#oppositional sexism cw

[zombifiedheartg]

Yandere Mike and alters( team up if you want! ) with a darling that is the most sweet,caring and calm person of the world! That would never ever make something bad and protects everyone!

If you can't is ok! Take your time,rest well and have the best day of your life!!!! 💞

of course <3 and thank u so much, ur so nice! i didn't include chester for this, i'm sorry !! , i'm so sorry this took so long & it was pretty short :( i rlly hope u enjoyed it raaahhha

yandere mike & alters x caring darling..

cw : delusion, basic yandere behaviour, obsession, mentions of harming ppl, violence in general, mal in general, mike being clingy, manipulation & gaslighting , sexism, jealousy of course .

.

mike

˚﹟🪐 'ಇ.

he thinks you're the sweetest thing thats ever happened to him!! your caring nature is so alluring to him, you're like a dream. most of his life he's been made fun of, ridiculed and just overall bullied.

but with you, it's refreshing not to be mocked almost 25/8. and you always defend him, it's so nice! he's attached himself to you, he's so clingy.. he never goes anywhere without you. where you go, he goes.

it's so suffocating and annoying not to have any alone time, but you'd never tell him that, you don't wanna hurt your precious boyfriends feelings do you? the guilt would just eat you alive!

you're an angel to him.

the weird glances you get from people as he practically hangs on to your waist are worth it.

he's more possessive than he'd like to think, he gets jealous sort of easily. i mean, he trusts you! you're most loyal person he's ever met! another trait he loves about you, but it's not exactly you he's worried about.

he just doesn't think any guy or girl that flirts with you actually deserves the attention you bring them.

mike can't help but think your kindness is a bit too much, people never actually repay the favour. you practically give the world to others and get nothing in return! it's so unfair,

he'd never treat you like that. you aren't a stepping stool to him. you're so much more than that, why can't you just properly accept his love?

he also loves how calm you are, you can easily defuse any situation. your aura overall is just enchanting, it's usually so hectic on the island, surrounded by people who are polar opposites, followed with chris's sadistic life-threatening challenges, you always make him feel at peace somehow.

and that's something he always longs for.

''god, you're so cute!''

.

manitoba

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

none of the diamonds and other valuable things he's found in his adventures compare to how much you mean to him.

you're a real sweetie, and he loves it!

your compassion has quite the charm, he's found himself with a few scratches here and there after a wrong turn during exploring, and to see your beautiful face up close as you tend to his wounds, he's never been happier.

but lets be honest here, he's kind of a sexist at heart. he prefers to be the ''chivalrous'' one. sure it gets annoying when he doesn't let you do literally anything, but you'd never tell him that.

you're like a pushover in his eyes. so he'd rather cling on to you to ''protect'' you. you obviously don't need protection.. you're perfectly capable. he's seen the way you handle yourself, you could kick someone's ass for him if he asked! he babies you.

but this way, it boosts his ego to see you immediately going to him for help.

and you can really tell someone off if they tried anything, you're so trustworthy. he's honestly obsessed with your company.

he gets quite jealous. he knows you like talking to people and just overall being nice to others, but he can't help it. that person's lucky to even get a spare glance. let alone hear your voice.

''you're a treasure, aren't ya?''

.

svetlana

༘ 💋 ⋆｡𓍢ִ໋🌹 .

oh you're a darling!

she adores how graceful you are.

you two are for sure the cutest couple on this island. you're the perfect person for her! you're just lovely to be around, she treats you amazing aswell!

she's one of the more tame yanderes. she's alot more gentle around you

she likes to teach you dances and such, sure she has way more experience, but she just wants to be close to you.

her love for you is passionate! she's so obsessed with you, you're always on her mind. and she always finds a way to include you in every conversation..

it's a bit of a problem for mike on the other hand. most of his friends are just tired of hearing about you, but svetlana can't help it! if anything, they should be glad to be hearing about you.

when you defend her, she just swoons!

and don't get her started on your beauty, your kind nature just intensifies it!

''your form is just wonderful!''

.

vito

༘ ⋆｡˚🎗

damn, you're a doll.

he's always around you with an arm around your waist, or your shoulder. it's kind of a way to let people know you're ''his''. and he just likes touching you

he always takes your basic human decency towards him as a flirt. every time you even interact with him he's filled with butterflies,

he likes how calm you are, and how easy you take his flirtatious comments with just a small giggle. it's so appealing, sure he likes it when you're flustered, for some reason he's attracted to your peaceful-ness.

he was already cocky, but now that he's with you, it's just intensified. he feels so lucky to be with you. but who wouldn't?

he brags about you so often, it's tiring.. but also endearing, you're always the first person he goes to when he has a chance, that's a thing alot of the yandere's have in common, they can't stand to be away from you.

he tries to impress you as much as he can, whether that be with his looks, or his strength, he just wants to hear words of encouragement from you.

he gets jealous pretty easily, even if you're doing something as simple as helping someone, i mean c'mon, only the vito should hear his belˈlettsa's voice! he knows its just the way you are, but jesus.

''ay, can't get enough of me, huh?''

