You're alright with that?

Pyrrha, smiling warmly: Of course. The bed's large enough. *Pat beside her* Here.

Jaune, slightly blushing: O-oh, Uh, sure then. Thanks.

*Jaune walks over to the bed before sitting down, his cheeks crimsoning*

Pyrrha: There, is that better?

Jaune: Y-yeah. T-thanks.

Pyrrha: Youre welcome:

*Once again the room fall to silence as the boy looks everywhere but at the very attractive girl he's shoulder to shoulder with*

Jaune, internally: God, what's wrong with me?! I just got kidnnapped yet I'm more worried about this super hot girl sitting next to me! I can barely form coherent sentences around her! Damn, my hands are all sweaty too! She's so close! I can feel her body warmth! Just calm down, Jauney. Calm down already. Take a deep breath, and try to strike up a conversation with her. This silence is deafening.

Jaune, taking a deep breath: So, what—

Pyrrha: *Facing Jaune with a warm smile*

Jaune, voice wavering: —y-y-your.......*turns away in embarrassment*

Jaune, internally: For god sake! I can’t get used to that smile! It’s like beautiful personified. God damnit. I need to keep a conversation going, at least until those guys come back! Okay think! What did mom tell me about talking to girls?

A memory starts playing inside Jaune’s head with his mother’s voice: Remember Sweetie, women love wedding rings, but they love babies more.

Jaune, internally:.....is...is that it?! Really?! That’s literally the only advice my mother has ever given more for girls. How the hell is baby propaganda supposed to help me in this situation?! What kinda— okay, calm down. I have another parent. What did dad tell me?

Another memory starts playing in Jaune’s head, this time with his father’s voice: Son, I have absolutely no idea how I managed to make your mother fall for me. I am not the man you should be asking. You’ll probably have a better shot asking the stars that question.

Jaune, internally:.........I’m going to die alone, aren’t I? My parents managed to make the opposite sex so completely alien to me, despite me having 7 sisters! What he actual fuck?! This is an absolute disaster! This can’t get any worst!

*Jaune then remembers one crucial detail of the predicament he’s in*

Jaune, internally: OH GOD! I FORGOT I WAS ALSO KIDNAPPED! WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS TODAY?! I’M PROBABLY GOING TO DIE IN HERE AND I CANT EVEN STRIKE UP A CONVERSATION WITH THE GIRL WHO WILL POSSIBLY DIE WITH ME! I AM A DISGRACE TO EVERY ARC TO EVER LIVE! I CAN FEEL MY ANCESTORS LOOKING AT ME WITH DISGUST! OH GOD! WHAT THE—

*Suddenly Jaune’s nerves instantly drop and a calm aura surrounds him, almost like it just completely disappeared and got replace with an warm and inviting energy*

Jaune, confused: Huh?

*The weight on Jaune’s hand then became evident, as he looked down and found Pyrrha’s hand gently lying on his, almost reassuringly*

Jaune, slightly blushing:.........

Pyrrha, in soothing tone: So, tell me about yourself.

Jaune, no longer feeling nervous for a reason he doesn’t know why:...........well, I just graduated from college.

*MEANWHILE*

Cinder, frantically: WRITE THAT DOEN, WRITE THAT DOWN!

Roman, equally as frantic: I AM! I AM!

#rwby #pyrrha nikos #Jaune arc #arkos #pyrrha x jaune

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ageofevermore · 3 years

Text

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs.

add yourself to my taglist

It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot.

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual.

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort.

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize.

“Y/N.”

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod.

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth.

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel.

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--”

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl.

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips.

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart.

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door.

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises.

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating.

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing.

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget.

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.”

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting.

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth.

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,”

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this.

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress.

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it.

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend.

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.”

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them.

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs.

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such.

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy.

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.”

