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devilfic · 9 months

Text

❝small favor❞

IV. another white guy from new york.

parts: previously / next plot: it's uncanny, but it can't be. right? because that would be stupid. and spider-man isn't stupid. right? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: violence, guns, knives, blood mention, alcohol consumption, peter parker isn't beating the average white guy allegations, well. when he smiles like that he might. words: 6.7k.

You almost expect them to turn you away at the door when you hand over your badge, some paranoid part of you thinking they’ll take one look at you and know you don’t belong here, but the man at the check-in hands it back to you with a pleasant, “Enjoy your evening.”

That was half an hour ago, and Parker was nowhere in sight.

He was going to “meet you there” as Jameson promised, though without a clue what to look for, you found yourself aimlessly floating through perfume clouds of high society. You didn’t want to hit the bar this close to eight, but if you didn’t find an anchor quick, you’d vibrate right through the floor. Worst of all, you didn’t even have the guy’s number. What would you do if he was a no-show?

Your job, you suppose, sullen and already dreading the evening to come.

There’s no sign of Wilson Fisk either. In your usual setting, you might’ve already flagged down a guest or two to ask what they thought about the rumors, but your usual settings were messy, bloody, and out in the real world. Here, you had a list of questions to ask that didn’t even scratch your curiosity.

What’s your name? Are you excited to be here this evening? How does the Stark Charity Ball reflect the New York City you know and love? Were you attacked? Can you confirm Wilson Fisk was on the scene?

You hadn’t even made it to the fourth question before you’d given up. How would you last a night like this?

Slithering through the crowd, you make your way to the snack table with hopes to eat your way through the night. At least you could count on rich people to shell out on good cheese.

There’s a band playing in the corner, a gentle stringed melody that you appreciate over the chatter of the guests. You make your way over and let yourself get carried away in the tune, only glancing every so often at your watch to gauge the time. It was nine minutes to eight, nine minutes until Pepper Potts took the stage to start the night, and you still had no idea where your partner was.

It’s almost natural the way your hand finds your phone, swiping over the familiar contact name and pressing out a quick message.

The party can’t start without you.

Towering windows make up most of the ballroom, fading sunlight overpowering the chandeliers above, and you take advantage in hopes it might reveal your webbed friend hanging off the roof.

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Aww, you really do like me :) No kidding. Are you already in place? Just about. Doing a quick perimeter check. You enjoying the party? I would be if my partner was here on time. Hey, cut Parker some slack! His train’s probably late and I don’t see any signs of Kingpin yet. I'm just glad you've stopped trying to fight me on this. If you can’t beat ‘em... And maybe look up every once in a while, you’re gonna run into somebody.

Just as your eyes scan the very last word, your senses go haywire. There’s cold liquid running down your hand and you've just run into something. When you finally tear your eyes away from your phone, you unfortunately realize that something is now wearing the remainder of your drink.

People nearby have formed a clearing around you, but it feels less out of courtesy and more to point and laugh at you. Regardless, you’ve got to fix this, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Your victim stands in a small puddle of sangria, the front of their tux dripping in it still, and you could see how red stains crawled up crisp white. You could only imagine how much every bit of their suit cost (and the Daily Bugle definitely didn’t have the budget to cover it).

They lift their copper head and you’re at first struck by the smile on their face, then the peppering of freckles across the bridge of their nose, and finally... their name.

He carefully removes his suit jacket to assess the damage to his shirt, “Nah, don’t worry. I was looking for a reason to leave early anyway.”

You’re breathless, certain you should be rushing to grab towels or begging him not to sue you into oblivion, but you don’t really get that far, “I’m... really sorry.”

He laughs, so genuine that you feel the tension in your shoulders deflate just at the sound. Just then, a waiter rushes over with a hand towel, insisting he lead him to the men’s room to clean up, but he’s waved off with little more than a “thank you” and “I’ll survive, I promise.”

He steps out of the puddle to allow someone to clean it up, bringing him that much closer to you. When he's done with the towel, he hands it off to you. His eyes trail to your chest and his eyes widen some, “The Daily Bugle. You a reporter?”

You realize he’s spotted your press badge and rush to introduce yourself, wiping absentmindedly at your sticky hand, “Uh... yes. Actually. Crime beat reporter.” You set your empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray and hold out your clean hand to shake.

His hand is warm, if not a little sticky like yours, though you have no grounds to complain, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know.”

He quirks an eyebrow, still smiling, “Then... was that drink a calculated assault?”

“No! God, no. I genuinely wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not very safe for a crime beat reporter, don’t you think?”

You’ve got to be on fire. You feel like it, struggling between a laugh and a whine, “I’m sorry you had to be the one to teach me that lesson.”

“No worries. Like I said, you did me a favor.” Harry glances around, “So… you're reporting on what, exactly? You betting on a robbery or something?”

The humor of that isn't lost on you, “Actually, I’m filling in tonight. Our usual reporter definitely wouldn’t have ruined your nice shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this stain rather charming.”

You can’t help it. You giggle and he smiles even wider, “May I ask why you want to escape so soon?”

“Not if you’re gonna write it down.”

“Off the record? In exchange for the stain.”

Harry Osborn has a boyish look to him even though he’s steadily approaching 26, some baby fat still clinging to his cheekbones when he smiles wide enough, “Well, this was my first stop since hopping off a nine hour flight from Oxford and I’m, as the English say, absolutely knackered. I was gonna leave in half an hour after photos but…” He laughs, casting a look over his shoulder at the stage, “I’ve made my donation. I won’t be missed.”

Perking up with an idea, you reach into your bag and pull out a recorder, “In that case, how about I get you down for a comment on your generous donation of…”

“Five million.”

You blink, swallowing hard, “Five million… to make up for it? I'll even throw in a few questions about your study at Oxford. I hear you're working on a revolutionary breakthrough with lab-grown bacteria that breaks down plastic.”

Harry's eyes light up. For a moment, the image of Harry Osborn is just Harry, “You sure Jameson would let you publish something nice about an Osborn?”

The Daily Bugle was no friend to Spider-Man, but neither was it a friend to Norman Osborn. You recall some of the more scalding headlines about Oscorp’s president that you’d published in the past. It was the one thing you and Jameson could agree on. “You know Jameson well?”

“Of course. I’ve got a buddy who works there too, actually. You might know him. His name’s-”

Harry’s voice is drowned out by the collective oohing and awing of the crowd when the lights dim, shrouding the grand ballroom in the fading glow of the sun. The stage, once empty, is now illuminated with the presence of Pepper Potts. Uproarious applause fills the room. Harry smiles politely at you. His buddy would be a conversation for later.

You want to focus on Pepper, you really do, but it’s like you’ve broken out of a spell the second Harry’s eyes leave yours, and you find yourself once again scanning the crowd for Parker. There was no good reason for him to be this late and you couldn’t even give him a piece of your mind about it.

You shoot off an indignant text to Peter.

Your guy better have been hit by a cyclist on the way here or he’s getting an earful when I see him. Pepper looks amazing :(

But no instant reply. In fact, three minutes pass and there’s nothing. You glance up to the windows for any sign of him watching and find none. Was... he here?

You glance at Harry. If Jillian were here, she’d punch you in the face for what you’re about to do, for the opportunity you're about to squander. Okay, maybe not a punch, but it’d be violent.

But then you’re thinking about Peter, about that night that changed everything, about his blood and bruises and the men with guns for hands. You think about how Peter worried for you. You think about Harry, who has just donated five million dollars to charity, and how there are over a hundred more of him packed in this ballroom right now. You think about Wilson Fisk, and how much havoc he could wreak if he put Spider-Man out for good.

And then you're elbowing yourself through the crowd, searching for the nearest emergency stairwell, hoping that if Peter’s still watching he might meet you halfway. Parker and those questions be damned. You'd find a way to make it up to Jameson somehow.

You’re about ten feet away from the nearest exit when someone takes a hold of your wrist, a few seconds away from the end of Pepper’s speech, and whoever is holding you back has a grip so iron it stings. You can’t clearly see the face of who’s grabbed you but it doesn’t feel familiar. Your heart jumps into your throat. Had Fisk's men infiltrated the room already? Had they gotten to Spidey? Did they know you? Were you next?

You’ve got no pocket knife on you, but you have a fist.

You curl your fingers inward and aim right for your captor’s head. Your fist makes contact with skin. The room erupts into thunderous applause. The lights go up.

You never actually land the punch, but your captor looks a little too wide-eyed to be one of Fisk’s men, too soft in the face. His own hand has completely stopped yours in its tracks, just a hair away from breaking his nose, and he’s staring at you like a deer in headlights. A big, brown doe-eyed deer. “Uh, hi,” your eyes flicker down to the camera hanging from his neck, almost blocking the badge beneath it that reads "P. B. Parker", and then you meet his eyes with the same bewilderment, “sorry I’m late.”

Parker is about average height with a build you can't quantify when his shirt is draping off him. It's a ridiculously huge plaid thing, the kind of thing someone would wear to hide themselves, but all he does is stand out in the sea of Armani and Givenchy. Old jeans, old shirt, high-tops, and a muddy-grey beanie to top it all off. It was a wonder they let him in the door at all.

What you can feel is the strength behind his hand as it holds your fist in place. Some people are looking—you realize, after the tremors of your punch reverberate back up your arm—and so you yank your hand back before any security can take notice.

Your partner waits a full second before holding out his own, offering a subtle, wobbly smile, "I would've been here sooner but... traffic, ya know?"

His voice is low, you notice this next. Practically a mumble. You kind of realize why your coworkers said you weren't missing much; outside of his awkward mannerisms and sweet, unassuming baby face, he looked like any other white guy from New York. He also seemed like he didn't want to be seen or heard, and you imagined that Jameson had no problem with that.

But his mumbling forces you to take notice of his lips so you can read them, and their thin, blushy quality is only marred by a little dryness. Broken by biting or... or something. "You're late." Is all you manage to say.

His lips part, turning downward, "Yeah, I know," he stutters, the pitch of his voice going up a hair, "I said- um, I caught the last half of Mrs. Potts’ speech." And then he turns his camera to you, flicking through images that are too small on the screen for you to assess the quality of. You actually have no doubt they're good, but you're upset he's late and you're certain there's nothing remarkable about this guy—nothing at all—and yet you can't stop staring.

"You know Spidey?" You blurt out next, and his eyes widen and zero in on you. You don't know why he's surprised. "He's mentioned me, hasn't he?"

Parker blinks, "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. All the time. You're very... good. At your job."

"Thank you. So are you."

And wouldn't you know it, he actually blushes. It's sweet and alarming how quickly red blooms across the apples of his cheeks, how his hands wobble around his camera a bit, how it disarms you for a moment. It'd be cute if you could just figure out what about him was throwing you off.

In fact, you're so enthralled in figuring out that something that you see his lips moving but just miss his question, barely hearing the tail-end of it. You watch his lips again as you ask him to repeat it, but the musicians have started up a jaunty tune with trumpets and high white keys, so you duck closer to him and ask him to repeat it once more.

"I asked-" And as you get closer, you have an excuse to look at him more deeply.

Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth to his chin (and all its little hairs that he hadn't caught shaving), down to his neck where you see, just peeking out beneath the lip of his beanie, a curl. You've abandoned his question now. You just feel, as strange as it is, that you need a closer look...

Your hand is moving before your mind can catch up with it, until it's caught in Parker's halfway to his throat. You're so close to him that you can see the way the skin of his chin rolls with the effort to lean away from you, or the honey speckles in his eyes that are all but eclipsed by his blown-wide pupils.

His fingers are latched around yours. He's not using the same strength he was before, doesn't need to, but you can sort of feel it beneath the callouses. Even then, it's so gentle. You don't know why you react with just as mush wonder. The world might as well be at half-speed. You almost wish him to speak again because you've got nothing to say for yourself here.

Parker looks on at you, still holding onto your hand. He smells... like the city.

"Do you-" He starts, chokes on his spit, and then swallows, "are you always this friendly when you're tipsy?"

You blanch. "What? I'm not-" You yank your hand back, cup it to your mouth and nose, and breathe in the sangria. Could he smell it on your breath? "I'm not tipsy. I barely even had a drink before I spilled it all over..."

You catch Parker's eye to find him looking interested. "Spilled it all over...?"

"Someone. Whatever. It was an accident."

"You spilled your drink on someone?"

"It was an accident."

"You know, I was feeling real bad about showing up late, but Jameson's gonna have a field day with this." You're mortified. He wasn't interested, he was amused. "Are we gonna get sued?"

"No!" Your voice draws the attention of a couple nearby, making you shrink even closer to Parker, "I told you it was an accident and I apologized. And you're still not off the hook for being late."

He folds his arms across his chest, smiles steadily this time, and agrees. The action is so unmistakable that it saps all the lightheartedness right out of you. Parker notices the change.

The only thing that breaks the moment is Harry Osborn finding you both.

Your head whips at the first "Peter!", thinking you'll see red and blue somewhere nearby, but Harry is gunning straight for Parker with the widest smile on his face. You break away just in time for him to envelop Parker in a big, friendly hug that would've knocked Parker off his feet if not for how solid he was. A few onlookers take in the scene, some amused, others not so much.

It takes you a moment to digest that Harry meant Parker, had called him Peter with such love and affection that there was no way he was mistaken, and Parker had returned the hug a beat later without correcting him.

There were probably a million Peters in New York alone. And yet...

They stay intertwined a minute longer, only breaking away so that Harry could hold... Peter's face in his hands. "Peter Parker! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry seems to remember you're there. He releases Peter and points to you, "So, you two know each other after all. Pete's the buddy at the Bugle I told you about. We've been best friends for years."

As if this Peter business wasn't enough for you to wrap your head around, you struggle to imagine these two being best friends. One of New York City's richest heirs and a contractor for the Daily Bugle. Your disbelief is evident as you ask, "How did you two meet...?"

"College. We went to ESU together. We were even roommates before I went off to Oxford." Harry smiles proudly, patting Peter on the back. It's then that you notice Peter is looking very, very uncomfortable. You wonder for a moment if this is all some elaborate joke Harry's playing, but it hadn't struck you as his type of humor.

This is, in fact, a man named Peter Parker. He works for the Daily Bugle, he's best friends with Harry Osborn, he works with Spider-Man, and they both share a name. Unremarkable Peter Parker. Nothing you were missing, they'd said.

Peter must see that you're focused hard on him, so he turns to Harry, "Yeah, Oxford. Why aren't you... there? Again?"

Harry laughs, unbothered, "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"No, it's just... last I remember, your dad wanted you there until your project got approved."

The very mention of Norman Osborn kills the mood entirely. Harry's smile falls quick, though he tries to hide it, and shuffles a bit uncomfortably. "That was the deal. But you know dad: the world revolves around his every whim." Harry's eyes cut to you so fast that you tense up, recovering quickly. "Off the record."

Jillian would not accept that. You, on the other hand, swallow it down and tuck it away for another day, "Anything for a friend of a friend."

That gets Harry smiling again, however terse. The conversation quickly changes course as Harry pulls at the stained white of his shirt to show Peter, "Speaking of: you like? Our new mutual friend gave it to me."

Peter glances at you, chuckling with a nervous edge, and grabs at the fabric to examine for himself, "Something tells me you deserved it."

Harry immediately resorts to banter that Peter melts into. It was no doubt now that they were friends, that Peter's awkwardness had only been on account of you being here.

You can only smile and nod, smile and nod, while you watch Peter's every move. You couldn't say anything even though you were bursting, but now your heart was beginning to pound in your ears, making it hard for you to do what you were trying to pretend you weren't doing.

Spider-Man was smart. Beneath the quips, he was extremely smart. He wouldn't tell you his real name and then show up here as a civilian, so brazen, knowing that you'd instantly figure out it was him. That'd be too easy. He trusted you, sure, but he wasn't stupid. He'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of unmasking when you'd mentioned it last night. If Peter was... Peter, he wouldn't have come at all. Because that would be stupid.

And he wouldn't have bothered to pretend, up until the last second, that he wasn't Peter, if he was just going to flay himself before you like this. Because you would've figured it out eventually.

So, surely, there were a million Peters in New York and you happened to know two of them. And they knew each other. And one of them was a superhero. Of course.

You slip your phone out, checking your recent messages with your heart in your throat. If Peter wasn't Peter, he'd have texted you back by now. Because Peter—fuck—Spidey wouldn't miss a chance to make that joke.

There's one new message. You barely get to see what it says before broken glass sprays from above.

There’s a cacophony of sound all at once. Glass breaking, screaming amongst the crowd, and the sound of gunfire letting off into the ceiling. One minute, the room had been in peaceful bliss, and the next, a tidal wave of terrified guests were rushing at you.

You’re lucky that Peter’s arm is like iron, strong enough to rip you back and away from the crowd that converges on the exits, because if you had stayed in your spot for a second longer you would have been trampled underfoot. Like your phone, which is in pieces the second it slips out of your hand.

Harry is there too, huddled against the two of you in the corner, but that doesn’t stop you three from all being pressed upon by the panicking crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason, no order in the chaos. Beautiful clutches embedded with Swarovski crystals lay abandoned at your feet. Everyone in the room can see, whatever it might be, that their life is worth more than a single thing in this room. Even worth more than the lives of the other guests they shove to get out first.

You try your best to see over the heads of the swarm to get a glimpse of what had set the entire party off, and immediately two things are visible. One: Pepper Potts is center stage, the bright white stage lights beating down on her. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at her brow, you’d think her bored. The second thing was that there was a man standing beside her who wasn’t standing there before, a microphone in one hand and a gun in the other.

Even from all the way at the back of the room, you could see the gun trembling in his grip as the barrel kissed Pepper’s temple.

The next thing is his voice. It’s loud, feedback screeching off the walls so high that you think they might shatter the windows. The crowd is loud and he’s louder. You can hear him saying something about how everyone shouldn’t leave just yet, that they’d want to see this front row and not on the 10 o’clock news. You do not see Kingpin. This man is utterly alone.

Harry is shouting something at you, you can feel his breath and the spit that flies out in the hurry of his words, but you can barely make out what he’s saying over the guests. Peter clutches you both even closer.

“We… we have to…” You start, glancing up at the windows for any sign of Spider-Man, but you see nothing. Your eyes drop to Peter’s to find him already staring right at you. You’ve no idea what’s going through his head, and the adrenaline rushing behind your eyes makes it hard to speculate. You only know what you need to say, “…we need to find Spider-Man.”

“We need to leave!” Harry argues. He wriggles out of Peter’s grip and starts pulling you both toward the nearest exit, but he only makes progress with pulling you forward.

You were about to argue back until you felt Peter’s hand at the base of your spine, pushing you into Harry with ease and right toward one of the exit doors. You turn, clutching onto Harry as to not lose him in the crowd, only to find Peter isn’t following you. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Both? Wh- Peter! We’re not leaving without you!” Your attempt to grab at him is futile. He shrugs away from your touch, keeps pushing you and Harry through the stampede as if he really intended on staying behind. “Peter!”

He finally looks you in the eyes that second time, the desperation with which you’d said his name snapping him out of some dissociative spell, “I’ll be right behind you! I’m gonna help get people out. Some got trampled, I-I’ve got to-”

Harry is next to admonish him, “Pete, come on. This isn’t the time to play fucking hero!”

But Peter’s not listening again—eyes faraway, slipping over the crowd as if searching for something—he’s heading back into the fray, calling to you some half-hearted promise that he’d follow soon, and then his head disappears into the whirlwind of bodies. You were able to follow him up until the moment his hat got pulled off, and then… nothing.

The current pushes and pulls at you and Harry, dragging you down the hallway. You feel your ankle twist awkwardly and are thankful that Harry is still clinging to you because had he not been, you would’ve been dragged down and trampled for sure. He holds you upright, pressing you to his side, assuring you over the noise that you’d go back in to get Peter in a minute.

You think that Harry Osborn is much kinder than his father seemed to be, and that you really do owe him a good soundbite in the Bugle after this.

You feel a draft coming from outside, promising you were close to being free from the confines of the hallway. You grab Harry’s hands and peel them off of you, pushing him forward into the crowd without a second thought, just as you see the light of the city come up ahead. His head whips to you. He calls your name as he’s swept away, but you press yourself hard against the wall and let the crowd lead him out to safety.

The crawl back to the ballroom is awful.

There are fewer people escaping, thankfully, and so it’s less like an undertow, but there are so many people and all of them are perfectly fine with throwing their bodies forward with caution thrown to the wind.

It takes you longer than a minute to get back to the door you’d come out of, even longer to squeeze through with elbows hitting you square in the chest and heels digging into your feet.

The room is less than a third of what it had been when the gunman had arrived. You frantically search for Peter in the remaining, scattered crowd; people are frozen in awe, in horror. Some people in the crowd were begging the gunman to reconsider, and others were praying. Your heart sank. A woman was about to die and there was virtually nothing you could do.

You look up to the windows one more time. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t call him, but you close your eyes and pray too. Whoever he was. Wherever he was.

And then you hear it. The familiar thwip! cuts through the air. You open your eyes and a second later, the clatter of the gunman’s pistol hitting the floor follows. You’re blessed with a whole five seconds of glee before the gunman surges forward and pulls a knife on Pepper, holding it to her throat in a panic.

“Easy there, buddy.” Your head snaps up to the rafters. From a single thread of spider silk, Spidey descends from the ceiling with a hand outstretched. He’s a ways away from the two of them, offering some sense of space. “You don’t wanna do this.”

The gunman has since abandoned his microphone, but his voice reverberates in the near empty room just fine, “Get out of here, Spider-Man! You’re next!”

“Why don’t you and I hash it out, then? Just you and me. Leave Mrs. Potts out of it.”

“No, no,” the man mutters; you can hear sirens growing closer to the building, “she’s part of it. You’re all part of it.”

Pepper speaks up for the first time, “Whatever you want, I can get it. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. The man jerks his knife closer to her skin and you can see, after a moment, a thin bead of red dribbles down her collarbone.

Spidey holds out both his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa-”

And it happens in a flash. One second, Pepper is being held at knifepoint, and the next, she’s being pushed off the stage.

Spider-Man immediately swoops in and catches her, swinging her to safety on the other side of the room, but you’re too mesmerized by the new body on stage pinning the attacker down by the throat. How you’d missed him, you’ve no clue, but he’s wrestling the man onto his stomach and restraining his arms behind his back just as the doors to the ballroom are thrown wide open.

Cops stream in, rushing the stage to take the gunman into custody. Some head straight for Spider-Man and Pepper, but it’s the guests that catch your attention. There are maybe fifty of them in the room altogether, but applause catches on like wildfire. All of them, and the musicians and the cops at the door, erupt into applause.

Because the man on stage, the man who’d thrown himself at the gunman and disarmed him, the man who had just saved Pepper Potts’ life… was Wilson Fisk.

You can’t find Harry anywhere. Most of the guests had stayed behind out of sheer curiosity, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

You stand out on the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd as the police escort the gunman into a cop car, murmurs flitting from ear to ear on who he’d been, what he’d wanted, and whether they should stay behind for interviews. Pepper was still inside getting questioned. But Wilson Fisk was out here.

You’d been in the same room as Fisk only once before, the night of his infamous press conference three years ago when you were still an intern trailing after the likes of Jillian. He’d struck you as a measured man, one who carried himself with impenetrable humility, and even in the face of his detractors kept a cool head.

Back then, he’d been accused of money laundering, something to do with all his companies not adding up. In and out of trouble, he was. Jameson had likened him to a cockroach: never quite dead, even when he really ought to be by now.

And now he stands before reporters, guests, onlookers, and the like, giving a statement about his “harrowing” rescue of Mrs. Potts. He hadn’t even been invited.

You know you should be right up there with the rest of them, fiending for a soundbite, but you’re gnawing your bottom lip from afar trying to catch him in a lie. Something about this was refusing to add up, and thankful as you were that Pepper was safe, the whole thing was off. Convenient, even.

You watch him smile and nod, none of the charm ever reaching his dead eyes, but everyone eats it up anyway.

Just as you’re about to force yourself to head over, knowing Jameson would have your head otherwise, you’re flying.

“Jesus!” You screech, scrambling to cling onto Spidey as the crowd below watches the two of you swing away. Your stomach drops as he carries you to a nearby rooftop, and you all but collapse when you meet solid ground. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.” You expect a quip in return, but when you look behind you, Spider-Man is sitting with his head on his knees, utterly silent. Your stomach drops again, “Spidey?”

That gets him to look at you, big white eyes narrowing, “We’re not on a first name basis anymore?”

You’re stunned, and then you scowl, “Peter Parker.” When he says nothing, you repeat it, “Peter Parker.”

“That’s his name.”

“His? Or yours?”

His eyes stay narrowed at you, only now his head is lifted upright, “I’m not the only Peter in New York.”

“I’m sorry if I find it a little suspicious there’s a Peter Parker who works at the Daily Bugle selling the only decent photos of you in the city, who just so happens to share your name and- and your lips.” That last part awkwardly tumbles out of you and his eyes are no longer narrowed.

“My lips?”

Peter’s lips flash in your mind. You don’t know how to say it without sounding more suspicious than him, “You’re… you both… your mouths are very similar.”

A beat passes. The silence isn’t enough to convince you you’re wrong, but it is enough to make you fidget.

But then Peter bursts into laughter, and, well, it’s not funny to you at all. “Quit it.” You demand, meek.

“I’m sorry, I just- I stick to walls and you think it’s crazy that we’re both named Peter?”

“You can’t convince me I’m off with this one.”

“There were like… four Peters in my graduating class!”

“He even kind of sounded like you! When I could hear him clearly.”

“He sounds nothing like me!”

“He sounds a lot like you.” You say, and wish that there had been a moment when you’d caught him speaking at an octave higher than his, frankly, forced baritone and an octave below shouting. Peter—this Peter—has a voice you know well enough. You’ve memorized his vocal fry when his voice gets a little too high, that nervous ramble-y pitch of his. It’s so distinct. If you had just… heard him use it just once, “You can’t make me feel crazy about this.”

“’m not trying to make you feel crazy, I swear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’d be skeptical too.” You wait patiently for a confirmation or a denial, but he gives you none. He takes a deep breath and stares out over the edge of the building where Fisk is being escorted to his car. You crawl over to sit beside him.

Part of you wants to ask him to prove it, to peel his mask off and show you, but you can’t make yourself do it. He’d only just given you his name. He trusted you with that. You’re wary about pushing it.

Because the pieces fit so well, but he’d never make that kind of mistake. Would he?

Would he think it was a mistake?

Peter sighs. “Hey, you alright?” You ask.

He doesn’t really look at you, though his voice answers at a lower volume than before, "This was too convenient.” You hum in agreement. “That guy… he said we were all ‘part of it’. Like it was planned.”

“You think Fisk planned it.”

“I think he’s a little too eager to be in the spotlight about it.” But getting that off his chest doesn’t seem to change the solemnness in his tone.

“Pepper was never in danger.” Your hand presses against the scratchy concrete, itching to touch him. To comfort him. “If this was Fisk’s plan, it was all for publicity. Pepper was never gonna get hurt.”

“She got hurt.” Peter whips his head to you.

You knew Iron Man was his mentor, had plucked him off the streets and thrust him into a world of gods and aliens before his untimely death. And maybe with Tony gone, he thought it was his job to keep her safe.

“Peter, you can’t… you can’t think like that. You can punch your way through a lot of things, but that? That back there? You did what you could.”

“I could do more.”

You get that urge to touch him again, only this time, you let yourself do it.

Your hand touches the side of his mask, cupping below his ear. He watches you the entire time but doesn’t move to stop you. Your thumb rests on his cheek and your pinky- it brushes the overlap between his mask and the rest of his suit, “It’s not just that you’re Peter, too.”

You feel the muscles in his neck twitch, “What?”

“It’s that… in all that chaos, you chose to stay behind. To help people. You made sure me and Harry got out, but you stayed behind. Everyone was so busy trying to save their own lives and you were thinking about them. I don’t know Peter Parker very well. Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But I know you. I know if anyone in that room was you, he’d be it.” Peter doesn’t say anything. You feel the tension in his jaw, feel the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you. You stare hard into those white eyes and imagine a someone staring back at you. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of people Spider-Man hangs out with.”

He huffs humorously, “Yeah, that checks out. We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart swells to hear it, “friends”. “Don’t make this about me when I’m trying to expose your secret identity.”

“I think Peter Parker would be flattered you think so highly of him. He was kind of worried he made the wrong impression… after you tried to punch him in the face.”

Your jaw drops, having nearly forgotten in the mess of the night. “Well, maybe Peter Parker shouldn’t go around grabbing people in the dark.”

“You were walking so fast. How else would Peter Parker get your attention?”

“Are you just saying Peter Parker over and over to convince me that you’re both completely different people?”

“I just think it’s funny that you don’t believe more than two Peters can live in the same city.”

“There are other factors!”

“Can’t believe you’re the type of reporter who flies by the seat of their assumptions. But you do work for Jameson, after all.” When Peter stands, you naturally follow.

You decide to switch tactics, bruising the alter ego, “You- you know what? You’re right. You couldn’t be Peter Parker. Peter Parker would be shaking and crying if I so much as raised my voice at him.”

“Wow. I’m gonna tell him you said that—wrap your arms around me?” And he snakes an arm around your waist, sending your heart into overdrive again, “he’s never gonna talk to you again. He’s probably gonna issue a copyright claim every time you put his pics on the Web-Blog, now. Legs too.”

“Wait, no. We are not swinging again. We are taking the stairs.”

“How else am I gonna get you off the roof? Legs, please.”

“We can take the stairs!”

“Door’s probably locked and Kingpin’s already on his way back to his super-secret evil lair. Legs or I’m webbing you up in a baby wrap.”

You grumble. It’s enough to make you grab onto his shoulders and jump, locking your ankles across his back with the fear of gravity instilled in you. You reckoned he’d be fast enough to catch you if you did fall. The very possibility makes you sick to your stomach, though. “Please don’t drop me.”

Peter dips his chin into the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder. "Don't worry," and it's not even that you hear his voice, you just feel it, "I've only dropped someone once."

And you're plummeting off the ledge before you get the chance to run away.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang @spider-biter @hufflepuff-n-fluff @daydreamdrive05 @mentalidrainedfangirl @gwennesy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #spider-man #tom holland #marvel #mjwrites #pp; small favor

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firapolemos05 · 6 months

Text

No devil hides beneath my bed

Part 1, Part 2

AO3 CW: nsfw (minors dni), whumper pov, past noncon, promise of future noncon, pet whump, captivity, dehumanization, sexual slavery, put on display, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, multiple whumpers, cages, restraints, ring gag, forced arousal, object insertion, overstimulation, auction, noncon touching

Tonight Scarlet hosts the Lanista Society for a special dinner event. The Champion is the coveted prize, and Ivan is honored to have been the cause of it.

Champion taglist: @emmettnet , @ostensiblyfunctional

Ivan is left marveling once again at his superior's immaculate taste.

High Martinet Matar sure knew how to throw a party.

Her guests had been greeted with the finest. A banquet of gourmet Crescentine dishes and exotic delicacies. Fresh fruits and cheeses, tender meats and fish, spiced breads and decadent sweets, aged wines from the mountain vineyards. The finest money and magic could offer.

Their venue is just as grand, perhaps more so due to its creativity. A conjured demiplane Scarlet produced specially for this affair. Ivan finds it rather ingenious.

The woman was no stranger to hosting guests at her manor; he himself had been there only last week. But she limits those meetings to no more than a few people at a time. Fewer bodies are easier to keep track of. With large parties like this, comes the ever present risk of unsavory infiltrators. The Lanista Society held members with many enemies. The uninvited in disguise or potential rivals waiting for the right moment to snoop around. Larger groups made it inconvenient to keep tabs on everyone.

The demiplane removed that risk.

No need to worry about the unwanted loose in your home if you're not bringing them to your home to begin with.

And as a bonus, the spell's design was limited only by the imagination. And a wizard of Scarlet's caliber knew fine decor.

All which was fully on display for tonight's event. It was a special occasion after all.

On one end of the chamber, seated on a raised platform, was an ornate bronze cage. Round and domed at the top like one of those old-fashioned bird cages that didn't allow room for the bird to spread its wings. However this cage was far larger, for its occupant was no bird.

Scarlet found the perfect display for the Society's beloved Champion. An advantageous maneuver given he was the subject of business this evening. If Ivan had thought he looked enticing their first meeting a week ago, Scarlet had expertly ensured that the people present now would be incapable of keeping their eyes off him.

In fact, there was already a crowd forming around the cage.

Knees spread and wrists secured above him, the Champion was giving everyone a show with his trembling body. Years of fighting had toned his muscles, and the shimmering red velvet bands only accentuated them. Scarlet must have gotten the outfit custom tailored, for it turned the tiefling's form into a canvas painted with red. Velvet strips hugging his thighs and shoulders. Flowers of beaded lace climbing from hip to collar to the small of his back. Dangling garnets mimicked the appearance of dripping blood.

Absolutely exquisite.

Scarlet had elected to keep his lower region covered, draping that same black cloth around his waist that he'd worn last time. Ivan could see the sense; what was already being shown was enough of a free sample.

The guests were permitted to touch, at least to the extent they were allowed without having to pay. And the Champion’s body was a buffet getting more attention than the actual food. Fingers traced the soft velvet, then slipped in between to caress exposed skin.

“He has the best reactions if you stroke his tail,” Ivan had informed them, and they were quick to take advantage.

The touches worked well to elicit forced pleasure, though perhaps not as much as some other things.

Scarlet couldn't allow her pet to spend the whole party glaring or growling at guests, so Ivan suggested a means to keep him occupied. Just a couple simple toys, one placed inside him and the other encircling the base of his tail where he was most sensitive. Both hidden from the guests eyes with a specially crafted belt that doubled to prevent the tiefling from making a mess of himself.

From how much he was trembling, struggling to close his legs, face flushed as he moaned around the ring gag strapped around his head, the toys were doing their job. And the guests were very much appreciating the sight. Ivan could see a number of people with their hands under their pants.

He couldn't blame them. They stood before a desperate succubus, beckoning them all with pleading huffs of breath and squirming hips. Ivan himself was imagining how pretty that face would look around his cock.

He would have to wait his turn.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The rhythmic taps of a wine glass drew the attention of the masses to the head of the table where Scarlet stands.

“Now now, everyone. I know my pet has been an exciting treat for you all, but I do hope you help yourselves to the dessert table.”

There were more than a few bouts of embarrassed laughter. Ivan included, as he too nearly forgot to go fill up his dish.

“I'm pleased to see he has garnered such interest,” she continues. “Just a quick reminder that the bidding period ends in thirty minutes. The current highest offer stands at 2,500 platinum.”

Well, not too bad a price tag for the Champion’s first official patron (Ivan's previous night with him didn't count). And if this went to a formal auction at the end of the party, if there was still an active bidding war, that amount would likely grow.

But already, he'd be returning home tomorrow with a decent payment. In a deal that spoke wonders of her generosity, Scarlet had agreed to save a percentage of the funds for him. None of this would've happened had he not raised the suggestion to her.

Lucrative business indeed. Ivan could recognize many big names at this party. Politicians, industry tycoons, nobility, all those with plentiful riches and power. He wonders if he could convince some of them to assist him in forming a similar operation in Mężnydzik. Or perhaps a connected branch.

Those were thoughts for the future. Right now, he was enjoying the view.

The first moment the cage is clear of onlookers, Ivan walks over and reaches through the bronze bars to lift up the Champion’s head to face him. With how long he'd had his mouth held open, his chin was streaked with drool, but thankfully Ivan had the foresight to wear gloves.

“Just like I said, little devil,” he purrs, gazing into eyes that struggle to focus through the mind clouding sensations. The tiefling whines in protest as Ivan lets his other hand trail up his thigh. “I knew you'd be quite popular.”