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now.

taglist (urls with a strike through won’t let my tag) →

@deionswannabegirl @killingbxys @mauvesdior @mischiefandi @dmonchld @waddlenut @tanakaslastbraincell @hollandsxheart @quacksonhehe @tothemoonandbackx3000 @stiles-o-dylan24 @tikapollak @tomthetease @spookybooisa @geminiparkers @teen--marvel @rogersparkerbarnes @sarcasticallywitty15

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic #anthony mackie #anthony mackie x reader #sebastian stan x reader #anthony mackie fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x actress!reader #chris evans #robert downey jr

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Quarter of a Century - Harry Styles

a/n: i wanted to do a more massive fic to celebrate my bday with you all but i’ve been all over the place all week and this is all i could put together :( but i hope you’ll like it! anyway, here is a little something from me to you for the occasion of me turning 25 (ehhh)

word count: 1220

masterlist

Harry knows you don’t necessarily like parties, let alone the ones that are celebrating you. Growing up you were never the kind of kid to beg for a birthday party, you just usually invited over your best friend and watched movies in the basement, ate candies and had a sleepover. You didn’t like the attention on you, all the looks, the greetings, that everyone wanted a word with you. It was just not you. You were the kind of person who let others be the star of the show while you stood at the sidelines and probably this is why your relationship with Harry was so balanced out. While he was the well-known, famous, center of the attention person in the spotlight who enjoyed every bit of praise thrown in his way, you were always more comfortable being the support system, the one in the back who fell out of the preying eyes and nosy questions. The two of you managed to keep your relationship a secret for almost two entire years and with all the hype that follows your boyfriend everywhere he goes, that’s a huge accomplishment for sure.

But from time to time, Harry liked to push you just a little. Just enough to get you out of your shell and accept the attention and praise he thought you always deserved. All together he has posted two pictures of you on his social media platforms that put you in the center of the attention, talked about you just a handful of times during interviews and appearances, but he always made sure not to take it too far. Just enough to bug your comfort you are all too used to.

Today has been another occasion of his attempt to make you the main character and there’s an occasion for that. You’ve turned twenty-five, an age Harry thinks of as a kind of milestone in one’s life.

“That’s a quarter of a century, you can’t just not make it to be a big deal!” he always told you when your birthday came up in previous conversations. For you, it was just another number, the middle of your twenties and one step closer to your thirties.

If you’re being honest, you don’t necessarily like to think about how now you aren’t even considered a young adult anymore. You don’t feel like an adult and even though you fully function as one, it’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that time is inevitably ticking over your head, because… time waits for no one.

You knew he was planning something. He couldn’t keep secrets from you, his eyes always talked for his mouth for you, after spending three and a half years together and being friends for over five, he couldn’t hide anything from you fully.

He made your best friend take you out for a day at your favorite spa, getting massages, all kinds of treatments, get a manicure and pedicure and eventually get your hair done as well. You left the building pampered and very aware the reasoning behind the activities. And just as you expected, arriving back to the home you are now sharing with Harry, you found your closest friends there, the living room all decorated as they started singing Happy Birthday to you.

It was a pleasant surprise. Not an over the top party with hundreds of people, just about thirty of your inner circle, together for the occasion of your birthday.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry pouted his lips at you when you were done with your first round of thanking everyone for coming. Tucked away in the corner with a drink in your hand you smiled at your boyfriend, cupping his scruffy cheek in your other palm.

“Of course not,” you chuckled softly as a smirk tugged on his lips and leaning down he kissed you gently.

“I know you hate birthday parties, but you deserve the praise, baby. Wanted to make it special for you,” he hummed, kissing your temple as you melted into his embrace, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“I know. Thank you, H,” you smiled and you really meant that you weren’t mad at him. How could you ever?! When you know damn well Harry always wants the best for you, sometimes knowing you better than you know yourself.

Now the party is officially over, the last guest left ten minutes ago and you are about to start cleaning the place up when Harry stops you.

“I already got it covered. A team will be here in the morning to take care of it.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you give him a look, but deep down you love that you don’t have to be the one to wash all the dishes and clean up the mess.

“Mm, but I did,” he smirks, pulling you into his arms as he kisses you tenderly. “Did you have fun?”

“I did. I don’t even know how you got so many of my friends together, it’s impossible to make plans with them!” you chuckle, snaking your arms around his neck.

“It took a lot of planning,” he smirks, very much satisfied with the work he has done. “Want to go to bed?”