There's a moment of clarity to the Champion’s stare. A moment he's able to fight through the tears and the unwanted stimulation and-

Oh. Well isn't that a nasty look.

Reference for the outfit here.

#whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #nsfwhump #pet whump #tw noncon #tw dehumanization #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #Narcos #Ivan Mitreski #Scarlet Matar #my ocs #Xitanae tag #my work #my writing #original #whump stuff

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urfavstargirl1 · 2 years

Text

cherry on top - Eddie munson x fem!reader

can be read as a solo one shot but exists as part 2 to chemistry

Summary: good girl!Y/N and Eddie continue working on their chemistry assignment the next day after school. things are going well but Eddie starts to get too close. It's one thing to talk about college or music but Y/N nearly draws the line at sex and drugs?

AO3 Link | Spotify playlist link

A/N: this chapter sort of features a latina!reader, mainly just a few cultural references but for the most part is general. yall it got a little real writing this and i definitely tapped into my inner teenager this time around but hopefully it resonates with someone

cw: mentions of sex, mentions of drugs, cursing, angst, fluff, romance

“Let’s go,” Eddie swings the jingling keys in his hand. He sits up from the bench and ventures into the parking lot as Y/N follows. She clutches the straps of her backpack in her hands and looks around.

“Afraid someone will see us,” Eddie asks as he looks over his shoulder at her.

“What?”

“You look nervous,” he says as he slows his stride to walk next to her.

“I’m not,” Y/N lies. She’s not nervous to be seen with him, she’s nervous to be in a car with him. She’s especially nervous because up until today, she had never really spoken to Eddie or really had any one on one time with it.

But that’s not the only reason she’s nervous. She’s nervous because she’s never been alone in a car with a boy before, not like this at least. She’s been in cars with groups of people for volunteer events with the honor society, but that hardly even counts.

Y/N has to remind herself that he’s just giving her a ride home. It’s no more than a five minute drive away, and yet, the thought has Y/N’s nerves on red alert.

Y/N sees a bulky and scratched up van at the far corner of the parking lot and instantly identifies it as the old yet lovable van Eddie described. Eddie leads her to the passenger side and opens the door for her. Y/N looks at him quizzically before shaking her head and thanking him. He slaps the van door shut and walks off to the other side, hair bouncing in his stride. He climbs into the driver's seat and feels around the car floor between their seats.

“Listen Y/N, I only have one rule when it comes to the van okay?” He swirls his body around the seat and uses his hand to search the floor beneath the back seat. Y/N’s throat dries as she sees Eddie’s neck crane. As his long locks remain tucked behind his shoulder, the view of the bare skin and protruding vein of his neck mock her.

“Oh?”

“And that rule is that while I’m in the driver's seat, I get to pick the music.”

“Oh, sure,” Y/N shrugs meekly.

“Aha! Here it is,” he grins and his eyes move from the tape in his hand to Y/N’s eyes.

“Now this, this is real music,” he says with a glint in his eye as he inserts the tape into the deck. He puts the key in the ignition and starts the car. It sputters for a bit before the engine roars to life.

“It’s a good day if she’s sounding like this,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at Y/N before backing out of the parking space. Y/N nods and pulls the backpack in her lap closer to her chest.

“You can put that on the floor if you want.”

“Um, it’s ok, I’m fine like this,” Y/N softly replies and looks out the window.

“Okay… Well, while we’re partners for this assignment, you’re probably gonna have a lot to teach me about chemistry so I figure I’ll return the favor and teach you about heavy metal. What do you say, huh? Are you ready for a rock education, a rock-ification if you will?”

“Huh?” Eddie’s train of thought takes Y/N for a spin. She lands on the thought that it makes no sense how Eddie can be so edgy and so much of a dork all at the same time.

“I imagine you’re probably up in your bedroom studying to Beethoven and what not, so you’ve probably never heard of this band before but this is Black Sabbath.”

“I’ve heard of Black Sabbath, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he looks over at Y/N briefly before turning his eyes back on the road.

“You can make a right here.” Y/N points with her index finger at the light they’re approaching.

“You know Black Sabbath?”

“Sure, I mean, they’re not exactly a new band. They’re pretty famous.”

He looks quizzically at Y/N from the corner of his eye. “Still, I didn’t think you would.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Of course you would think that. You know, for someone who’s quick to be judged by others, I’m surprised how quick you are to judge me. And newsflash, I don’t have to listen to an artist’s music to know they exist, Eddie.”

Eddie bites his tongue for a moment. Even though they hardly know each other, he shouldn’t be surprised that Y/N’s heard things about him. He hopes she doesn’t believe half the things people have to say about him. And yet, she speaks as though she doesn’t. Like she would rather get to know you first and then make a fair judgment.

“Fair enough.” Eddie clicks his tongue. “So what kind of stuff do you listen to?”

“You can make a left on Deer Street,” Y/N instructs. “Um, I like a lot of different artists. I like Whitney Houston, Tears for Fears, Prince, The Cure, Michael Jackson, Queen, stuff like that.”

“Ehh, I guess I can work with that,” Eddie says reluctantly while tilting his hand back and forth.

“Is Black Sabbath all you listen to?” Y/N asks innocently.

“No. I also like Ozzy Osbourne who was actually a member of Black Sabbath at one point but I’d say his solo career counts. I also like Metallica too. Honestly anything heavy metal or rock is good in my book.”

Y/N nods and as one song transitions to the next, Y/N instantly recognizes the chord progression and straightens her posture. “Wait, I do know this song.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what it’s called but I’ve definitely heard it before.” Eddie rolls to a stoplight and he looks over at Y/N.

“Where have you heard Iron Man by Black Sabbath?” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Y/N’s attention is drawn to the red plushness of his mouth and forces herself to move her gaze back to his eyes.

“Um,” Y/N squirms under his intense gaze. “I’m pretty sure from my dad’s garage.”

Eddie jerks his head when the car behind him honks. He turns his attention back to the road and drives.

Eddie is silent for another moment and the track moves on to the next.

“Your dad listens to metal music and you don’t? How can that be? I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t gotten my love of music from my old man.”

“I don’t know! It’s fine, I guess. I just like other stuff more. Take a right here.” Y/N watches his dexterous ring clad fingers swirl around the steering wheel and gulps.

“Keep hanging round me and I promise you’ll be a full blown metal head, like throw your panties on stage at a Metallica concert metalhead.”

“Eddie,” Y/N squeals and widens her eyes. She brings her palms to cover her face and Eddie catches a patch of red forming along her neck.

“What? Goody two-shoes Y/N isn’t throwing her panties on stage for anyone?”

“Ugh! One, you’re crude, and two, there’s no way I’m ever doing that. And if somehow I did get possessed by some supernatural entity that takes over my judgment and makes me throw my… undergarments on stage for someone it definitely wouldn’t be for Metallica. Luis Miguel maybe, but–”

“Luis Miguel? Who the hell is that?”

“He’s only the hottest man alive,” Y/N gushes and Eddie furrows his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Y/N giggles, “He’s a famous Mexican pop star. Keep going straight after the stop sign.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard of him before?”

“Probably because they only play his music on the Spanish radio stations. But knowing you, even if they did play him on the English stations I doubt you’d find him that way.”

“Hm. Do you have any of his tapes?”

“Sure, but they’re at home.”

“Ok well bring one tomorrow and I’ll let you listen to him.”

Y/N quirks an eyebrow at him. “You’ll let me listen to him? Wow, I feel so special.”

“You should! I don’t even let Dustin play his Oingo Boingo crap in here.”

“Dustin… that freshman you hang out with?”

“Yes, the freshman I hang out with. Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m telling you, those kids give me hope for the next generation of Hawkins.”

“Whatever,” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious though. Bring your tape and I’ll give him a listen.”

“I don’t think you’ll like him. His stuff is pretty pop-y and it’s all in Spanish.”

“Maybe that’ll make it more tolerable than the stuff that’s in English.”

Y/N gives him a skeptical look.

“Just humor me Y/N, I’m curious.”

“If you say so,” Y/N huffs as she gathers her backpack.

“My house is on the left, the one with the white car.” Eddie continues to drive past her house then pulls into her neighbors driveway to make a U-turn.

“So let’s go over the plan for tomorrow.” Y/N says as he parks the van. Eddie groans.

“C’mon, we’ll need a plan of attack.”

“Okay, whaddya got?” Eddie says as he moves the gear shift to park.

“I was thinking we could meet right after school. I’m not sure where we should go to study though. The library is obviously off limits and in all honesty, so is my house.”

“No offense, but,” Eddie scans his eyes over the two story colonial, “Your house seems pretty fine to me.”

“Um, It’s not that. It’s just…It’s my parents, actually. I’m not allowed to have any boys over.” Y/N chews her lip nervously. Eddie tries to brush aside the thought that the nervous look on her face makes her look so undeniably hot.

“Not even for some innocent studying? It’s not like I’m asking to be locked alone with you in your bedroom.” Y/N eyes widen and cheeks redden at his words.

“What?” Eddie raises his eyebrows innocently.

Y/N viciously shakes her head. “You don’t understand Eddie. My parents won’t allow it, no exceptions. You could be my bestfriends boyfriend coming to pick her up at a birthday party where its only other girls and my parents would still blow up about it.”

“Wait, that was too specific. Did that actually happen?” Eddie stifles a laugh.

“Yes! Well, not to me, but to my older sister, yeah. My parents gave it to her something awful that night, while the party was still going on! Everybody went home right after that, but still. No boy can be worth that wrath.”

Eddie is shocked to hear this. He doesn’t have any sisters or female friends, but he’s seen tv shows and movies with daughters and their over protective dads. He didn’t think that sort of thing actually happened. What’s even more shocking is just how much Y/N is willing to live within the confines of that outrageous rule. It’s obvious she wouldn’t even think of going behind their back, for anything. She’s content with compliance. It’s the opposite of everything he’s ever lived by.

“Your parents are really strict. My uncle could care less about what I do, as long as I make it home alive and not in jail.”

Y/N almost wants to say he’s lucky, but she bites her tongue. Eddie’s lucky that his family isn’t strict, but based on the things she's heard about him, she doubts he’s lucky in a lot of other aspects. The thought tugs on her heart strings a bit.

“Yeah, um… It must be nice not having to worry so much.” Eddie shrugs.

“Well anyway, the point still stands that I don’t know where else in town we can go to get some proper studying done.”

“We could go to Frankie’s,” Eddie’s eyebrows raise.

“Frankie’s?”

“Yeah! You know, the diner on Main Street.”

“Oh yeah… we could do that. I’ll have to be home by 7:00 though, so that should give us a few hours to get things done.”

“Your curfew is 7:00? Why so early?”

“It’s a school night? What do you mean?”

“I mean it just seems kind of early, even for a school night.”

“Well, that’s when my family has dinner,” Y/N shrugs nonchalantly.

He jerks his head back slightly. Is her family the Brady Bunch? “You have dinner with your family?”

“Yeah? You say that like it’s a weird thing.” She looks at him skeptically.

“Well, it is weird, to me at least. Back home, it’s just me and my uncle. He works nights at the plant so uh, I don't really have anyone waiting up on me.”

“Oh,” is all Y/N says but she really wishes she could say more. She wishes she could tell him that the thought of him eating alone every night makes her feel sad. She almost feels compelled to invite him over for dinner but could never bring herself to actually do it. Not only do they not know each other well enough to be doing that sort of thing, but bringing a boy home is just out of the question. Maybe in another life.

Her eyes lower and she peers back up at Eddie, leaning over her seat. Eddie leans over his own seat to look into Y/N’s eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie softly whispers, the silence in his van deafening.

Y/N climbs out of the van and speed walks to her front door. She looks over her shoulder and sees Eddie still parked, waiting for her to enter the home. She painfully smiles and unlocks the door. She opens it and walks through. When she looks through the living room window, his van is already long gone. She sighs in exasperation.

Y/N walks into the kitchen and sees her older sister and mother shuffling around the small space.

“Y/N, you’re home,” her mother greets. She walks over and gives Y/N a hug and kiss.

“Hey mom,” Y/N says with a smile. She greets her sister and walks over to the pantry.

“No snacks, Y/N. Dinner’s almost ready and your father should be here any minute now,” her mom declares as she glances at the watch on her wrist.

“Okay,” Y/N responds glumly.

“How did your studying go?” Y/N’s mom asks. During lunch, Y/N made a call to her mom on the school’s pay phone letting her know she’d be out late.

“It was good.”

“And this is for which class?”

“Chemistry,” Y/N answers and her mom nods.

“The assignment is due on Friday so we’ll probably be meeting for the rest of the week to get it done.”

“That’s fine, just remember to be home by seven okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N nods and her sister smirks and raises her eyebrows. Y/N hopes she doesn’t suspect anything but the conversation they have after dinner confirms otherwise.

“Who is it?”

“Who’s who?”

“The boy you’re sneaking off to see?”

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb. I saw him drop you off. You’re lucky mom didn’t see.”

Y/N shakes her head. “It’s not like that. He’s just my partner for this assignment.”

“Whatever you say Y/N,” her sister walks away nonchalantly.

Y/N isn’t doing anything bad, but she can’t help the guilty feeling that pangs in her chest. She'll need to be careful hanging around Eddie. She’s used to hiding things from her parents. Like how she loves to draw or that she likes the way she looks in red lipstick. There’s certain things in this world that they’ll never need to know about her, and Eddie Munson is now one of them.

___

“He should’ve been here fifteen minutes ago,” Y/N huffs worriedly as she looks up from her watch to the view of Eddie strutting his way over along with the other members of the Hellfire club. He smiles and says something to them before walking in Y/N’s direction. The other boys cast their gaze from Eddie to Y/N and it makes her want to crawl out of skin.

“Hey Y/N,” he smirks and flickers his eyes up and down her body. “How’s my smarty pants doing today?”

Y/N didn’t expect it, but she had been looking forward to seeing Eddie today, that is until he disrespected her perfectly crafted schedule.

“You’re late,” Y/N scowls at him. “Let’s go.”

Y/N storms off and paces quickly to Eddie’s van, which to her luck is parked in the same spot it was the day before.

Eddie jogs to catch up with her. “Wait, Y/N. Relax. I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Eddie, the later you show up, the less time we have to work on this. You know I have an early curfew.”

“Like I said, I’m here now.”

“I don’t care. We agreed on 4:00 not 4:15. It’s called making a commitment Eddie.”

“C’mon it was just a few minutes. We’ll still have plenty of time.”

Y/N swiftly turns around and plants her feet on the ground. Eddie almost bumps into her but stops just a few inches away.

“You wasted my time Eddie and I didn’t like that very much. It was very inconsiderate of you to make me wait like that when we both agreed to meet at 4:00. Don’t ever make me wait again.”

Y/N spins on her heel and walks to the passenger side and climbs in the van, leaving Eddie stunned. The sound of her slamming the door shut brings Eddie back to earth and he rushes over to the driver’s side. Y/N huffs as she roughly puts on her seatbelt and slumps in the seat.

It all happened so fast, but Eddie couldn’t ignore the strange feeling he got when Y/N commanded him like that. Why was her strong tone and the assertive look on her face so attractive?

Eddie climbs in the van and puts on his seatbelt. He puts the key in the ignition and starts the car. Y/N runs a hand through her hair and leans her head against the headrest.

“Do you have that Luis Miguel tape?”

She turns to face him without moving her head from the headrest and looks at him with confusion.

“Do you have the tape I told you to bring? You know, that Mexican pop singer you like?”

Y/N blinks in confusion. “You were serious about that?”

“I may not take a lot of things seriously, but music is one of the few things I do.” Eddie explains as he looks around for a tape on the van floor.

“Oh, I didn’t bring it. I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

“Of course I meant it.”

Y/N shakes her head and frowns. She genuinely didn’t think Eddie cared, but knowing that he does, makes her heart feel heavy.

“That’s alright, we’ll just continue our rock-ification,” Eddie declares, hoping it would make Y/N laugh. Y/N only exhales as she leans her arm on the armrest and rests her chin in her palm and stares out the window. Eddie retrieves a random tape among the collection of scattered tapes on his van floor and puts it into the deck. When the music starts playing, it blares at the normal volume he keeps it at, but he lowers the volume out of consideration for Y/N.

Eddie pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards the diner. Y/N’s position hasn’t changed and he starts to get worried.

“Hey, Y/N,” he briefly looks over at her before returning his focus to the road, “I'm sorry for being late. I just caught up with some of the Hellfire guys, you know?”

“It’s whatever,” Y/N glumly responds, barely moving her mouth.

A moment passes and a silence falls on them. It makes Eddie uncomfortable and concerned for Y/N.

“You okay? You seem a little more than just pissed off at me for being late.”

“Just got a lot on my mind I guess.” Y/N mumbles.

Eddie reaches a stop light and presses on the break. He looks at her with concern and confusion. He doesn't talk to girls very often, especially not when they're in a state like this. He’s in uncharted territory but attempts to tread lightly.

“Do you, um… want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Y/N replies and he sighs in relief. Eddie figures they can make it to the diner in silence and once they’re eating something there, she’ll feel better.

His theory proves true when they make it to Frankie’s and sit in a booth in the farthest corner of the place. When the waitress gives them their menus, Y/N’s eyes light up as she scans it. When the waitress comes by to take their orders, Eddie orders a vanilla milkshake first and Y/N looks at him puzzled before ordering a chocolate milkshake.

“So you’re a vanilla guy?” She asks once the waitress leaves.

“Huh?”

“You’re a vanilla guy. You ordered a vanilla milkshake.” Y/N declares as she starts pulling her notebooks and pencils from her backpack.

“Trust me sweetheart, I may have ordered a vanilla milkshake but I’m far from vanilla.” Eddie’s sexual innuendo goes over her head and she continues to press the topic.

“I don’t know, I just feel like the last thing I would’ve expected you to want is a vanilla milkshake. You seem more like a strawberry guy at least.”