“Yeah, I’m so tired,” you huff, your body loosening in his hold so his arms are the ones holding you up mostly rather than your legs. He tightens his embrace around you, hoisting you up so you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you into the bathroom with ease, turning the water on to warm it up as he sets you on the counter, pushing his lips between your thighs. You throw your arms up above your head, signaling him that you want him to undress you, and he chuckles softly, but bunches the fabric of your shirt at your stomach before pulling it over your head and off of you, pressing a chaste kiss to your naked shoulder as he drops the shirt into the hamper in the corner. You don’t stop there, extending your legs so he can rid you from your pants as well and this time he doesn’t leave it without a comment.

“Thought you turned twenty-five, not five to need help with undressing.”

“Do you not want to take care of the birthday girl?” you pout at him, tilting your head to the left. Smirking he pecks your lips as his fingers start to work on the button and zipper of your pants.

“Oh, I do, baby. That’s all I want in life,” he smirks, nuzzling his nose against yours as he yanks the pants off of your body, making you chuckle as he struggles a little to get it past your ass that’s planted on the counter. When he is done, he takes care of his own clothes while you free yourself from your underwear and hop to your feet once you both are naked.

“So, do you want to have birthday sex in the shower or in the bed after we showered?” he prompts with a cocky grin, but you arch an eyebrow at him.

“Why not both?”

Harry gifts you with a toothy smile as he wraps his arms around you, naked chests colliding as he drags you into the walk in shower.

“That’s the answer I wanted to hear!”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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oligbia · 3 years

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Hi hii~

Could you do a truth or dare (or 7 minutes in heaven) Eijiro Kirishima short story (maybe nsfw if possible heh), please? 🥺

Keep up the great work!! 💕

Of course you can darling! Im super excited to get any and all requests and im really excited to do this one! Thank you so much for your support, it means the absolute world to me. I haven't written a lot of smut with guys recently, ive been on more of a wlw thing, so im a little rusty hehe. . .

I honestly didn't do a lot of editing on this once it was done, I had it going like "all the way" then realized Kiri wouldn't do that on the first day- anyways it'll make sense. If you want more Kiri stuff I can totally give you more, just let me know :)

7 Minutes In Heaven

Pro Hero!Eijiro KirishimaXReader

NSFW, Minors do not interact

Warnings: Sexual behavior, giving and receiving oral, making out in a closet, mild swearing

A hero gala was an event like none other. It was a night were all Japan's hero's and their dotting staff would all assemble to accept awards and receive rankings. It was a night for citizens to see their favorite hero's dressed to the nines and hash out who was truly the best hero on social media.

And, for starter hero's, it's was night to get shit faced, since the likelyhood of them reciving any award was slim anyways.

Pro heroes Red Riot, Pinky, Cellophane, and Chargebolt where no exception to this. They were all still pretty low in the ranks of heroes, especially considering they were all fresh out of UA only a few years ago. The only two UA graduates to jump into the hero world right were no surprise Deku and Dynamite. Deku practically left UA the top hero, entering in at the 5th rank overall. Dynamite took a little work, he still wasn't a fan favorite, but his work was undeniable, he was easily starting in at rank 10.

The formerly-known bakusquad sat comfortably at the back of the gala room, all a little tipsy. They watched as Bakugou was being practically held on a child leash by Best Jeanist, forced to be on best behavior.

Denki watched the room quickly, his shifting glances moving quickly. His eyes landed on your figure somewhere across the way.

"Oh my god, is that Y/N? We haven't seen her since UA!" His voice wasn't at all hushed, people around the table glancing at him with slight disgust.

"Woah, that totally is!" Sero joined in on the ogling. "She's like, totally hot now!"

Kirishima looked your way, practically chocking on his champagne. He let out a few strangled coughs when his eyes landed on your form. The dress you were wearing was long and elegant, showing off your curves and hugging your waist. He was able to see your toned arms and watch as they elegantly moved as you spoke.

Mina poked Kiri's now flushed cheek. "You always had quite the hots for Y/N in UA, huh? And she wasn't even in our class."

Kirishima rolled his eyes. "I didn't 'have the hots for her.' I just thought she was...manly."

Denki and Sero puckered their faces, making kissing sounds, their drunken state throwing them back to a bunch of 14 year olds, rather than the 24 year olds they were now.

Kirishima waved them off, shaking his head. Mina abruptly stood up, waving you over. It was no time before you turned around, your gaze meeting her as you flashed your smile at her.