“Well my friend, all I can say is to expect the unexpected,” Eddie shrugs and Y/N quirks her eyebrow before turning her concentration to their assignment. They’re both able to work in silence and pure focus for a good ten minutes until the waitress brings out their drinks.

Y/N smiles at the glass before her and it feels like a victory for Eddie. In the same moment, Eddie and Y/N each take a sip of their drinks, but Y/N looks up at Eddie first. She sees his eyelids closed and admires the way his eyelashes frame each lid. When he feels her looking at him, he peers up at her through the long lashes and it makes Y/N almost choke on her drink.

She covers it up by clearing her throat and asks, “How’s your drink Mr. Vanilla.”

“You tell me,” he says, pushing the glass across the table. She looks from the drink to Eddie and back to the drink. She takes the straw out of her own drink and holds it in midair when Eddie shouts, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m trying your drink?”

“Don’t use your straw, you weirdo! It’ll mix the flavors. Just drink from mine.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Somehow it feels extremely intimate to be putting her mouth in a place where Eddie’s once was.

“What? You afraid you’re gonna get my cooties?”

“Ugh,” Y/N cringes and bites the bullet. She takes a sip and shrugs.

“It’s alright. Not as good as mine though.”

Eddie grabs her drink before she can even realize and takes a sip. He groans and slowly unravels his puckered lips from the straw. The sight and sound are enough to make Y/N’s mouth water.

“That’s so good. I might start converting to chocolate,” Eddie nods and moves Y/N’s glass closer to her.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Y/N forcefully replies, thanking the universe he can’t hear her thoughts or loudly beating heart.

Eddie takes the cherry on top of his milkshake and tilts his head back. He dangles the cherry above his mouth. His tongue slightly sticks out and he slowly wraps his lips around the juicy red fruit, pulling it from its stem.

Y/N swears he’s doing this on purpose. He’s putting on a show. Is he doing it to entertain her or entice her? Quite possibly. But more than anything, she knows he does it to see if it has an effect on her. To see if it makes her squirm in the best way possible. She won’t give him the satisfaction.

She looks down at the cherry atop her own milkshake and offers it to him.

“Do you want mine?” Y/N asks aloofly as she scoops out the cherry with her spoon and holds it out to him.

“You askin’ me if I want your cherry?” He teases with a quirked eyebrow and extremely direct eye contact.

“Don’t be weird about it Munson,” she responds in annoyance as she avoids his gaze and transfers the cherry to his glass.

The two return to working on their assignment. There’s a few periods of actual concentration and progress punctuated by the occasional question or thought from Eddie.

“Do you think a hurricane would ever come to Hawkins?” Eddie asks.

Without looking up from her paper, Y/N responds with a simple, “No.”

“Why not? You never know what could happen.”

“Actually we do know. Hurricanes can only happen in coastal areas. The only thing Hawkins is on the coast of is suburban boredom and everlasting cornfields.”

Y/N’s annoyed remark brings a bubble of laughter to Eddie’s body. The sound is sweet yet foreign to Y/N’s ears. Her cheeks heat at the realization that her snarky comment made him laugh.

“You know you’re secretly funny,” he comments with subtle adoration as he brings his jean jacket clad arms to rest against the table.

“Yeah? And you’re, not so secretly, annoying. Now let’s get back to work.”

Eddie is prepared to say something sarcastic back but Y/N’s attention is laser focused on the paper before her. He takes in the sight of her: A studious girl in her natural environment. Tendrils of hair sneak out of her pulled back bun. She has papers, pencils, and folders scattered about. His attention is caught on a folder with a title written in marker that says, “College Applications”. He wonders what colleges she’s applying to or what she’d want to study. He almost asks her but looks at her and sees how focused she is. It’s surprisingly adorable to him.

He decides to turn his own attention to the assignment at hand. He has a good feeling he’ll have plenty of time to learn these things about her later. A good 20-30 minutes passes without interruption when Eddie’s thoughts begin to trail off again.

“Why do I have to learn about atoms and molecules?”

“Huh?” Y/N zones out of her lazer focus.

“It just seems so unimportant in the grand scheme of things. There’s so many problems in the world, chemicals seem like the least of my worries”

“Well, that doesn’t make them not important Eddie. There’s a lot of applications of chemistry to real life. Just think of it like this, people have to understand atoms and molecules in order to make the guitars your favorite musicians play or all the pyrotechnics and stage effects at their concerts.”

“Yeah, but they can worry about that. Why should I?” Eddie replies, dazed at the thought.

“Hm, maybe that wasn’t a good example. Try thinking of it like this. There’s a lot of chemistry involved in your inventory.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow.

“I may not be a customer, but word gets around Munson.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie nods his head to the side.

“Anyways, even though you’re not the one making it, the slightest change in a compound's chemical makeup can alter the substance itself and thereby the effect it has on the person using it.”

“Huh?”

“Hm, how can I put this? Imagine you’re learning how to play a song on the guitar. You see the sheet music, read the notes and play it on the guitar. Well what if you changed one note or a few notes. You change an a-chord to a c-chord or an eighth note to a quarter note. Something random and seemingly miniscule. Is it still the same song?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Wait, how do you know so much about music?”

“I know a lot about a lot of things, Munson. But back to my question-”

“Answer mine first.” Eddie holds Y/N’s gaze with a severity she’s never seen before. He really is passionate about music. Y/N almost deflects his questions, but can tell he wants to know more than anything.

“I, uh, used to play the piano.”

“Do you still play?”

“No. I only learned for a few years in middle school”

Eddie contemplates her answer. He’s gonna put this out there and it’s a long shot she’ll even accept, but he won’t know until he tries. “If you ever want to learn how to play the guitar, I can teach you.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, “Back to what I was saying, if you changed a single or couple of notes, would it be the same song?”

It’s not a denial but it’s not a complete acceptance either. It’s a start though. And before Eddie can even start daydreaming about what it would be like to wrap his arms around Y/N as he helps her pluck the strings on one of his guitars, she snaps him out of it.

“Eddie.”

“Huh?”

“Did you even hear me?”

“Yeas,” he lies.

“Ok, what did I say?”

“Something about chemistry?” He smiles tryingly.

“Eddie!”

“I’m kidding Y/N, relax. And to answer your question, no they’re not the same songs. You can hear the difference in that one note change.”

Y/N looks up and beams, instantly forgetting her frustration. “Exactly!”

“And sometimes in chemistry, that one minor note change, so to speak, can make a really big difference. Just look at coal and a diamond. Chemically they’re nearly identical, but physically, they couldn’t be more different,” Y/N explains, pointing to an open page in her textbook showing the chemical formulas and pictures for coal and diamonds.

“Holy shit that’s trippy,” Eddie’s eyebrows raise.

“See, it’s not all boring.”

“Not if you have the right teacher,” Eddie winks up at her and Y/N forces a smile while shaking her head.

‘I’m just the messenger,” she downplays his compliment as she looks down and flips through the pages of her textbook, more as a distraction than to actually turn to a specific page.

“You really like this stuff, huh?”

“What?”

“Your eyes light up when you talk about it. Probably the same way mine light up when I talk about music.”

“Um, I’m sure that’s not true,” Y/N shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Y/N likes chemistry but it’s not her true passion; that would be civil engineering. At least that’s what the Big Book of College Majors tells her. She likes math and drawing so that narrows her prospects to architecture and civil engineering. She feels like it’s too dorky or weird to talk about it with others, so she just plays it off or lies that she’ll be studying economics. No one ever asks questions if you’re an economics major.

“You don’t have to be ashamed, Y/N. I think it’s cool.”

“Well, you’d be one in a million,” Y/N teases.

“I’m okay with those odds,” Eddie proudly says. Y/N avoids his magnetizing eyes and shuffles through the papers on the table.

“Is that what you want to study? In college?” Y/N stops in her tracks and slowly looks up at him. She moves her tongue to the side of her mouth and bites it. She shakes her head and looks away toward the drafts of college essays taunting her from their place in the folder next to her left arm. They’re due in a couple of months and everyday they’re a reminder that gnaws at her brain.

“What do you want to study”

“Um, it’s okay we don’t have to talk about it.” Y/N shyly shakes her head.

“Why not?”

“It’s… nerdy.”

“Have you met me? I’m a nineteen year old playing Dungeons and Dragons all day with fourteen year olds, I invented nerdy,” Eddie replies and it makes Y/N full on belly laugh. It shouldn’t have, but the way he said it was undeniably funny.

“You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that I want to know what you’re passionate about,” Eddie says as he looks at her wide-eyed. It’s at this moment that Y/N realizes he’s not just asking her something just because it’s the cordial thing to do or because it’s something about her anyone should know. He’s asking because he genuinely wants to know what it is she likes, what it is that speaks to her heart.

“I… I’m going to be majoring in civil engineering,” Y/N wrinkles her nose as the admission.

“Why do you say it like that? You could be the next Iron Man, or Iron Woman.”

“What?” Y/N shakes her head in confusion.

“You know, Iron Man? Classic American superhero who’s also an engineer? You don’t know about him?”

“Um, not really,” Y/N grumbles.

“God Y/N there’s so many things I need to teach you,” Eddie throws his hands up and Y/N forces herself not to smile at his flustered movements. She also forces herself not to let her thoughts wander to other things Eddie could teach her.

“We can do that later. Let’s just focus on getting this assignment done first, okay?”

“Sure,” Eddie nods.

Around 6:00, the waitress stops by and places a single check in front of Eddie.

Y/N scrambles to search for the wallet in her backpack. By the time she takes it out, Eddie has already put enough cash to cover the bill inside the slot.

“How much was my shake?” Y/N asks as she flips through the dollar bills in her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie says nonchalantly and Y/N freezes and looks up at him. She cocks her head to the side.

“No seriously. Let me see,” she reaches for the check and Eddie grabs it and raises his arm.

“Eddie.”

“Y/N.”

“Eddie, just let me pay for my drink.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s my treat.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” Eddie smugly grins at Y/N who’s eyes narrow. “Consider it your lucky day.”

“Eddie, seriously. It’s not a big deal.”

“Exactly, it’s not a big deal. The cost of your milkshake isn’t exactly breaking the bank sweetheart.”

“Eddie.”

“Y/N, let me pay for your goddamn chocolate shake.”

Y/N breathes out through her nose. “Fine. Next time we come here, drinks are on me.”

“Sure they are,” Eddie says as he places the check back on the table.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know you are,” Eddie taunts.

The waitress comes by to pick up the money and while they wait for her to bring Eddie’s change, Y/N reviews their progress.

“I’d say today was pretty productive, wouldn’t you?”

“Beats being in the library.”

Y/N looks at her watch and marvels at the time.“We even have some time to spare.”

“Cool.”

“So, about tomorrow, I’m going to need a raincheck for Thursday. On Wednesday’s I have a meeting with the honor society and a tutoring session after school.”

“You’re in tutoring?” Eddie asks incredulously.

Y/N laughs and says, “No, silly. I’m the tutor. I help Ms. Callaghan with the juniors in algebra two.”

“God, I hate algebra two.”

“What? I loved algebra two, it was so much fun. ”

“Fun? You think math is fun? And people have the nerve to call me a freak?”

“Calm down, Munson. Math is fun. It’s like solving a puzzle.”

“Even worse,” he shudders. “Anyway, tomorrow’s no good for me either. Got a massive campaign with the Hellfire club.”

“Okay,” Y/N nods and pens something in her planner.

Eddie leans over to see what she’s writing down. “You’re real Type A, huh?”

“What?” Y/N looks up from her notes and leans back from his close proximity.

He gestures towards the planner and pen in her hand. “You’re a straight-A student who’s always gotta be on time, you’re super organized, and you even have a math fetish.”

“Oh my god Eddie! Are you insane? All I said was that math is fun. I highly doubt that makes it a,” she looks around before she whispers her next word, “fetish.”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Eddie says in a sing-song way. “Lot’s of people’s fetishes are for things they think are fun.”

“I-I don’t even know what to say to that,” Y/N stutters as she shakes her head. Eddie smiles at the splotches of red coating her cheeks and the tips of her ears. He can see the gears turning in her head at the thought of his words.

The waitress brings back the change and Eddie pockets it. Y/N puts the rest of her belongings in her bag and looks at Eddie who shoves the loose leaf pieces of paper into his.

“You ready?” He asks calmly, casually, as if going to get milkshakes and study at the local dinner is something they do often.

Y/N nods and they slide out of the booth. When they reach the exit, Y/N keeps walking to the van but Eddie calls out her name to stop her.

“We still have some time before you have to go home right?”

Y/N looks at her watch and it's 6:23. “Yeah.”

“What do you say to a celebratory smoke?” Eddie asks, but it’s a rhetorical question because he’s already pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his jean jacket pocket and a lighter has miraculously appeared in his other hand. He lights up and takes a puff before Y/N can say anything. She freezes a good couple of feet away from his body that’s leaned effortlessly against the wall of the red-brick building.

He takes another drag and then offers it to her. She looks from the cigarette to him, a confused look on her face.

“Want some?”

“Eddie, are you crazy? If I go home smelling like cigarette smoke, my parents are going to kill me.”

“Relax, Y/N you’re not going to go home smelling like cigarette smoke.”

He takes another drag and exhales the smoke, making Y/N cough.

“Yes I will. Look I’m just gonna wait in the van while you finish up and pray to God my parents don’t say anything when I get home.”

Y/N holds out her hand for Eddie to give her the keys, but he decides to forfeit altogether. He shakes her hand away and puts the cigarette out. When he stomps on the cigarette, the chain hanging from the belt loops of his pants jingles slightly.

“Fine, we won’t do that, but can we at least drive around a bit?” Eddie asks as he makes his way over to the van. The two get inside the car and Eddie starts it.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to go home yet.” Eddie says casually, but Y/N picks up on what he doesn’t say. That he’d rather be out anywhere else than at his house. The thought weighs on Y/N but she tries to let it go.

“Fine, but remember I have to be home by-”

“7:00, I know,” Eddie replies as he puts in a tape.

“So tell me smarty-pants, you don’t smoke weed or cigarettes,” Eddie places a hand on Y/N’s headrest and looks over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot. The combination of that and his newfound nickname for her makes a pool of heat settle in Y/N’s stomach. “Tell me you at least drink.”

“Not that it matters, but um, yes I have.”

“Really?” He looks over at her and smiles. “Care to explain?”

Now, Y/N doesn’t owe Eddie an explanation for anything, but something inside her wants to. She likes that he wants to know her, that he tries to understand her. Despite not having known him long, she feels comfortable around him even though she doesn’t really know why.

“Um, sometimes at family parties, late at night when all our aunts and uncles are drunk, they’ll let my cousins and I take a tequila shot with them. It tastse horrible, even with the lime and salt, but it’s kind of fun to do it with them.”

“That’s badass,” Eddie riles as he looks over at Y/N with a sensational grin and she shrugs, playing off the happiness she feels at his perception of her. “Have you ever been drunk before?”

“No.”

“Not even tipsy?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just hasn’t happened yet. Alcohol tastes terrible so there’s not really an incentive for me to drink enough of it to be intoxicated.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in concentration and he remains silent for a moment. It’s simultaneously sexy and annoying when she speaks so formally like that. Eddie thinks, would it kill her to just say I don’t like drinking enough to get drunk?

“What?” Y/N breaks the silence.

“Yeah but everyone hates the taste of alcohol at first. Then you get used to it and it starts to get fun.”

“I don’t think drinking or doing any kind of drug could ever be fun, for me.”

Eddie’s in shock at her words. Who their age talks like that? Is she a walking D.A.R.E campaign?

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes!”

Eddie pauses for a moment before saying, “I just have a hard time understanding how someone could not like any type of smoking or drinking”

“We exist, okay? God, you make it sound like it’s the worst thing ever. You know, if there were more people like me, the world would probably be a much better place,” Y/N replies defensively.

Eddie contemplates her words for a moment. The light he approaches turns red and he presses his foot on the brake pedal. He runs a hand through his hair and the sound of his denim jacket rustling can be heard. The silence eats at Y/N and she’s worried her words might have insulted him. She only meant to defend herself, not to offend him. She opens her mouth to say something when Eddie beats her to it.

“Just, tell me this. Do you genuinely not like it? Or are you just afraid of what your parents would say?”

Y/N’s caught completely off guard at his question. She looks outside the window and tries to regain her composure by concentrating on the rush of buildings they pass.

Eddie’s words hit her right in the chest, so hard it almost hurts. He’s right, but he shouldn’t be. How could he have made that connection so quickly? Even before she had? Is she that easy to figure out? Is she that pathetic that others can see it so vividly when all she can do is unconsciously turn a blind eye to it?

Y/N can feel her eyes start to water and heat spread through her chest. She reaches into an ever diminishing reservoir of strength to fight the tears threatening to form at her eyes.

She should not be reacting this way. She shouldn’t be feeling so triggered over such a small observation. And yet, this small observation is one that has defined her entire life. There’s so many things she’s never done or would even think to do in fear of their repercussions. And for someone like Eddie who’s probably never lived this way to see this quality in her makes her feel pathetic.

“Maybe a bit of both?” he softly asks as he looks over at her when they reach another stoplight. Y/N nods and looks into her lap. Eddie senses her discomfort and opens his mouth to say something reassuring.

“There’s also another reason too,” she says softly before he can say anything.

“Yeah?” Eddie replies softly, sensing her apprehension.

“Yeah…Even if I did like it, or even if I didn’t care what my parents thought, one of the biggest reasons I avoid that stuff is because… I’m afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Y/N looks up and sees the last of the sun’s light as it sets beyond the trees in the horizon. It leaves trails of hot bright orange and crimson streaks in the sky. It reminds her of the way her cheeks feel in this moment when she feel’s uncovered, almost naked in front of him.

It’s easy to lie to your friends or your family that you don’t smoke or drink because you don’t want to get caught or because you don’t like it or some other plausible excuse. But it’s harder to tell people that you’re afraid of what it might do to you. Of how it might change you.

It’s not that big of a deal to most people, but Y/N can’t change the fact that it is to her. It’s hard for her not to take things so seriously. For everyone else, smoking or drinking comes easily to them, but for her, it’s really difficult.

“I just…Even though it seems like everyone does it and it's celebrated by society as this thing we all naturally want to do, I don’t. It’s temporary fun for the moment, but after the fact? I see the effect it has on people and… And I don’t want to subject myself to that.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks in confusion.

“When people are drunk or high, they feel good but they… they also lose all sense of control and I couldn’t bear to do that to myself. I couldn’t stand the idea of having no control over my thoughts or my words or my actions. And just imagine what would happen if I was surrounded by the wrong people or in an unsafe environment? It would be really bad and just… I need to be in control…it's all I have.”

Eddie frowns and notices a furrow in Y/N’s eyebrows. For the first time he sees it so clearly. Y/N may be a goody two-shoes girl on the road to college and a perfect life, but she herself is far from perfect. She’s just like anyone else, but under way too much pressure; both from her parents and mostly from herself. She works tirelessly to maintain this illusion of perfection and it's causing so much tension in her; tension he wishes he could help her release.

Eddie wants to do something or say something that would make her feel better but he doesn’t know what. She seems so vulnerable and exposed to him, but not at all weak. There’s a strength in her conviction that even she doesn’t see, but he does.

He wants to let her know that what she feels is okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid or not wanting to do something just because everyone says you should; he knows that better than anyone.

At the same time, he also wants her to understand that being in control is an illusion. There’s much more things in life we don’t have control over than the things we do have control over. If she doesn’t feel that way about drugs is one thing, but she needs to know realistically, there will be other things she won’t be able to control and that it’ll still be okay.

He wants to gently say something philosophical or even poetic to get his point across, but Y/N makes him too nervous. He ends up relying on his good old Munson instincts and says something much more provocative than it is profound.

Eddie looks at Y/N through his peripheral vision then calmly asks, “Have you ever had sex before?”

Y/N chokes and starts uncontrollably coughing. “What?”

“I said, have you ever had sex before?” Eddie says in a controlled voice.

“Please don’t say that with the same casual demeanor of someone asking, ‘Have you ever been to Mount Rushmore before?’”

Eddie turns the corner into Y/N’s neighborhood and she instantly feels a wave of sadness; one she doesn’t really understand. She also wonders why he’s asking her this, especially so close to her house.

“It’s a simple question Y/N,” Eddie says nonchalantly.

“No it’s not and you know it. And it’s not one I’m going to answer either,” Y/N huffs and points her nose up in the air.

“Looks like you already did,” Eddie smirks at her, teasing her to lighten the moment which works as Y/N’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. She’s even cuter when he gets a rise out of her like that.

“Eddie! Why are we even talking about this” Y/N says completely flustered.

“Because there’s a point to it and because it’s important to talk about. Even if it’s not with me, I hope you’re talking about it with someone.”

Eddie is walking a line right now and he knows it, but he somehow also knows how to stay within that line too. He’s right and Y/N knows this but she won’t admit it. Sex isn’t something she talks about or knows a lot about. Sure her friends talk about it and Y/N will pretend like she can keep up with the conversation, but deep down, she doesn’t understand what they’re talking about half the time. She knows so much about calculus, chemistry, and college applications, but she just doesn’t understand what the big deal is about sex.

“All I’m saying is, anyone who’s had sex before knows that sometimes, there’s moments in this life where you’re left with no choice but to give up a sense of control. It can be scary, sure, but when you finally let go of that, it can give you the most satisfying and freeing feeling in the world.”

Y/N scowls at him in confusion.

“It’s easy for you to say something like that. You’d never have to worry about getting pregnant or disappointing people that matter to you.”

Eddie arrives at Y/N’s house and parks the car. By now, the street lights have come on and are the only thing illuminating the space before them. Eddie shifts in his seat to face Y/N. The golden lamps cast a glow across the hollow planes of his cheeks.

“Y/N, for a second, I want you to block out the rest of the world; all its people and consequences. It’s just you and your desires.”

Y/N gulps and she swears Eddie is slowly moving toward her. She’s frozen in her body as Eddie continues and says, “You need to know that you’re allowed to be sexual. And, you’re allowed to not only experience but enjoy pleasure. It’s what makes us human.”

Y/N blinks rapidly and focuses her concentration on his big brown eyes. His bangs are getting so long they threaten to drape over his eyes like the curtains at a theater. His full lips curl and tighten with every syllable he speaks. Y/N’s breath is caught in her throat so she reminds herself to breathe but it ends up being shallow.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, confirming that she’s listening to him. She nods slightly which is more than she thought she’d be capable of. She feels paralyzed in her body and her mind.

Where is this coming from? Why is he telling her this? Why do his words stir something in her body that she can’t even begin to explain because she’s never felt them before? How did one of her deepest darkest secrets get brought to the surface, exposed by none other than Eddie Munson?

And yet, he’s not judging her. He’s not making fun of her or thinking she’s weird for it. He’s helping her. But why? He pried this thing out of her, uncovering something that would make most run for the hills. But he… he has her heart on a silver platter and is protecting it? He’s treating it with the utmost care.

“If you ever want a safe space with someone you trust,” he emphasizes every other word and locks eyes with Y/N as he slowly and clearly tells her, “to be able to give up control in a way where something good comes from it…”

Eddie doesn’t say it, but he wants Y/N to know that if she ever experiences those urges, he can be a safe place for her to explore those desires. And without saying it, Y/N knows that’s exactly what he means. The thought makes her tremble.

The sound of a car door shutting snaps Y/N out of her paralysis. She sharply inhales and turns over her shoulder and sees that her neighbor just got home.

“I gotta go.” She scrambles to undo her seatbelt and mutters nervously.

“You need to leave. Now. Before my dad gets home and sees you,” She nervously tells him as she jumps out of the car and runs into the house. Another neighbor walks past her house with their dog. The sound of the dog barking puts Y/N on edge even more, but she forgets about it as soon as she runs through the door.

She zooms up the stairs and runs into her room. She softly shuts the door because if she slammed it shut, who knows what fresh hell her mom would give her. She makes a beeline for her closet and collapses to the floor. She closes the door behind her and takes an extremely deep breath in. She wants to cry but now’s not the time. She’ll wait till she takes a shower later so no one can hear her and the hot water will help depuff her eyes so no one suspects a thing after.

She looks at her watch and sees that it's 6:49. She has a good 5-10 minutes before her parents will start to worry. She can make up an excuse that she had to go to the bathroom or briefly check the TV listings to make sure she can tune in on her favorite tv show that will come on later that evening. She’ll come up with something, but for now, all she wants to do is explode.

This is starting to become more than what she bargained for and it's overwhelming. Eddie’s getting too close and Y/N convinces herself she doesn’t like it but in reality it just terrifies her more than anything else. What’s worse is that he knows too much about her and she hardly knows anything about him. She feels helpless and like she doesn’t know what to do which is an even worse position to be in. How could this happen?

When she got partnered up with Eddie Munson, she expected she’d be doing all the work while he only slacked off. Not the most ideal situation, but one she could tolerate and push through till their due date at the end of the week. And soon enough they would get their A and she would never have to deal with him or his Hellfire nonsense ever again.

She didn’t think he would actually pay attention to her and actually do the work if she was patient enough to explain things to him. She didn’t think he would actually want to know about more than just her understanding of chemistry. Hell, she didn’t think he would ever get to know her and have her figured out this early on; she’s known practically everyone in this town all her life and no one’s been able to do that.

She didn’t expect to look forward to seeing him again. She didn’t expect she would replay their conversations in her head before she went to sleep and imagine what other things they might talk about when she saw him next. She didn’t expect to find Eddie charming or endearing. She didn’t expect he would push her buttons or make her laugh. She didn’t expect to feel so safe with him either. Least of all, she didn’t think she would ever find someone who truly understood her, not until Eddie Munson came along.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things s4 #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie stranger things #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fandom #urfavstargirl1

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cielpansyhive · 5 months

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Cielpansyhive multichapter WIP list!

All of these are in various stages. Some fics are completely plotted, hence the chapter count, some chapters are to be decided still. Others are mostly figured out, a few are vague ideas. A handful of them already have a chapter mostly written that just hasn't been posted yet. I'm including works I have posted on AO3 but haven't finished in this list. I've been busy the past few years, I just haven't been posting or talking about my works. I'd love to answer questions about any of these, without spoiling anything of course.

Kuroshitsuji:

Revamp – Heavy LGBTQ+ characters and themes, modern setting. Sebastian rents out a room in Ciel’s house. After much flirting and interests are made aware, Ciel will have to admit to Sebastian he’s a trans man that has been living in stealth. Sebastian was never able to explore his identity freely. Both have old trauma they must navigate as well as society and family’s expectations. Friends to lovers sebaciel. Found family and discovery of identity. Drag queens galore! Background Alois/Lizzie, Grell/Madam Red, Agni/Soma. Slice of life, smut, sex positivity, mental health, trauma, angst with happy ending. (20 chapters) Currently under revision as this was my first fic!

Skilamalink – Crimson Peak AU, early 1900’s. Two brothers and their mysterious butler must find a way to get their hands on a small fortune. Their inheritance is sinking into the red clay. Ciel Phantomhive searches for a new bride in hopes of marrying into wealth. Tragedy follows the Phantomhives like a dark shadow. Astre Phantomhive is deathly ill and in need of treatment. While he knows there are sinister things that go on behind the scenes, in his wildest dreams he could never imagine what is being kept from him. When Elizabeth Midford comes into the picture secrets begin to unfold. Horror, whump, mystery, murder, ghosts, dark fic, smut, romance, multiple ships, implied incest, satisfying ending. (6 chapters)

Freakshow – 1930’s circus AU, The Great Depression era, prohibition. Sebastian has searched the city only to have every door slammed in his face. Reluctantly he turns to the only place he hasn't tried, the circus. The last thing he wants to be viewed as is a freak, but he doesn't blend in society very well with Marfan syndrome. Circus owner William T. Spears is falling apart at the seams. His circus is failing, though he'd never admit it to anyone. Too many people depend on him, namely his twin sons, Ciel and Astre. Ciel is the star of the show, the biggest and brightest. His acts include knife throwing, magic, and good old fashion card tricks, made even more impressive by his blindness. Even with the crowds dwindling, he's not ready to move out from center stage. Especially not for the rookie new act. Astre is bored to death. The circus has been the same for years. Same people, same acts, same crippling anxiety that keeps him from performing. People try to make the circus seem spectacular, but to Astre it's just dull, everyday life. Astre has a difficult time making friends due to his inability to speak. Heavy angst, some dark themes, slow burn, past Snake/Astre. (Chapters TBD)

Rumors – Famous AU. Modern setting. A model and a rockstar couple, how original. Sebastian and his band are at the top of their game. Everyone wants to interview them, the paparazzi won’t leave them alone, and rumors fly in an instant. Ciel’s a well-known heir and model, finally making his first semi-public appearance since he was held for ransom. People want his story, at least what they can’t already see. Ciel is never without his eyepatch and gloves, he refuses to talk about that day. He attempts to move forward with his modeling career. Ciel hasn’t been laid in years, of course he won’t turn down the handsome rock star that approaches him at a party. For Sebastian it’s been…a few days. Sebastian has never had a serious relationship, but Ciel interests him. Sebastian invites Ciel to join them on their mini tour. Ciel would have to leave behind the security of his home and his own personal bodyguard for the first time in years. It’s all sex (a lot of sex), drugs, and rock n roll. Sebastian and Ciel try to navigate a relationship they must hide. Both are on the edge of self-destruction. Angst, intense themes, trauma, drug use, self-harm, eating disorders, mostly hurt/barely comfort, betrayal, lots of smut, hopeful ending. (9 chapters)

Bloody Bastian – American Mary AU. Modern setting. Sebastian is a surgical student getting ready to start his residency. Med school isn’t cheap, financial aid didn’t even cover books and materials and his bills were piling up. It was difficult to locate a job that would work with his schedule. He finds an ad that a local strip club has posted. They state women or men can apply, it’s worth a shot. Sebastian enters the club. It looks clean enough, not just a hole in the wall that won’t pay minimum wage. The owner, Bard, takes an interest in Sebastian even though he seems overly qualified. Sebastian’s schooling comes in handy as he becomes involved with illegal surgeries that pay fast cash. He remembers his vow to, “do no harm,” but when do the lines blur? His world becomes tangled in revenge and body modifications. Bard pines over Sebastian and will do whatever it takes to make him happy. Detective Ciel Phantomhive is investigating the disappearance of Sebastian’s previous professor. How long before the pressure causes Sebastian to crack? Dark fic, graphic content, angst, murder, non-con, trauma, slight Sebard and Sebaciel. Vague/open ending. (7 chapters)

Razor’s Edge – Black Swan AU. Modern setting. Ciel has finally landed the role as the Swan Queen. Sebastian, an award-winning dancer from England is to be Prince Siegfried. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing bonds two people in a blooming romance like covering up a murder. Stress is high on the duo as it is. A shadow from the past seems to follow Ciel. Sebastian may have signed himself up to be Ciel’s unofficial bodyguard as threats rise. Dark fic, open ended ending. (7 chapters)

In the Woods Somewhere – College AU with Bird!Bastian. Modern setting. Ciel Phantomhive has been murdered…or at least he would have been if he didn’t make a deal with a strange man from the forest. The man who becomes known as Sebastian finds himself trapped on the surface level. The fine print of Ciel’s contract has bound him for the entire ten years. Ciel is a sickly human that could benefit from someone like Sebastian, if he’s willing to be his student. Ciel is missing half a year’s worth of his memory and can’t recall who tried to murder him or why. Sebastian follows Ciel around campus and attempts to help solve his murder. Between classes Sebastian teaches Ciel a little magic. They visit the woods often for Sebastian to stretch his wings and Ciel to take nature photos. Ciel would have never guessed he’d fall for this strange, bird demon or that it would be reciprocated. Mystery, humor, magic, hurt/comfort, whump (Chapters TBD)

Break Your Halo – Angel/demon AU. Modern setting. After a church collapses three survivors are sent to the hospital. Two civilians are unconscious and in critical condition while the priest is awake. He demands to know if the basement is still intact because “it” must not be let out. Both civilians begin to heal impossibly fast and without their memory. They go by Ciel and Sebastian. They are put in a semi-private room and become friends. They start noticing some odd things and confide in one another. The doctors would think they’re crazy, they already think there’s something wrong with them. They were both at death’s door and overnight they’ve healed as if they’ve been there for months. Maybe they aren’t human, they need answers. Whump, smut (5 chapters)

Nymph – Canon divergent AU.Ciel sleeps with everyone except Sebastian and Sebastian is not having it, that’s it, that’s the fic. Adult Ciel being hit with all the urges he missed in his teens. Every chapter starts out with a frustrated Sebastian complaining in his journal. Yes, a demon keeping a journal is cracky. Some humor, but mostly smut. Ciel/Finny, Ciel/Bard, Ciel/Mey-Rin, Ciel/Soma/Agni, Ciel/Snake, Ciel/Undertaker, Ciel/Charles Grey, Ciel/Nina (8 chapters)

Phantom – Phantom of the Opera AU. Set in 1880s France. Sebastian finally debuts as the star the “angel” trained him to be. He has devoted his life to music and the voice he’d talk to in the dead of night. Sebastian is pleasantly surprised to find out his childhood love, Bard, is one of the opera house’s biggest patrons. Their reunion doesn’t go unnoticed. Sebastian is visited by his angel of music, and he is much more flesh and blood and possessive than Sebastian imagined. Soma is not taking being knocked down a peg well. The audience comes to see him and his darling Agni, not Sebastian. Soma won’t play nice, but what does he do when he’s faced with the man behind the mirror? This opera ghost won’t go without a fight. Bard desperately wants to free Sebastian, yet Sebastian doesn’t want to be freed. Angst, smut, dark elements. Sebaciel and Sebard. Background Soma/Agni. (Chapters TBD)

Slice of the Scalpel – Nip/tuck AU. Modern setting. Brothers Sebastian and Claude run a plastic surgery practice. They have very different ideas of beauty, which helps build their clientele. Sebastian prefers to enhance natural beauty and balance what is already there. Claude prefers to alter and exaggerate things beyond clients’ wildest dreams. Receptionist and Sebastian’s boyfriend, Ciel, is eager to start his schooling to be an anesthetist. Angst, drama, smut, humor. (Chapters TBD)

I Like U for Your Brainz – izombie AU. Modern setting. A newly turned zombie, Sebastian, is a medical examiner working under Ciel’s leadership. Together they try to find a cure for zombies as well as solve murder cases with detective William T. Spears. Sebastian had to leave his old life behind him, give up his dream of being a surgeon, his fiancé Bard, even his sister he keeps at a distance. His extremely extroverted roommate, Soma, must work even harder to cheer him up. Sebastian would give anything to be human again or at least to have someone besides his boss to talk to about being a zombie. He couldn’t be the only one out there, right? Turns out there’s someone that’s making more zombies in the hopes of getting rich and another that is plain ignorant to the problem. Angst, humor, smut, gore, happy ending. Past Seb/Bard, Seb/Agni, Ciel/Soma, Seb/Ciel, Seb/Violet, Ciel/Violet, Agni/Soma, Bard/R!Ciel, Bard/Finny (Chapters TBD)

Star Boy – Actor AU. Modern setting. Actors Ciel and Sebastian are the celebrity couple everyone’s talking about. They are known for co-staring in action movies, their chemistry was unmatched even before they started dating. Their latest film calls for more stunts, more explosions and effects, it’s over the top. Like many actors, Ciel has a stunt double, Alois. Sebastian does as well, Claude. Alois loves performing stunts and he gets along well with Ciel. He gets his own limelight doing extreme sports off set. Claude isn’t as happy with the arrangement. Sebastian gets all the fans and praise, yet Claude is the one doing the hard work. Worst of all, Sebastian gets Ciel. Sebastian doesn’t deserve the life he has, Claude is sure of that. Angst, whump, crime, dark fic. (Chapters TBD)