Kirishima swatted at Mina, trying to pull her back into her seat. "Mina, sit down, you're embarrassing us."

"Oh please, those two are embarrassing. I'm helping."

Kirishima watched as you moved your way to his table smiling softly. "It's great to see you all. I haven't seen you guys since we graduated."

Kirishima wanted to say something, but his tongue was sadly caught in his own mouth.

"Crazy, I know! I see you're doing well as a support gear engineer, that's exciting!" Mina made easy small talk, her foot kicking Kirishima's calf under the table. "You know, Kirishima here has been needing some new support gear!"

You smiled at Kiri, your own face going a little red. He was much older now. His jawline was more defined, his build larger. You couldn't tell from his suit how much stronger he was, but you could tell he was clearly built and taller. His hair had grown out a bit, it neatly tied back into a manbun.

"Oh? Does Fatgum not have someone who can make it for you?"

Kirishima smiled, laughing awkwardly. "He does, or, we do. They just, aren't as good at you."

"You haven't seen my work since UA, it's not l that improved. I still have a lot to learn before I'm good…"

Kirishima shook his head. "Don't say that, you were always super smart and made us amazing gear!" Kirishima blushed at his sudden enthusiasm.

Mina stood up, offering you her seat. "Y/N, would you mind staying here with Kiri for a moment, I think Denki and Sero needed to excuse themselves but are a little, ya'know." Mina made a drinking motion with her hand, elbowing Sero and Denki to follow her lead. The two had been snickering the entire time while simultaneously drooling over you.

The trio walked off, leaving you alone with Kirishima. Kirishima chuckled softly, lost for words again.

"So, how's the side-kick life?"

Kirishima looked up at you. "It's alright. Fatgum is an amazing hero. He's super manly! And working for him is great too! Especially when he feeds me during patrols!"

You smiled at him, that smile that drives him crazy. "Well, you're definitely in the favor of girls everywhere. Your girlfriend is probably thrilled to have such a stong-"

"I don't have a girlfriend!" Kirishima practically leaped from his seat to assure you that he was indeed single. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain some composure. "I don't have a girlfriend. I am, completely single."

"Oh. I just figured someone as amazing and pretty as yourself would have a girlfriend." You looked down at your fingers, fidgeting with them as a soft blush spread across your face.

"You think I’m pretty?" Kirishima looks over at you, flashing you a small, toothy, grin.

"Is that weird?"

"Not at all! I think it's manly!"

You both laughed awkwardly. You both sit in silence for a moment, an incredibly awkward silence.

Kirishima spoke up first. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You shook your head no. Kirishima nodded. Muttering a “cool, cool” under his breath.

Shortly thereafter, much to Kirishima’s relief, Mina returned with Denki and Sero. She smiled at you, her gaze warm. “These two are a bit over the edge and about to make a fool of themselves. I think we should go to Kirishima’s place and continue this party there, yea?”

Kirishima groaned. “Why my place? You have your own house, Mina.”

“I know, but yours is so much bigger and it’s closer to the venue.” She winked at Kirishima and glanced at youquickly, dropping hints. Kirishima, a little confused, gave up any sort of bickering he had.

“Fine.” He scratched the back of his neck, smiling at you. “Did you want to come, Y/N?”

You nodded, thanking him for the invitation. Mina threw her hands up excitedly, grabbing Denki and Sero, pulling them out behind her. Kirishima stood up, offering you his arm. You rested your hands on it, allowing him to lead you out of the venue.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Denki called out, laying sprawled out on Kirishima’s living room floor. Sero was laying near him, half asleep. Mina was cast over a chair, her legs dangling over one of the armrests. You were seated comfortably on Kirishima’s couch, wearing a pair of his sweats and hoodies. He had offered you the change of clothes when you came over with the group, wanting to keep you comfortable. To him, seeing you in his clothes was some fantasy of his. The way his clothes hung off your smaller body was adorable and was doing something to him he wasn’t sure he could explain.

Sero shoots Denki a look. “Isn’t that game for middle schoolers? People our age play, I don’t know, checkers?”

Mina perked up at the mention of the game. She was, of course, the matchmaker of the night, determined to land Kiri a girlfriend out of the girl he spent his entire high school experience crushing on, or, at least, give him a solid one-night stand if you both were willing. “Don’t be such a drag, Sero! It can be fun. We’re 24, not 64.”