Another Life – Modern setting reincarnation AU. Sebastian works at an antique shop, one day Ciel comes in to shop around, looking for something “old” to gift his cousin for her wedding day. Sebastian knows he’s never seen him in the shop before, yet he seems so familiar. Oddly enough Ciel is drawn back to visit Sebastian week after week, he is compelled to. There’s a tug on the red string of fate and neither can ignore it. (Chapters TBD)

A New Heart for Christmas – Modern setting. Ciel needs a heart transplant. It’s been years and he’s finally next on the list. He’s tired of keeping batteries charged for his artificial heart and worrying about people thinking he’s dead if he passes out and doesn’t have a pulse. The twins decide to do their annual birthday outing early this year, seeing as Ciel might be recovering still on their actual birthday. His new heart comes much sooner than he anticipated and with challenges he never imagined. Whump, sad, somewhat body horror?, angst. (3 chapters)

Nightshift – Modern setting. Five Nights at Freddy’s AU. Sebastian and Ciel have been hired as night security guards to a “new” pizza joint. Sebastian only moved to the town for college, but Ciel had lived there his whole life. He knew the establishment well. How dare they reopen after what they did to him and his family. Ciel searches for answers to what happened. He knows his brother had to be murdered, he wasn’t just abducted. Sebastian helps him investigate as the restaurant comes to life. With so much dark history it’s no wonder something lingers in the background. Time is running out as opening day nears. Horror, no smut, dark themes, happy ending. (6 chapters)

Free Love – Raver AU. Modern setting. Just a big party, not a lot of plot. A bunch of smut and ships. If house music was a fanfic, this is what you’d get. Seb/Ciel(/Bard), Ciel/Alois, Ciel/Soma, Ciel/Finny, Ciel/Violet, Ciel/Snake, Ciel/Sieglinde, Ciel/Agni, Seb/Agni, Seb/Violet, Violet/Alois, Finny/Snake, Lizzie/Sieglinde, Agni/Soma(/Snake), Violet/Snake/Sieglinde (Chapters TBD)

Phantom Occult – Supernatural AU/paranormal investigators, modern setting, on indefinite hiatus. The Phantomhives have been on the road most of their lives, taking out all the nasties that go bump in the night. Vincent and his twin sons have teamed up with a half demon named Sebastian and a witch, Sieglinde. Sebastian has very little memory of his past. He was found by Vincent and Cedric (Undertaker) on one of their hunts. In search of answers, Sebastian is trying to track down his demonic father. Sebastian has proven his loyalty to the Phantomhives time and time again. He will, as Vincent’s last request, ‘look after his boys.’ Following in their father and grandfather’s footsteps the twins take on cases involving the supernatural. Vincent Jr. has his work cut out for him with Ciel’s fragile health and Sebastian’s ever changing and out of control abilities. They may need to seek out a higher being to help them and save the world from damnation. (Chapters TBD)

Phoenix – A/b/o dynamics, FBI agent AU. Modern setting. Partners Ciel and Sebastian are given a case that has similarities to Ciel’s own capture from his childhood. It puts Ciel on edge, but he’s determined to solve it. Sebastian is not the playboy alpha everyone assumes he is, he’s in fact an omega. He’s been having horrible side effects from being on suppressants since his teens. He’s never even had a heat. For his own safety his doctor forces him off suppressants for at least a year. Ciel is hurt and confused to find out his partner for the last ten years lied to him about his dynamic. It’s not long before Sebastian is hit with his first heat. What is Ciel to do? Angst, smut (5 chapters)

Thought Contagion – Cyborg sci-fi AU. Future setting. Sebastian wakes up in the storage section of a lab. Half of his body has been transformed, he’s now a cyborg. He breaks through the facility and finds Ciel in the process of his brain being programed. Sebastian rescues him and they flee the factory. On the outside they discover the horrors of their government and what is being done to the citizens. They befriend rebels and try to take back control. (Chapters TBD)

T’hy’la – Star Trek AU. Future setting. Sci-fi. Captain Ciel Phantomhive and his half Vulcan second-in-command, Sebastian, explore space with their small crew. Slow burn sebaciel. (Chapters TBD)

Aquamarine – Merman Ciel AU. Modern setting. Sebastian whump, Ciel takes care of him. Crime, magic, and smut. (4 chapters)

Voltron:

Atlas Ocean Rescue – Merman Shiro AU. Modern setting. Keith works as a marine life vet at a rehabilitation clinic. He saves merman Shiro and develops a crush on him. Cute friendships, humor, healing, growth, a dash of smut and gore/whump. Slight angst with happy ending. (9 chapters)

Empire – Royalty AU. Set on Altea, not Earth. Shklance with trans Lance and cis Keith. Love triangles, magic, betrayals, war, planets coming together, and a healthy dose of smut. Ends with a wedding. (8 chapters)

Affinity – Modern setting. Shiro hasn’t adjusted well since his new diagnosis, so he joins a support group recommended by his doctor. Keith has been going to group reluctantly for years. His seizures are somewhat under control. He has the company of his service dog, Kosmo, but he’s otherwise alone. Both of their lives are turning out far different than they ever envisioned. Will they give love a chance? Slow burn. Cis Keith. (9 chapters)

The Eighth House – Modern setting. Werewolf Shiro and vampire Keith AU. Shiro is a newly turned werewolf and Keith volunteers to help him. Keith was turned into a vampire in the 80’s. Keith’s best friend, Lance, is also a vampire. They hang out at a supernatural bar that’s run by ex-hunters. Lots of blood and some smut. (8 chapters)

Zombie – Zombie apocalypse AU. Modern setting. After Shiro is labeled as a burden, him and Keith are kicked out from their community. Keith must take care of Shiro and find a new shelter or community for them to join. They find one run by a sadistic creep that was a cult leader pre-apocalypse. It’s not ideal, but where else can they turn? Keith plots to overthrow the tyrant as soon as he can, for everyone’s sake. Angst, whump, gore, smut, dark elements, happy ending. (5 chapters)

As Many Times as It Takes – Canon divergent AU. Keith goes feral and must be confined for everyone’s safety. The team works to find an antidote for Keith. Shiro tries to get his husband to remember their life together as well as remind him how to be human. Hurt/comfort. (3 chapters.)

Euphoria – A/b/o AU. Modern setting. Keith Is a hopeless afab alpha that seems to want the impossible. He’s not attracted to the stereotypical omega and his last relationship with another alpha left him with literal scars. He decides to try out a match service that’s prided itself on hard to match cases. Shiro is tired of being rejected and his body is telling him he desperately needs a mate. It doesn’t matter that he is no longer fertile, his omega body didn’t get the memo. With irregular and intense heats, infertility, being a large omega, and a list of ‘flaws’ a mile long Shiro has been the one unmatched client the service can’t seem to help. Owners Allura and Lance have become family to him and are personally invested in finding a mate for him. Keith and Shiro could be perfect for each other if only they allow themselves to be happy. (6 chapters.)

Club Atlas – Scent club a/b/o AU. Modern setting. A new alpha, Shiro, arrives at a scent club under recommendation by his therapist. Following a serious accident Shiro lost his sense of smell. When it eventually came back everything was overwhelming. He could barely handle his own scent and couldn’t leave his house. His anxiety and trauma have caused his life to spiral out of his control. A scent club is the perfect place to go to for exposure therapy. Omega scents are naturally calming to an alpha, booths are well sealed and private, and clubs take care to thoroughly remove scents of previous clients between rounds. Shiro meets Lance and Keith, two of the omegas that work at the club. They interview him and add him to their client list. Lance is always enthusiastic about his job, he loves it. Keith on the other hand isn’t too fond of the job or being an omega. But there’s something about this client that he likes. Maybe he can make a real difference in someone’s life. Angst, a lot of smut, brief klance. (5 chapters.)

Compliance – Kidnapped AU. Modern setting. Shiro is held captive by his long-lost twin brother Ryou. After going into the adoption system as infants, they were split up. Shiro wasn’t aware he had a twin until he was staring him in the face. Apparently, Ryou had been keeping tabs on him from afar for over a year. He happened to access Shiro’s patient file and felt he could do a better job taking care of Shiro than his current doctors were. Ryou only wants the best for his brother and that means he can’t leave his sight. Still, he does have to work, and being confined he knows Shiro is bound to get lonely. Ryou decides he should get a boyfriend for Shiro, and he found the perfect one. Keith has been recently released from the psych ward. He had no family or friends. He was fired from his job and probably couldn’t even pay for his hospital bill or antidepressants he clearly needed. They could keep each other company. Their living quarters would be cozy, the basement wasn’t tiny by any means…but two people trapped on the same floor, they’d have to share. Ryou wasn’t a monster, the basement was nicer than any apartment that either could afford. The chains were temporary, an exercise of trust if you will. They’ve had yet to earn his. Dark fic OBVIOUSLY (Chapters TBD)

Strength in Gentleness – Shiatsu massage therapist & Reiki master Shiro/autistic Keith. Modern setting. Keith often hangs out at his mom’s work. Recently her and Kolivan’s business has moved location and joined with Allura’s salon. They also hired a new bodyworker that Keith develops a crush on. Fluffy, slice of life, hurt/comfort, humor. Music heavy, I kid you not, every chapter will have a playlist. Lots of cute Krolia and Keith moments. Giving all “The Blades” a happy lifetime. Probably the fluffiest thing I’ll ever write. It won’t be 100% free of trauma, but Shiro has healed and Keith and Krolia have processed their grief. Anxiety and meltdowns can get a bit intense. (Chapters TBD)

The Ring – Boxer Shiro/body worker-therapist Keith. Modern setting. Cute and smutty. Slight whump cause boxing injuries. (Chapters TBD)

Galaxy University – College AU, teacher Shiro/student Keith. Modern setting. Angst. (Chapters TBD)

Vanitas no carte:

I Trust you to Kill Me – Canon divergent AU. Vanitas turns into a vampire. All he knows is his craving for blood has taken over his life. He’s not a curse bearer but he fears he might as well be. Worse yet, he can no longer assist Jeanne, he tries to obtain a solution that works for them both. Noé confesses his feelings and tries to keep Vanitas alive. Angst, whump, smut, romance. Vanoe, possible vanijeanne (Chapters TBD)

#cielpansyhive #some of these might sound familiar from 2018/2019 #some I haven't talked about before #I make notation of cis Keith cause 98% of the time I write him as trans #though not stated in the summaries BB ITWS and Another Life Ciel are all trans #Another Life Sebastian is nonbinary #Free Love has multiple trans and nonbinary characters #not all themes and warnings are tagged as this is just a general idea list #adult Ciel Phantomhive #sebaciel #sheith

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lathalea · 1 year

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For the Sweet Bingo, hopefully no one else has thought to ask for kissing on a ferris wheel and Thorin. I think it could be interesting if Yrsa somehow made an appearance. I do love her! Ultimately, it is your playground. Hopefully the muses are kind. Happy writing!

Hello hello @sweetestgbye! Guess what, it's finally happened, here is your request for the Sweet and Spicy Bingo by @fellowshipofthefics-- sorry it took so long and enjoy! :)

Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (from Blame it on Cider)

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Author's notes: A modern take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship. Since @sweetestgbye gave me a free hand with picking a Sweet and Spicy Bingo prompt, I chose "soulmates".

✨Soulmates✨

“Are you crazy, Thorin? I’m not getting up there!” Yrsa huffed and stomped her foot. And stomping her feet while wearing those new ruby-red high heels was a very difficult thing to do. But she was on a date with the hottest guy at the uni, a.k.a. Thorin Thrainsson, a.k.a. her boyfriend, and she just had to look her best. Especially since today he wore his hair (his amazing hair!) loose and he smiled at her with that soft little smile of his that softened his features, and looked at her with his dreamy blue eyes… making her knees unusually weak. But she was sure the cider they had just been drinking was at least partially to blame. She took another sip and stole a glance at the huge Ferris wheel, the newest–and biggest–attraction of the local amusement park. No, she was most certainly not getting up into that monstrosity, even though everyone in her home town kept on talking about how great it was. For a whole week Yrsa tried to ignore all the Instagram pictures or TikToks everyone kept on posting: “Look, this is me on the Ferris wheel!” “This is me and my bae kissing on the Ferris wheel!” “My doggo takes a ride with me on the Ferris wheel!” “Cute baby’s first time on the Ferris wheel!” “Mikey gets sick again on the Ferris wheel!”

Somehow, Yrsa did not think it was great at all.

“I got us tickets for the midnight ride, see?” Thorin took out four green tokens from the pocket of his leather jacket and purred seductively. “We’ll have the whole pod only for us. It's a full moon tonight, just think how romantic it will be: you, me, the moonlight in your fiery hair…”

“Thorin Thrainsson, I know exactly what you’re doing and sweet-talking me won’t work!” Yrsa poked her finger into his chest (very hard chest, she might add, and a very enjoyable one too, especially when not covered with that black rock band t-shirt he was currently wearing. She was referring, of course, to how well-defined his muscles were. She needed to see his bare chest often. For science. She needed to pass her anatomy exams somehow, right?), “I refuse to become one of the slaves of the consumerist society and go on this ride to hell! Besides, we can do so many other things, like go for a walk in the park…”

“At midnight? I thought you didn’t like that cemetery nearby,” Thorin furrowed his brow.

“Well… true, but still… We have options! Lots and lots of them! And all of them are on the ground!”

“Yrsa,” Thorin murmured, his half-lidded eyes cast a smouldering glance at her. “I know you’re not a fan of heights, but I’ll be with you all the time, holding your hand, just like I do now. You will be fine. I promise.”

Yrsa looked at their joined hands and then back at Thorin’s face. Very handsome face. And that wavy hair of his, dark as the night around them. And the way his lips moved… and she knew what these lips were capable of doing when they were alone. And they would be very much alone during the ride on the Ferris wheel. She swallowed.

No, Yrsa had to stand her ground.

“I won’t be fine! Can you imagine me hanging in the air, 300 feet above ground? It’s not natural!” She waved her hand emphatically, her ruby-red nail polish sparkling in the lamplight.

“I thought that this could be something special,” his rumbly voice reached her ears despite the hustle and bustle of the amusement park around them. “It’s our first anniversary, after all…”

“Oh. Is it? Yes, you’re right! How could I forget? it’s August, and our first kiss was at that wedding… You were so unbelievably grumpy, remember?” She chuckled.

“Only because you kept on brushing me off all day long!” Thorin grunted.

“I was just after a messy breakup,” Yrsa sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m still ashamed of how much I’ve drunk that night. But I’m glad you hadn’t given up on me then.”

“It’s not often I wake up next to a gorgeous woman who insists I’m her soulmate and then falls back to sleep, drooling on my chest…” ��Hey!” Yrsa protested.

“... in a very cute and feminine way, of course,” Thorin grinned.

“Nice save!”

“Thank you,” Thorin made a mock bow, making Yrsa giggled and took another sip of cider from her paper cup.

“One year already, huh?” She hummed. “Our anniversary. I’m sorry, I feel so stupid, I should have remembered…”

“You remember all the Latin names of the bones in the human body and I remember the important dates and appointments. That’s how we roll, right?” Thorin pulled her close so that she was facing him now.

“Right,” she pecked him on his bearded cheek. It smelled like cider, strawberry ice-cream, and that sandalwood fragrance she had given him for Christmas. “Has anyone told you you’re the sexiest mechanical engineering student I’ve ever met?”

“Not often enough,” he rumbled, his lips drifting towards hers, but Yrsa tilted her head back.

“Am I not getting my one year anniversary kiss?” Thorin frowned.

“It depends,” Yrsa wrinkled her nose.

“On?”

“On whether we are going on that contraption from hell,” she pointed at the said contraption moving in a steady, circular, and slightly sickening motion above them.

“Yes, we are,” Thorin said with conviction.

“No, we aren’t,” Yrsa said with conviction.

“So… are you withholding kisses from me? It’s blackmail!”

“It’s called a self-preservation instinct!”

“Yrsa. The Ferris wheel is safe. I swear. It’s brand new, it passed all the tests—I was helping with the fatigue tests, remember? You will be alright!” Thorin squeezed her hand.

“I won’t!” Yrsa shook her head.

“Look at that kid, he just got off the Ferris wheel and he’s beaming!” “It’s Mikey Dorisson, he’s going to puke.”

“No, he’s not, he’s… oh. Well.”

“I told you.”

“But his sister looks happy!”

“Because she’s just uploaded another TikTok vid of him puking,” Yrsa scowled.

“Well, you won’t puke!”

“Because I’m not going!” “Even if I ask you to close your eyes so that I can give you one kiss for every minute we’re up there?” Thorin purred, pecking the tip of her nose. “Hmmm… how about one kiss every ten seconds?” Yrsa batted her eyelashes innocently. “That can be…” Thorin started.

“What’s up, bro? Hiya, Yrsa!” A dark-haired teenager in a worn, navy blue baseball cap waved at them.

“Frerin! What are you doing here?” Thorin growled.

“I came to see how you were doing! Yrsa, have you said ‘yes’?” Frerin gesticulated excitedly.

“He meant the Ferris wheel,” Thorin interjected, but Yrsa clearly saw the deadly stare he directed at his younger brother.

“I don’t— Ouch!” Frerin made a jump. “Ah, yeah. Right. Sure. I meant the Ferris wheel. So, are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t prepared my last will yet,” Yrsa whispered conspiratorially, making him laugh.

“I wouldn’t go if I were you,” Frerin replied with a glint in his eye. “Can you imagine spending so much time alone with my big bro? He’ll probably start telling you everything about the centrifugal force and all that other boring stuff! And what if you catch a cold? It’s very windy up there, you know. Oh, and…”

“Shut up, Frerin,” Thorin groaned, clenching his fists.

“Actually, Thorin was about to bribe me with some cotton candy…” Yrsa stated.

“Were I now?” Thorin’s eyebrow travelled up his forehead. Slowly.

“Yes, you were, “ Yrsa exclaimed enthusiastically. “Cotton candy and that big white teddy bear from the Mirkwood Shooting Gallery.”

“You know how I hate that stuck-up guy who runs the place,” Thorin sighed with a frown.

“But the teddy bear is sooo cute!” She batted her eyelashes again. It always worked. “Please?”

“Well…” Thorin hummed, but Yrsa knew him well enough to know she had already won.

“And you better keep on hugging me all the time we’re up there,” she wrapped her arms around his upper arm and pecked his cheek. “Deal?”

“Deal!” Thorin pulled her into his arms and kissed her right on her lips, most probably ruining her ruby-red lipstick, but at that very moment she did not really care. She could never say no to his kisses. So she reciprocated.

“Guys! You’re disgusting!” Frerin groaned theatrically. “I’m going to get some ice-cream. Who wants some?”

Sadly, no one replied to him. Thorin and Yrsa were too busy.

***

“I’m going to name him ‘Beorn’.” Yrsa hugged her giant teddy bear as she settled herself in her Ferris wheel seat.

“Like that guy who rented us his vacation cabin?” Thorin wondered.

“Yeah!”

“I don’t see the resemblance.” “Well, Beorn here is… fluffy. Just like that guy. He reminded me of a big teddy bear.” She chuckled and sat the bear on the seat opposite her.

“Beorn? A big teddy bear? Didn’t you mean a big, rabid bear?” Thorin put his arm around her shoulder.

“No, that’s you,” Yrsa grinned, but then the Ferris wheel started moving, making her pale. “I’m going to need that hug and kiss now.”

Thorin, of course, complied.

“Yrsa…” Thorin whispered as their lips parted. “You can open your eyes now. We are on top now and the view is…”

“No.”

“Not even a tiny bit?” He murmured into her ear and moved away before she could protest.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, her eyes still closed.

“Not even if I tell you that I have a little something for you? For our anniversary?” Yrsa decided that Thorin using his deep, purring voice had to be classified as a crime. She couldn’t say no, could she? She opened one eye. Just a little bit. Just to see why Thorin had stopped embracing her.

What she saw made Yrsa open her other eye and gasp. Thorin was kneeling on one knee in front of her and held something in his hands.

“Yrsa… I have to tell you something. You knew it from the moment we first met, but it took me a whole six months to realize that you were my… soulmate.”

“T-Thorin?” Her voice trembled. Somehow, Yrsa forgot that she was sitting in a small pod 300 feet above ground in darkness, sailing through the air with the moon hanging above them. “What are you saying?”

“I’m trying to say that you are the one I want to spend my whole life with.” Thorin opened the little box he held in his hand. Against the bottle green velvet, something glittered like the stars above them. “Will you marry me, Yrsa?”

Before she drowned in the low, velvety rumble of his voice, in the deep blue sea of his gaze, Yrsa managed to whisper, “Yes.”

At that very moment, she was not afraid of heights at all.

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @jotink78 @rachel1959 @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad @saltwater-in-the-afternoon

If you'd like to be tagged in my fics (or removed from the list), please let me know!

#thorin oakenshield #fanfic #fotfics #sweet and spicy bingo #thorin x yrsa #blame it on cider #thorin x oc #thorin #thorin fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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mattiehenderson · 8 months

Text

Elf-Witch

Synopsis: my first Stranger Things fic, don't be hard on me please. I'm so happy to see an 80s metalhead represented in a positive light for ONCE! I couldn't help but fall in love with him just like everyone else with taste. So I prefer writing male x male romances, and can I just say we need way more bottom princess male reader and dom daddy Eddie fics. This is my attempt to try and help with that. So this story focuses on my OC, Matthew "Mattie" Henderson, he's Dustin's older brother who's a senior. Heavily bullied for being so effeminate and goth. He has always had a crush on Eddie Munson since freshman year, but unfortunately Eddie is straight...or is he?

Warnings : Sexual language and imaginations. Minors do not interact, 18+.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!OC

☆☆☆☆☆▪︎☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Look at me, please turn around and just look at me.

I stared intensely at the boy who sat in front of me in English, wavy chestnut curtains of hair poured past shoulders too broad for a normal senior, and onto my desk.

I could smell his v05 shampoo, the aloe one, and the Irish spring that almost hid his signature Marlboro and kush cologne. Slowly, quietly, I inhaled the scent that was all things Eddie Munson, the eternal prisoner of Hawkins High School.

In my marble notebook that was graffiti'd with cutouts of my favorite bands and scented stickers, I sketched an imprisoned Eddie in a medieval, hooded cloak behind bars, and coming to rescue him was a soft looking male witch. It went along with the story I was secretly writing for my own pleasure, the poor dungeon master who has been trapped in the dungeons of Hawkeye Castle for 400 years, under an evil queen's spell. Perhaps I named her Queen Cristiana of Hawkeye, after a certain stupid cheerleader that I always see hanging around a certain metal head after hours.

I don't know why I do this to myself, in what universe do I have a chance? Maybe in my own universe in my own land of make believe, but nymphs and orcs and furies also exist there so there's that.

In the real world, Chrissy Cunningham is the most beautiful girl in Hawkins, she's the head cheerleader and smells like Anais Anaïs, she has perfect hair and she's a she.

I, Mattie Henderson, am a boy. Not only am I a boy, but I'm a boy who wears more makeup than any girl in school. I wear my bleached curls too long and listen to darkwave. Eddie Munson would never!

I gently huffed before I finished sketching the scene where Matthias the Enchanter, in his red violet cloak and gossamer garments, shared a kiss with Sir Edward the Banished.

It was hilarious really. I have known him since I was a freshman, secretly pining, and knowing we have many interests in common, especially D&D, but I've always been too shy to approach him. Too shy to approach anyone, only having one friend my whole time living in Hawkins, Robin Buckley. I'm not as good with people as my little brother, growing up in the Midwest with being what I am and how I am, I figured it's smarter to keep away. Robin always understood me, since we met in seventh grade and I moved here from Connecticut.

After everything last summer with Starcourt, and finding out about what my brother and his friends have been apart of, I shockingly acquired new friends, the very unexpected Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and my art class acquaintances Jonathan Byers.

It's been a lot, it's been a fucking lot, and with it being my senior year the stress has been added. Mom keeps asking about my college options, telling me Indiana University has a pretty good art program. But I don't have the grades, I do enough to get by, school makes me miserable, I could care less about mundane things like classes and grades and teachers, and artificial societies. And sure I like art, but I love doing hair and makeup and nails too, something my mother definitely reaps the benefits of. And I don't exactly love Hawkins the Cursed Lands, but after everything and not sure about this place ever being safe again, I'd never leave my brother here without me. And as pathetic as it sounds, the thought of leaving the man who doesn't know I exist makes my stomach hurt.

I felt guilty for my thoughts, for my fantasies about him, for wishing the reason why I put my black velvet choker on this morning was to cover a bruise from his huge, ring wrapped fingers. Oh how I would cut off all twenty inches of my hair to just have his towering 5'11 frame over my 5'5 one, staring down into my black lined Hazel eyes, with his dark, teddy bear gaze.

The teacher must have sent paper down, because with the melodic swish of his chocolate butter ringlets, I was looking up at him and slamming my marble notebook shut faster than you can say Kissimmee. Dark, button eyes glanced at me before doing a double take. Now fixated on me feeling like a goldfish, with his plush, pillowy, bubblegum pink lips parted.

How the hell could anyone ostracize and hate such a gorgeous human being? Then the angel spoke and I felt like he was oozing the gospel.

Here we go again.

All because of one damn class I'm sitting in Johnson's English for the third fucking time.

I was the last one to plop my ass down, toward the back, the desk with the D&D scribbles and the classic "Ozzy rules" that violated government property. I got a snide remark from Johnson, and snickers and insults from Carver and his ball buddies.

This was exactly why I preferred to escape to my own world, where there are dragons and halflings, or when I close my eyes and finger my sweetheart. Just close my eyes and listen to The Number of the Beast, forgetting that reality is being the town's leper in a town where they decide Jason Carver is a good person because he knows his way around a ball.

Johnson was droning on about fucking writing prompts where he cares more about where a comma goes than if the story is good or not.

And then, as I'm passing back the picture prompt for the first day of hell, I did a double take at a new face. A face prettier than even the likes of Chrissy Cunningham. Looking up shyly at me, drawing out a protective feeling I didn't know I possessed, are bedroom, dreamy lidded eyes painted a lavender gray,with thick broom-like sweeping lashes that flutter before bright Hazel eyes, that reminded me of summer turning into fall, green fading into browning leaves and golden maples. Kohl-rimmed, making them more pronounced and more awe-inspiring.

Her nose is cute and broad with a puggish finish that rests prettily between roundish cheeks painted a deep blush. My eyes traveled down to a pair of the ideal cock sucking lips, I'm so sorry but I don't really know what else to call them. They're so full and big, so cushiony and I'm a pretty imaginary guy, so what I'm thinking of doing to that mouth…fucking that gorgeous face, making those Hazel eyes water and her gothic makeup run down those pretty chipmunk cheeks, making a big mess of her blood red lipstick smudging it on my cock.

I shifted in my seat feeling my dick stir, and this was not the time. Cascading around her face was voluminous white blonde curls, so wild and untamable like an elf-witch, very surreal and otherworldly and contrasts beautifully with her dark eyebrows.

And as if my she-elf couldn't have been more perfect, not only did she have herself collared by a black velvet choker, but a cut off Shout at the Devil Mötley Crüe shirt encased her. My mouth watered and when she lifted a fishnet, arm fingerless glove adorned wrist to take the prompt from me, I inhaled the sweet smell of apricots and roses and sweet, expensive perfume. I couldn't get enough of it.

"Munson, are you drooling? Is that drool, freak?" Carver happily and loudly like a fucking foghorn called me out in front of everyone. Nothing new, usually I'm very unphased by embarrassment, I mean I'm a 20 year old senior. But, for once that jockstrap got to me, knowing this enchantress witnessed it witnessed him calling me out for something she caused. I snapped my head away fast and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket before inspecting the porosity. Damn, I was fuckin drooling.

Saved by the Johnson, the droning authority started a roll call. Imagine my surprise when Johnson called out Matthew Henderson and it happened to be my little elf-witch…or elf-warlock should I say.

#eddie munson x male reader #mattie henderson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things oc #stranger things

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pyropsychiccollector · 5 months

Text

Founders: Profile Data

(๑╹ω╹๑ ) Time to try something a wee bit different... I've done bios on characters, of course. This information is purely for sport and fun. And all of the measurement info is canonical, so I will receive no backlash from this. *stares at certain people* (๑╹ω╹๑ )(๑╹ω╹๑ )(๑╹ω╹๑ ) The rest, of course, I left to imagination~ \(๑╹ω╹๑ )/

And because this is a test to see how it's received... I'll do the data on my "Founders", the girls I most strongly ship with Makoto. They started Danganronpa ships for me... And in Maiko's case, she earned her way up there. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Chisa did as well, but... She has seniority on Maiko-chan. (๑╹ω╹๑ )

#6: Maiko Kagura, Ultimate Dancer

Height: 160 cm (5'2")

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 75 cm (30")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: November 29

Likes: Big ramen servings (canon), Pop music, Danceable music, Comfy clothes, Her foster "family" in the red light district, Positive Attitudes, Good deals on home appliances and utilities, Kindhearted senpai that take the time to hang out and listen to her

Dislikes: Natto (canon), Abandonment, Scammers, Perverts, Bullies

#5: Chisa Yukizome, Ultimate Housekeeper

Height: 161 cm

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 89 cm

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: May 3

Likes: Cleaning, Laundry, Cooking (canon), Ultimate Students (eventually all students), Passion and Confidence, Time with loved ones, Frilly aprons and dresses, Sweetheart students that help keep everyone in line and get flustered when one-on-one

Dislikes: Cockroaches (canon), Sleaziness, Laziness, Lack of motivation/drive, Corruption, Bullies, Dirt and grime

#4: Junko Enoshima, Ultimate Fashionista

Height: 169 cm (5'7")

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 90 cm

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: December 24

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Trendy Clothes, Malleable people, Being on top, Her sisters, Opulence, Compassionate lucky boys that never gave up on her despite how bad off she was originally

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Old-fashioned clothes and stuff not trending, Smartasses, Rivals that get in her way, The slums, Plans going awry, Reminders of her past

#3: Mukuro Ikusaba, Ultimate Soldier

Height: 169 cm (5'7")

Weight: 44 kg (97 lbs)

Chest: 80 cm (31")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: December 24

Likes: Her sisters, Army knives (canon), Straightforward procedures and rules, Quiet, Night racing (motorcycles), Training, Reconnaissance (keeping tabs on loved ones), Compassionate and tender lucky civilian boys that wasn't put off by her talent and continued trying to be her friend...who also gets along with her sisters

Dislikes: Makeup (canon), Shallow and aggravating people, Threats to her sisters, Threats to Naegi-kun, People that look down on soldiers (namely their ability to return to society), Flashy clothes/items, Unnecessary procedures and rules that make things harder rather than actually make a difference

#2: Celestia Ludenberg, Ultimate Gambler

Height: 164 cm (5'5")

Weight: 46 kg (101 lbs)

Chest: 80 cm (31")

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: November 23

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Marie Antoinette, Gothic lolita fashion, Gothic architecture, Extravagance and opulence, Winning, People that do as she says, European castles, Tenderhearted lucky boys that try and see the real her beyond all the lies and backstories...who don't mock her dreams, but urge her to become a better person

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Loud and annoying things and people, Smartass peasants, People that waste her time, Losing, Certain ruffians BORN into money and opulence that know nothing of winning your way there personally...ESPECIALLY the duplicitous "nice princess" stereotypes

#1: Sayaka Maizono, Ultimate Idol

Height: 165 cm (5'5")

Weight: 49 kg (108 lbs)

Chest: 83 cm (33")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: July 7

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Pop music, Her band, Her fans, Singing and Dancing, Genuineness, Compassion and Kindness, Friends that see past her public image, The idea of teaching music and dancing to future students, Comfy and Cozy families (blood doesn't matter; just the idea people are there for each other...), One-of-a-kind selfless lucky boys that help others without asking anything in return...who she's wanted to know for a few years now, finally got the chance to, and easily fell in love with him without regrets

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Threats to her friends' livelihoods, Managers with unrealistic expectations, Duplicity and backstabbing, People who are just FAKE and inflict harm and enjoy it, Loneliness, Despair, Bullies, People imbued with "talent" and coast by without effort or purpose

(๑╹ω╹๑ ) *sips tea* I regret nothing~

#Danganronpa #Makoto harem #Maiko Kagura #Chisa Yukizome #Junko Enoshima #Mukuro Ikusaba #Celestia Ludenberg #Sayaka Maizono

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fishtre · 2 years

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So what is the endgame for jaydick in kemonomimi au? Their world is quite brutal and harsh, so I guess they won't fall in love, but Dick will be like,more affectionate towards Jay or smth? And, if I understood it correctly, Bruce gifted Dick with an omega for his own personal use? So Jason has to live and travel with Dick from now on? And what will happen when Dick has to settle down, find a mate and have pups? Jason will be free to leave when Dick doesn't need him anymore?

I did all I wanted with that medieval kemonomimi AU, so the limit is your imagination now. Nothing stops you from having them fall in love.

To clarify: Jason is only Bruce's olive branch toward Dick. Dick doesn't really own Jason. A serf is a property of the land (Gotham). Jason is still legally Bruce's servant; or whoever is to replace him as Gotham's lord. Dick only has his pack alpha's words here.

Bruce can choose to make Jason a free-folk at any given time. But no, there's no guarantee of freedom for Jason here. People like to keep a good helper around for as long as they can.

Jason can follow Dick. Dick can stay with Bruce and become Gotham's sheriff. Dick can leave Jason at the manor like a toy he outgrows but still reclaim him whenever he visits. Jason can flee to try his luck elsewhere, etc….

If Dick settles down, Jason can serve his household/pack just like Alfred serves Bruce. Or Dick can always send him away, back to Bruce if he doesn't need him or if Dick's mate is not having Jason under their roof.

Between us, that AU is bleak enough that when I was working on it, I once imagined to expend it into something that was pure crack/satire, so here you go:

Tim replaced him in the fun activities and these alphas libido is too much of a hassle. Jason can take it anymore. He flees and hide in Gotham Woods. Because one thing led to another, he becomes a sort of tiny robin hood figure with others omegas pups (the Red Hoods merry band I guess).

Jason only really becomes a torn in Bruce's heel when his band's growing influence stirs a sex strike amongst Gotham's omegas. In order to not be persecuted the omegas who participate in the strike come hide into the woods where they organize a small society. This movement expand to Blüdhaven. Bruce is at some point urged by the crown to resolve the matter that doesn't make anyone laugh anymore now that independent initiatives have popped here or there, far beyond Gotham's borders.

Strength or stealth bring no results for our Alphas who have a common cause again, but they’re too many red hoods to hunt. Eventually the Red Hoods get betrayed by horny omegas who can easily resist their 4 to 6/10 husbands or clients, but not the 11/10 alphas like Bruce or Dick. Even if the movement must make many concessions, Jason is able to negotiate a few things, including his freedom in exchange of peace. FIN.

#reply #kemonomimi hell AU

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djarindykes · 10 months

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Your butch Din posts have got me thinking that my ideal Star Wars au is where everything is the same BUT: all the male OT characters are queer women. Luke? Dyke. Han and Lando? Bi dykes. Red and Rogue Squadrons? Dykes. Chewie? Wookiee dyke. I'm 100% serious about this. Because even when everything is the same, the entire original trilogy takes on a whole host of new meanings if all the men (and there are many) are women. Particularly, I think, in Luke's case.