Mina spun herself around in the chair, sitting cross legged and facing the group. She looked over at you and Kiri, who was sitting a considerable distance from each other on the couch. “What about it, you two. Are you both down?”

Kirishima shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of Mina and her antics.

“Why not?”

Kirishima’s face shot to face yours, his eyes wide in surprise. “I’m in too, I guess.”

Mina clapped her hands together. “Okie dokie, zappy, you get us started.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

After being a few hours into the game, Denki was officially dumbed out and Sero was asleep on the couch. Mina giggled, looking over at you. “Okay okay Y/N, truth or dare?”

You hummed, thinking. “Truth.”

Mina groaned. “C’mon, pick dare for once!”

You shook your head. “Please, last time I did, you had me eat a spoonful of that random shit Kirishima had in his fridge.”

Kirishima chuckled, “I swear to you, it’s Bakugou’s.”

Mina sighed. “Fine. Back in your UA days, was there ever someone you had a crush on?”

Your face grew red as a blush laid across your cheeks. “What?”

Mina teased you, “A crush! You got to build hero gear for all those classmates and see them in their trained glory. . .you had to have liked someone.”

“I mean, there was someone. But it’s long done, they wouldn’t have liked me anyway and we’re grown up now.”

Mina pouted. “C’mon, Y/N, that isn’t true. You’re so pretty, any guy would have liked you! Who was it?”

You inhaled a deep breath, looking at the ground, Kirishima and Mina’s eyes both peering daggers into you.

Denki, finally coming back to reality, slurred his words together. “It was definitely me, wasn’t it?”

You shook your head. “In your dreams.”

Denki pouted, but Kirishima let out a breath of relief. His chances of knowing you maybe had liked him back at one point was the right amount of reassurance he needed.

You looked at Mina. “If I tell you, you have to swear to me you’ll keep quiet.”

Mina motioned a zipper over her lips. “Sister’s honor.”

You lean over your end of the couch, pressing your face against Mina's ear. You cup your hands, whispering into her ear the name she was waiting for.

And like gears working in clockwork, Mina was working on the ultimate plan to get the two of you alone.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Kirishima, truth or dare?”

“Dare. Hit me with the best you got.” It was well into the early hours of the morning now, the hero gala long over. You still were at Kirishima’s house, playing truth or dare. You were sitting closer to Kirishima now, sharing a blanket over the two of you, legs brushing softly. His hand was constantly inches from yours, the idea of holding it constantly toying in the back of his mind.

“7 Minutes in Heaven with Y/N.”

Both of your jaws practically hit the floor, a deep crimson spreading over both of your cheeks. You looked away from Kirishima, trying to hide your fluster. He placed a gentle hand on your knee, speaking to you softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can take you home right now if you want.”

Thoughts spread through your mind, deciding what to do. You liked Kirishima, you had for years now. You did at UA when you worked to design his hero gear, and your affections never wore off, watching him do his job as a hero sidekick only fueling the admiration you had for him.

“I’m okay with it.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The closet in Kirishima’s room smelled like fresh laundry, his calonge, and teen-turned-young-adult pheromones. It was dark, you were hardly able to make out the tall and well-built man in front of you, his muscles and long mane outlined softly. He went to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, accidentally bumping your smaller form. He rushed out a frantic apology, the blush growing on both of your faces.

“Hey, Y/N, who was it you liked at UA?”

You looked away from him, trying to hide your face. You mumbled softly to yourself some answer he wasn’t able to hear.

“What was that?”

You remained quiet, not budging. Kirishima gulped, swallowing the massive lump of pride that was making his mouth dry. “I guess a closet during a game of truth or dare is a pretty good time to tell you,” Kirishima fumbled over his words a little, grabbing for your free hand. “I always sort of liked you. I mean, I liked you when we were kids at UA. But then we graduated, but, I guess I never really stopped. I’m not sure how manly that is-”

“I like you too.”

“...but you probably like heroes like Midoriya or Bakugou- wait what?” Kirishima stopped his rambling, trying to find your eyes in the dark. He locked onto the faint glimmer of your eyes in the dark. He was always one to think that being manly meant taking a risk from time to time, and he was everything that was manly.