DUDE FUCK yes oh my god everything about this is so so so so good WOOKIEE DYKES ARE EVERGTNINGGGHGGJHD

Every single thing about star wars would be so different if it was a band of queer women. I agree 1000% about luke. Dyke luke interests me just as much as butch din does because the entire protagonist, hero-boy type gets totally flipped upside down if the hero-boy is actually a hero girl!

luke wouldn’t be taken seriously. let’s just admit that and not kid ourselves. She would fight tooth and nail to show the galaxy that she deserves to be known as the galactic war hero that she is but in fucking *joker voice* society it would fall flat. Her looks would come into play. The men of the rebellion would get the credit. Her integrity would be questioned. It’d be a lot

But……to every little girl in the galaxy she would be a fucking MONSTER. A QUEEN. there wouldn’t be a single girl out there wasting away on tatooine without a luke skywalker ballpoint pen. or dreaming up in the sky about what it would be like to be a legend like her, a pilot, a jedi, a total badass. she opens up a window for soooo many dreamers and imaginative women in the galaxy who need a farm girl turned jedi to look up to

dyke luke would be angry at the galaxy. She’d want her credit. She’d be the face of a lot of galactic social issues without even necessarily wanting to be. She’s tired of being a political pawn. but she ends up living her best elderly Jedi life on ossus with her butch wife and heals from all of the mistreatment the Galaxy has thrown her way. she finds comfort and peace. She gives mouse-girl realness and looks like a little pixie

Luke and Leia as sisters…..hoooly fuck I’m gonna froth

#asks #star wars #luke skywalker #original trilogy #I love dykes everywhere #sw meta

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allhallowsthemepark · 8 months

Text

All Hallows - Ghoul City

The gateway to Ghoul City is located on the right side of the entry plaza as you enter, on the opposite side from Trick-or-Treat Village and Pumpkin Acres, and the contrast is both striking and deliberate. Rather than a friendly small neighborhood or a quiet farming town, Ghoul City is a chaotic metropolis of tall buildings and short patience...and plenty of monsters among the citizens. (It's subtle rather than explicit, but there is a bit of meta-narrative worldbuilding here: in Pumpkin Acres, the horror is hidden/plausibly deniable whereas in Ghoul City, it's right out in the open, and which situation is preferable is a matter of opinion.)

The entry sign takes the form of an American highway exit sign identifying the location as Poul City, with the P overwritten by a GH in dripping red spray paint. Upon entering the area, guests immediately find themselves downtown, on a street between tall brick buildings with boarded-up storefronts at ground level and residential units above. Every spare bit of wall is peppered with graffiti suggesting the existence of monster gangs, and the area is littered with interactive gizmos—ring a doorbell and an irritated wight shouts down at you from an upstairs window, or step on a certain manhole cover to have a motorcycle roar from the nearby alley while its rider's eyes glow red.

As with Pumpkin Acres, the setting for Ghoul City is entirely contemporary, with some old-fashioned twists...but here, rather than being held back by isolation and basic conservatism, the locals indulge in nostalgia. The 1950s, the decade which redefined monster movies, and the 1980s, the one that reinvented the horror genre and Halloween itself (and launched the Goth subculture), are major design influences. This is especially true of the area music loop (framed as a radio broadcast), which probably comes closest to exemplifying what most people think of as a “Halloween playlist.”

Past the first block is the city center, dressed as an open-air mall, complete with a small food court. From here, guests have a choice to go right toward the waterfront (AKA Gilman Municipal Beach) or left toward the suburbs. Each sub-area has its own attractions.

Characters

Unlike the cozy communities across the way, Ghoul City is densely populated and fairly anonymous. There are only a few consistent named characters...but on the other hand, there are more roving “scare-acters” here than in any other part of All Hallows. You might see zombie commuters, punk vampires (only after dark, of course), and werewolf bikers. The aggregate effect is of the sort of “hidden society” commonly posited by contemporary urban fantasy novels.

The two named characters guests are likely to encounter directly, Albert U. Carden and “Batty” Betty Z, are both associated with Club Bloodsucker (see Attractions), as its manager/emcee and deejay, respectively. They are not explicitly vampires, but with the way they present themselves, they don't need to be very explicit about it.

Attractions

Club Bloodsucker: Located where the entry walkway wraps around the “city center” on the way to the suburbs, Club Bloodsucker is a genuine dance club, with live bands on weekend nights, a live deejay on weekday nights, and a randomized playlist during the daylight hours. Decked out like a Goth club, the music on offer also leans toward the Goth end of things but covers enough genres that most people can probably find something to bop to while enjoying refreshments from the bar. (Minors are allowed in as long as they have adult supervision.)

Attack of the Monsters in 3-D!: The signature attraction of the “suburbs” section, a dark ride homage to the monster movie genre as a whole. Guests board classic convertibles and cruise through a city currently under attack by nearly every sort of monster imaginable, from aliens to zombies! Jump-scares and dark humor abound, building to a climax of ultimate destruction!

City Cemetery: In the far end of the suburb area is a picnic area dressed as a picturesque graveyard. There are no rides or elaborate shows, but it's a nice place to take a break from the clamor of the rest of Ghoul City and play with more interactive effects.

Warehouse Maze: The Ghoul City maze attraction is themed as a warehouse on the docks. Loud noises and glaring “safety lights” add to the disorientation as guests weave between wobbling crates, squeeze through claustrophobic spaces between shipping containers, and are startled by inhuman dock workers.

Deep Dive: Located on the waterfront, a flume ride/“water coaster” themed around escaping from aquatic monsters...or are you the monsters, trying to escape the humans? It's open to interpretation.

Shops and Eateries

6. Food Court: The city center contains about half a dozen counter-service eateries offering various sorts of fast food. Individual locations bear names like Frankenburger, Spucci's Pizza, Jiang Shi's Midnight Wok, and Poultry-geist.

7. COSTUMES COSTUMES COSTUMES: Ghoul City's costume shop is framed as if it were a giant overstock emporium. The costumes available here include costumes that mimic the look of a specific decade (50s greasers, hippies, etc.), “career” costumes (e.g. cop, doctor, soldier), “sexy” costumes, superheroes, and famous horror movie characters.

8. Rock 'N' Reel: A video and music store specializing in horror films and Halloween specials and albums. Streaming may be the dominant media platform these days, but Blu-Rays and even DVDs aren't dead yet, and vinyl is even undergoing a revival.

9. Treasures of the Deep: A souvenir shop located near the Deep Dive coaster, featuring all the sea monster memorabilia anyone could want.

Other

Continue following the walkway along the edge of the cemetery to reach an alternate entrance into County Drakul.

#all hallows #all hallows theme park #halloween #ghoul city

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magalidragon · 2 years

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Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it is the overwhelming anxiety and uncertainty I feel as an XX chromosome entity with a uterus in the United States. Maybe it’s just the pics of Keet and my wishy-washy feelings about the new show. Either way, here’s a drabble I wrote in 30 minutes and barely proofread. Enjoy! For @youwerenevermine ! 😎

The really hot guy with the ass that wouldn’t quit was fighting with his girlfriend. Again.

Dany sipped her beer, watching the dramatics, waiting for the next band to perform. She was looking forward to it; it was called Iron Bull and the lead singer was exceptionally cute. She obsessed over one of their songs "No One" when she was feeling extra moody and needed a pick-me-up. Seeing them at Dunstonbury was going to be a highlight of the three-day festival.

Except for the performance being put on beside her, with the really hot guy who had been in the same lawn block as her, who wore way too tight jeans and Henleys that appeared to be specifically designed for his no-doubt sculpted torso. She swore yesterday's white one was painted to his abs, each one visible under the thin fabric. It was enough to make her miss most of some of the bands yesterday, watching him dance, imagining the fabric must have also been made of some titanium strength cotton to keep from shredding with his moves.

And such adorable moves they were too. Rather poncy, she thought, the little shoulder dance thing he did, but she liked it.

She had noted that he was there with a group of people. A redheaded woman who came for short periods at a time and then left for longer periods, her wrist filled with VIP bands-- Dany thought her name was Sarah or something, perhaps Sansa?-- there was the tiny woman with a mullet-like cap of dark hair, boots with about four-inch platforms, and a very metal-like fashion aesthetic. There was the other hot guy and his hotter girlfriend, who disappeared for long periods of ftime as well. Robb and Margie, maybe?

And then there was this guy. And the other redhead.

Missandei poked her hard in the shoulder. "HEy, stalker. Got you another beer."

"Thanks, here, take it. It's too hoppy for me." Dany traded the beers, returning her attention to the couple fighting. Their voices were raising; they were Northern, but the chick's accent was way harsher. The Linguistics major in Dany told her it was definitely far North, perhaps even Beyond the Wall, while the guy's was almost certainly a bit farther south of the Wall. She nodded to the couple. "They're fighting again."

"It's like a soap opera."

"You know they haven't had any PDA, not like everyone else around here." At Dunstonbury there was a good chance you saw a bit of everything. So far, all she'd seen is them fighting and the guy was only smiling and laughing when the redhead was somewhere else. It was a three-day festival and they were almost done with day two. She narrowed her eyes. "It seems that Red there thinks Crow is a cheapskate and that he doesn't care about her as much as he should."

"Crow?"

"That's what she calls him." He kind of looked like a crow, she supposed, with his jet black curls that today were pulled into a messy man-bun. He had been wearing mostly black. Except after he'd changed earlier. Red had tossed a drink at him in anger. She pushed her fedora up a little higher on her head so she could get a better view at them while trying to not appear as though she were actually watching them. She chuckled. "I guess he didn't splurge for VIP tickets."

"She would not do well in the VIP area I don't think."

Dany agreed silently; Red was definitely not someone who seemed like they could hobnob with the high and mighty of Westeros society and celebrity, who were often in the VIP areas where they didn't have to wear muddy wellies and ripped jeans. Or if they were, they didn't have a speck of dirt on them. She shrugged. "That other redhead with them has the VIP tickets."

"Maybe he got them for her."

Dany didn't think so; the other redhead seemed disgusted by everyone in the party. It was more likely she was a sibling, judging from her interactions. She nodded again at the fighting couple. "Watch, Red is going to say something about how he doesn't care about her anymore."

Sure enough, the woman raised her voice even higher, throwing her arms out. "At least pretend to give a shit Jon! You can at least hold my hand!"

Jon, so that was the hot guy's name. Dany hadn't heard it yet. It suited him. Simple. Jon turned away from Red, trying to play off her fighting. His pale cheeks, above a scruffy beard, were pink in embarrassment no doubt. "I'm not doing this with you again, we're not even together!"

That was new information.

Red stomped her feet, tears in her voice. "This was supposed to be us trying again!"

"Can't keep trying with you Ygritte, and no, it wasn't, you invited yourself!" He waved his hand. "Go find Val, you brought her with you, you can't seem to go anywhere without your cousin, I was dating you, not both of you!"

"I only bring her because you shut me out!"

"And how do I do that Ygritte? That would require me to actually care about what you have to say which right now I do not."

Oof, burn, Dany thought, sipping her beer and swishing it around a moment to savor the taste before swallowing. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what else was going on between them, and they continued to bicker, until she heard it, confirming her inner suspicions.

"We broke up, Ygritte, you're my ex-girlfriend, I'm not doing this again."

"I wasn't really your ex girlfriend when you called me a month ago after having too many drinks with Tormund and wanted me to come over!"

"My mistake, clearly!"

He looked pained, this poor hot guy. He was trying to be nice to the woman, who Dany would have smacked already given her nasty comments she'd heard the last couple of days, her constant whining, and seemingly never to have her wallet on her so the guy-- the ex-boyfriend-- was always payin gfor her stuff, while she was also compalining that he didn't get her VIP tickets so she was in the mud and could barely see and hear the bands. If she was from Beyond the Wall, Dany was shocked she didn't seem to enjoy the mud and being with the peasants.

Except maybe she had high tastes, but the designer shoes she woere were battered beyond belief and didn't match the rest of her outfit. Dany didn't judge the mismatched clothing choices-- she was wearing a fedora with an exposed dragon-scale bra and camisole with her cutoff shorts and her knee-high wellies. She was the queen of mismatched fashion. It was probably just this woman's clear hypocrisy.

She felt bad for the guy. Plus, she wanted to talk to him. They'd shared a few smiles here and there, catching each other's eye the last day or so. They'd even chuckled at each other when they'd almost bumped into each other in the bar tent earlier. She pursed her lips and made an executive decision.

"Hold my beer."

Missandei frowned. "Where are you going? The band is about to start!"

"Watch the fireworks."

Dany sauntered off, sliding between a few people in the short distance between where she and Missandei were camped and where the hot northerner and his ex were still bickering. She caught his eye and he frowned momentarily, before she plastered a wide smile on her face and threw her arms out. "Jon! Oh my Gods! I was looking for you, can you believe how packed this place is!?"

And she flung her arms around his neck, her nails digging into the back of his head, dragging his stunned face towards her and planted an open-mouthed sloppy kiss on his-- wow, incredibly soft-- lips.

He froze for a second and then melted towards her, his hands resting on her hips, just above the low rise of her shorts, his thumbs pressed to her hipbones. They burned hot and she forgot herself a second, wanting to savor this and even extend it, but then she remembered what she was doing. She let go and patted her palm against his cheek, knocking her hip into his. "Hi!" she exclaimed, offering her hand. "I"m Dany! You must be Ygritte, Jon told me you were with him. Nice to meet you!"

Ygritte's mouth dropped, her blue eyes wide, stunned. She snapped her mouth closed and swallowed hard, turning her head slowly to Jon. "Jon," she breathed. "Who is this?"

"She's uh...she's..."

"Dany," Dany repeated. She beamed. "We met just before the festival, I finally got here, was looking for him. I've been in the VIP area the last day. My brother is one of the organizers." That’s wasn’t even a lie either.

"What!?" the redhead sputtered. She grabbed a backpack from the rumpled blanket on the ground, beating the hot guy on the shoulder with it for a second. "You stupid son of a bitch! You fucking crow! This is it, we're done!” She hit him one more time for good measure and stormed off, screaming for someone named Val to come with her.

The packed crowds aroudn them screamed in excitement, the music starting up on the stage, as the band appeared. She looked up at the guy, shrugging. "I do apologize about that, I realize the double standard, if you had done that to me it would not have been as well received."

"Uh..." he stammered, his forehead wrinkling. "I do'nt..."

"I mean I just assaulted you. I kissed you without your consent." She smiled. "Although towards the end there I think one might argue there was consent but I won’t assume. I am sorry."

He laughed, raking his fingers over his hair. He had a few bracelets around his wrists and a bandana wrapped around another one, which he undid and went to tie back his hair again. "Aye, I...well...you surprised me."

"I really am Dany, by the way."

"And I'm really Jon, how'd you know?"

"I've heard you guys."

He turned bright red, shouting above the band that began. "Sorry about that! She's my ex, she kind of invited herself and wlel...I have trouble letting go sometimes."

"I gathered," she laughed. She gestured back towards her area. "I'm going to head back. I'm glad I didn't misread the entire thing." She went to step away, but he thrust his hand out to grab her wrist, preventing her. She cocked her head, quizzical.

Jon licked his lips and gestured up towards the stage. "The band? Iron Bull? The lead is my cousin's boyfriend. Gendry Waters, you want to come back to the VIP area? I think I owe you for saving my ass with my ex."

Her heart jumped up to her throat. "Oh, you don't have to..."

"No, I...I've been watching you." His eyes widened when she burst into laughter. "No, no! Not like that, that's...Fuck! I suck at this!"

She waved her hand. "No, it's fine, I've been watching you too. Thought that's why I'd come save you, she seems like a handful."

"IT's why she's an ex!"

"I get it!" She nodded, agreeing, and bit her bottom lip. "Sounds good, let me just tell my friend." She pushed back through the crowd to Missandei and grabbed her beer back, guzzling half of it and swallowing hard. "See you later girl, I'll call you."

Missandei looked over her shoulder at Jon, who was waiting, watching them. She howled laughing, smacking Dany's ass. "You go! Call me later, let me know you're safe."

"Later." She grabbed her jacket and jumped away, dodging a mud puddle and joining Jon, who reached into his back pocket and took out a VIP wristband. She hooted, delighted. "You had this all along and she wanted one and you didn't give it to her? You're cruel Jon."

He smiled sheepishly. "It's a long story, but...well...she just was so demanding about it!"

"Don't have to explain to me."

"What's Dany short for?" he shouted, pushing through dancing people to get to the edge of the lawn.

"Daenerys!"

"Daenerys? Well I'm Jon, like you got already. Jon Snow."

"Nice to finally meet you, I've just been calling you 'The Hot Guy' in my head!"

He pinked again, but said nothing, breaking free of the main crowd and working towards the side of the lawn towards the metal gates that separated out the VIP area from the peasants. He paused under an overhang, near one of the drink tents, and smiled again. "The Hot Guy, huh?"

"Sorry, I know that diminishes you to a sex object when I know there is more to you than that."

"Are you always this direct?"

"Are you always this shy?" she shot back, still grinning. She shrugged. "I don't believe in wasting time."

Jon laughed. "Well I should apologize for saying that I've been calling you the Dragon Queen in my head."

Dany's eyebrows arched. "Oh?""

He pointed to her wrist, with three dragons tattooed just under her palm, and then to her ribcage, visible when she moved forwards and her shirt gaped at the side. There was the outline of a dragon making its way along the pale skin there. "And your silver hair, like a queen."

"I appreciate that." It took a second, but she finally processed what the actual meaning of what he said meant. She giggled, poking his chest-- whoa, it was crazy taut, he had to be ripped-- saying, "So why didn't you say anything earlier? Could have saved you some pain with your ex."

He flushed again. "I didn't know how to talk to you....if I'd known you would just walk up and kiss me, I suppose I would have just said, hello, my name is Jon, do you want to get a drink?"

Dany's violet eyes glittered, meeting what she now recognized were his gray ones-- an odd gray, not black like she'd thought-- which fixed intensely on hers. She leaned closer to him, her arm reaching up around his neck, murmuring into his ear, feeling him shvier under her. "Why don't you ask me now?"

Jon brushed his lips over her ear, whispering, "Hello, my name is Jon, do you want to get a drink with me?"

She sealed the answer with another kiss, before tugging him away, saying something about needing to evaluate his dance moves before she could be completely certain. Truth be told, she really needed to see this "shoulder dance" up close and personal.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #my drabbles #stupid drabble

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