Kirishima pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips to yours. The hand that wasn’t holding yours wandered to cup your face, holding it close to him. You gasped into the kiss, his sudden embrace taking you for a surprise. His lips were surprisingly soft, tasting faintly of cherries and champagne. The kiss was initially gentle, but, feeling your body press flesh against his, Kirishima dipped your head, deepening the kiss.

The hand that was grabbing yours found its way to your waist, tugging you closer to him. You sighed into the kiss, Kirishima’s breath warm against your skin. His tongue gently brushed across your bottom lip, his teeth accidentally grazing yours in his rushed attempt to draw you both even closer.

You pulled away first, looking up at Kirishima with half-lidded eyes, painting slightly. You licked your lips, taking in the remaining taste of his cherry taste. Kirishima let out a husky and shaky breath, still holding your waist. He blinked a few times, realization hitting him over what he had done.

"Oh my God, Y/N, I am so sorry, it isn't manly to not ask for consent first and-"

"Kirishima, it's okay. I agreed to come into this closet with you like we were kids or something."

Kirishima pulled you against him again, hovering his face against your ear. His voice was soft, growing husky with his hushed volume.

"Then, can I kiss you again?"

You nodded softly, anticipation growing.

"Perfect." Kirishima grabbed your face, smashing his lips into yours. Your hands traveled to hang off his neck, gently toying with his long locks. Kirishima gently moved his hand from your waist, letting it rest on your lower back as he pulled you even closer to him. His tongue licked your bottom lip, gently pulling it with his bottom lip. You mewled softly into the kiss, letting his tongue meet yours as it lapped up your mouth.

Needing air, Kirishima pulled off from your kiss, going to press kisses along your jawline and neck. He pressed fast and quick butterfly kisses to your neck, your hands tugging at his hair. He grunted, frustrated with the restraints of his hoodie you were wearing. You gently pushed him off, pulling his hoodie over your head, landing somewhere amongst his closet. Kirishima smiled at your now exposed top, your breasts filling out the bra you were wearing.

"You are absolutely stunning." He caressed your cheek with his thumb. "Can we keep going?"

You nodded, and Kirishima took no time going back to kissing your neck, this time leaving sloppy open kisses, his tongue leaving wet and sloppy marks along your skin. His teeth grazed at your skin ever so slightly, sending shivers up your spine. His teeth grazed over your sensitive spot as you moaned out involuntarily. Your hand quickly shot up to cover your mouth, aware of the fact that people were sitting in Kirishima's living room, possibly hearing you.

Kirishima pulled away, looking at you confused. He gently moved your hand from your mouth. "Why would you want to be quiet? You sounded so pretty?"

Kirishima, without hesitation, nipped at the sensitive part of your neck, desperate to hear you moan again. He kept nipping at your neck, sucking at the skin softly to sooth it. Your little mewls and moans nagging him on and on.

**************

Kaminari looked up from his watch. "Mina it's been forever, go let them out."

Mina, pressed against the door, giggled as she returned back to Kaminari and Sero, who was now awake again.

"No way! Those two are totally going at it. I successfully am the new cupid boys!"

Sero groaned. "Are we going to stay here all night then? I don't want to hear that all night."

Mina shook her head. "No, we'll leave then be."

The trio showed themselves out, but not before Mina could slip a couple pain killers and condoms into your belongings on the way out.

******

Kirishima's hands dipped to your ass, lifting you up. He held you one handed, his strong arms and large hands being bigger than your small form. You pressed lazy kisses to his neck as he fumbled for the doorknob behind him, trying to open the door to his bedroom.

After you had kissed up and down his jaw and neck, leaving smears of lipstick from the hero gala, Kirishima was able to get the door open. He threw you gently onto the bed, crawling on top of you. If you hadn’t already realized how massive this man’s form was now, you definitely made the connection when he was looming over you. His chest heaved heavily, the muscles in his arms and under his shirt contracting and rippling. His hair was long, falling into his face.

“Kirishima, what if they’re still here…”

Through heavy breaths, he kissed on your neck again, using the same butterfly kisses as before. “Don’t care.”

You hummed at the pleasant feeling of his soft kisses on your skin and the light tickling of his hair grazing your cheeks. “We should check though… they may be worried.”

Kirishima pulled his head back, looking behind him at the door. “Mina?” He yelled out, waiting for a response. “Nothing. It’s just us baby. Are you okay with that?”

You nodded, giving him permission to keep going. His hands traveled up your waist and sides, landing next to your breasts. His locked his lips to yours, his tongue wasting no time dipping into your mouth. Kirishima moved his hands to gently cup your chest over your bra, squeezing softly. A small moan escaped through your mouth, your breasts becoming sensitive under his touch. Your hands traced over his chest and arms, fingertips taking their time to feel each of his muscles. They found themselves in his hair again, pulling at it gently as you raked your hands through it. A shallow moan left Kirishima's lips as he pulled away from you, gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away. He looked at you with lidded eyes, a hunger glistening over his face. He looked at you with that same charming smile he always had, pulling his shirt over his chest. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. He had definitely grown since he was in high school all those years ago. He was built like a greek god, his pecks large and his muscles toned. Your fingertips gently felt up his chest and abdomen, shivers traveling up Kirishima’s spine.

“You’re beautiful, Eijiro.”

“Eijiro? We’re that close already?”

You giggled. “I mean, by the way you grabbed my chest, I would think so.”

Kirishima shook his head, lowering his body back down to yours. He kept himself propped up on his arms, leaving soft kisses along your face and jaw before hovering over your ear. “Well, I would love to do more if you let me.” His teeth nipped at the bottom of your ear.

“Please.”

Kirishima’s hands fumbled with the back of your bra, unhooking it and pulling it off you. His hands held your tender breasts. He placed gentle kisses along your chest, fingers toying softly with your nipples. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive buds, pulling them ever so gently. Soft moans sounded from you, only pushing Kirishima further with his teasing.

He looked at you with a wink and a smirk, before placing a gentle kiss over one of your breasts, sucking on it gently. His tongue worked circles around your nipple, your body squirming slightly under his touch. He tugged at it gently with his teeth, pulling away and giving the other breast the same attention. Your hands pulled at his hair, a grunt sounding out over your breast when you found a sensitive spot on his head.

He pulled up, admiring your form under him. Your face was pink with blush, your hair falling in a mess over his face, your lipstick smudged around your lips. Small bruises were adorning your neck and chest, breasts slick with his spit.

“You are absolutely perfect, sweetheart. The best thing I have ever seen.”

Eijiro moved his hands around the sweatpants you had borrowed, pulling them off your legs. His hands grazed the side of your leg, following up from your ankle to you hips. “So, so beautiful.”

He placed gentle kisses along your inner thighs, gently massaging them with his hands. His face was ever so close to your clothed folds, the teasing leaving you a mess. Kirishima took you by surprise, biting down on your thighs. Your moan was louder than any had been so far, the pain being laced with pleasure. You would definitely be able to see his bite marks and a bruise in the morning.

“You like that, huh? You like when I mark you up, make you all mine?”

You nodded, eyes closing as Kirishima bit down on your other thigh as you moaned out in pleasure. He placed gentle kisses over the new bitemark, lapping at it gently with his tongue.

His fingers hooked over the band of your underwear. “Is it okay if I keep going, sweetheart? Only if you want me to.”

You nodded your head, trying to rub your thighs together to get any sort of friction to aid your growing needs.

“Let me hear you, baby. Can I keep going?”

“God, yes Eijiro, please keep going.”

Kirishima smiled and pulled off your underwear, throwing it aside somewhere. His thumb gently felt along your folds, grazing across your clit. “God, every inch of you is absolute perfection. You're so pretty, baby.

You mewled at his touch, your folds already wet in anticipation. Kirishima dragged his tongue across your folds, lapping gently, teasing you. He was practically purring against you, losing his mind. He had never, ever, thought the girl he liked the most would be so completely unraveled under him. He sucked against your clit, moans and strings of babbled phrases leaving your mouth.

“Stop teasing me, Eijiro. Please, give me more.”

He pulled away, blowing softly against you, the cold air sending you squirming again. “So greedy, sweetheart. I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

He rolled your clit with the pad of his thumb, moving it in soft circles. Your waist bucked forward under his touch, a growing tension in your stomach. Kirishima gently placed two fingers in you, pumping them out gently. You moaned, the stretch of his large fingers was absolutely unraveling. He pumped them in and out slowly, wanting you to get adjusted the best you could. He watched as you clenched around his digits. His thrusts turned to a scissoring motion as he added a third finger. The new stretch was absolutely mind numbing. He pumped the three fingers in and out of you, barely grazing the spot that needed him most. You bucked forward to him, trying to lower yourself further onto your fingers. Kirishima watched with intention, thrusting his fingers in deeper and faster. He hit the spot you needed, the moan leaving your lips was sinful and the best thing he had ever heard.

“Right there, Eijiro. Please, right there.”

“Is that good, baby? Do you feel good?” Kirishima’s voice was low, a practical growl. You mewled, legs shaking.

“I, I think I’m close.”

"That's okay, you can come when you're ready. I want you to feel good."

Kirishima thrusted his fingers in and out of you, curling them against your g-spot. You felt a knot grow in your stomach, snapping as Kirishima rubbed against your clit. Your body shook as you came, moaning his name.

Kirishima pulled his fingers out gently, locking eyes with you as he licked your juices off his fingers, sucking them slowly and licking them clean. He licked a clean stripe against your folds, sucking any remaining juices from you. You mewled and moaned, sensitive to his touch.

"You taste so good, so perfect, Y/N." Kirishima's face was covered in your slick and sweat, your lipstick still smeared on his neck. His hair was a mess, tangled from where your hands had been tugging at it.

You sat up a little, "Can I take care of that?" You glanced down at the tent that was straining against his pants.

"Only if you want." Kirishima pulled you closer to him, sitting you on his lap at the end of the bed, moving you around with ease. His head rested against your ear, voice low. "I want you to feel good, sweetheart."

You pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, sliding off his lap and sitting on your knees on the ground. You felt the fabriced bulge, watching as Kirishima shivered, eyes never leaving you. You slowly undid his belt, pulling his pants off him, letting them rest at his feet. His erection sprang through his boxers, precum peaking through. You licked a strip over, the fabric growing damp under your touch. Kirishima's grip tightened on the sheets of the bed. You palmed the length, trying to rub it, but it was honestly much to large for one hand to manage. Your mind was putty imagining how much he was packing.

You hooked the band of his boxers around your fingers, pulling them off his legs. Your eyes widened, gawking at the sight of him. He was, large, to say the least. You honestly weren't sure if you could manage him.

"Like what you see, baby?" Kirishima smirked down at you, eyebrows raised.

You nodded, rubbing a circle around his tip with your thumb. Kirishima let out a shaky breath, his composer slowly breaking.

You tried to stroke him up and down, your hand unable to fully wrap around his shaft. You pumped up and down gently, picking up speed slowly. Kirishima threw his head back, mumbling your name under his breath.

You took him into your mouth slowly, tounge swirling around his tip.

"Fuck, Y/N" Kirishima's voice was breathy and full of need.

You bobbed your head up and down his length slowly, trying to take in as much as you could. When you hollowed out your cheeks, taking in enough of him that you hit the back of your throat, Kiri let out one of the most sinful moans you had heard. He was one of the last people you would expect to be so vocal, but if you said it wasn't the hottest thing you've heard, you would be lying.

Kirishima grabbed onto a bunch of your hair, his hand massive against your hair. He pulled you gently up and down his length, guiding you through what felt good.

"Just like that, baby. Good girl."

You grew faster, stroking the lengths you couldn't reach with your mouth. You felt him twitch in your mouth, his grip on on your head tighter.

"I'm so close, Y/N. Fuck, you're so good. Take me like the pretty girl you are."

You stroked him faster, licking against him as he moved in and out of your face. You watched his face contort as he came in your mouth. You liked your lips, swallowing his load the best you could. You coughed a little, not anticipating so much. Kirishima panted, relieved. His eyes widened, realizing what happened. He looked at you, leftovers come sitting on your face.

"Oh my God, i'm so sorry. Hold on-"

Kirishima pulled a towel out of the closet, cleaning your face off.

"You don't have to apologize. I just hope I did okay?"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your hairline. "You were perfect. Thank you."

He helped you stand, holding your waist. "If it isn't too much too soon, we can shower and you can maybe sleep over?"

"I would like that, Eijiro."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader smut

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