.

mal

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ 🩸

god it irritates him so much, you're so nice and benevolent its infuriating. he wants your attention fully focused on him most of the time, how can that happen when you're too busy caring for some fucking dork that probably wouldn't even spit on you if you were on fire.

he only likes it when you're gracious to him. with the others though? no way.

he's for sure way more violent than the others, he'd actually hurt you if it meant you'd just fall in his arms.

and you totally just foil his plans, he knows if he hurts anyone that even dared to get close with you, they'd still end up with you somehow, except with closer proximity. which is worse!

but that still doesn't stop him. he'll go as far as to kill that person. he knows who you'll go to for a shoulder to cry on..

he also can't help but think your harmless nature is adorable. you remind him of prey, just so innocent and full of life. he thinks the fact that you won't do anything bad is sorta annoying because he finds himself getting scolded by you for nearly murdering someone.

''what, you think they'll give you the same treatment i do? you can't be that stupid..''

¿࿔💉࿔?

.

.

[pendarling]

Approaching Exam

CW: Language, mentions of exam, studying, Math and English

I'm held hostage by the education system so here is a story revolving that.

Hero's pen clicked over and over again as the slow wind trickled in through the window.

They hated exams, and sometimes, they hated studying more than the results themselves.

Hero sat in the quiet room, a closed-off sector of the library that could be rented out for a few hours in a day, and they were lucky enough to get into one after weeks of waiting. They could see why it was so popular after all; the walls in the room allowed for complete silence, and it put Hero at ease despite the slight eerie sense of being alone. Their eyes glanced up at the sky through the window. The clouds moved so slowly, yet time seemed to go by fast. It made their stomach churn at the idea of being unable to get past the first page of the exam when it did happen, and time would slip by them before they got the chance to complete any of the answers. Their eyes flickered back down onto their page at the mathematical equations listed out in front of them.

"Fuck me." they sighed and ran their fingers through their hair. If Hero could trade their life as a student to become a full-time hero, they would, but being a hero didn't pay as well these days and eventually, as they entered adulthood further, they would need to look for a proper job.

'How annoying,' they thought.

The door knocked softly, and Hero turned in their seat as the entrance creaked slightly; their time wasn't up already, was it? They stared at the clock. About half an hour remained still, in walked what looked to be a familiar face, but Hero couldn't put where they'd seen them before. Their brows furrowed when their eyes met.

"Excuse me." The stranger spoke, "Is this room E1B?" They sheepishly laughed at the setting. "I think I'm supposed to be in here today." 

Hero pulled out their phone and checked the schedule they were emailed, "Mmm nope, it says here that this is my room."

The stranger turned their phone toward them as well, "Well, it looks like we got double-booked."

Hero leaned back on their chair, it looked like they'd be having company after all. With a small gesture of the head, Hero directed their new friend to the chair opposite the table. "Sorry." They mumbled they weren't sure why they were apologizing; it was the system's fault for scheduling two persons in the same room within the same hours.

They studied the new character as they set down their items and pulled out the chair. Hero wasn't planning on staring too much, but when someone looked this familiar to them, it was hard to look away. 

They turned their focus back onto their page, still stuck on question 6 out of 30. The practice exam had to be more challenging, and there was no way Hero would make it through tomorrow if they couldn't get this done today.

Sarah is a civil engineer working on a project to design a curved ramp for a pedestrian bridge in a city park. 

Hero ran their pencil under the words.

The ramp needs to smoothly connect two different levels of the park while adhering to safety regulations and accessibility standards. Sarah decides to use a curved shape for the ramp, represented by the function y=√x​, where y represents the height of the ramp at a given distance x along its length.

Hero sighed and ran their fingers through their hair; they were so bored. Why was Sarah even a civil engineer? With all that money to get through the education and become one, she could've instead lived comfortably and married a nice rich husband, assuming her status was at least middle class.

This scenario was so unrealistic, plus it's like ten times harder for women to get into male-dominated fields because of sexism. Hero rolled their eyes and skipped the question. They flipped their page and glanced back at the stranger now reading a book, but what caught them by surprise was their hand, idly twisting a blue highlighter they felt they recognized.

From the back of their memory, Hero recalled a similar situation. 

They sat on the floor bound by a rope. The mission of the day wasn't going as well as they had hoped, and Hero was left at the mercy of Villain while the other sat a few feet away from them on what looked to be a large desk. From their perspective, they could hardly make out what the computer screen in front of Villain was saying, but they could certainly see the way Villain effortlessly twirled the pen between each finger. They always wondered how they did that. 

As soon as their memories left them, it had become apparent. The familiar face across them was Villain.

But what could they be doing here?

There was no way Villain was seriously studying how to annotate for what looked to be an English exam. For some reason, Hero never took Villain for being a student themselves. To be fair, they sort of assumed most villains weren't necessarily part of any civilian activity, and certainly, no villain should be a student of the city they tried destroying. 

Man... if Hero could get Villain to destroy the school facility, they wouldn't be studying at all. However, seeing how diligently Villain remained focused on their work made Hero no longer interested in convincing them.

'Oh God,' Hero turned their face away from their direction, 'What if Villain recognized me and didn't say anything?!' In their bag, Hero knew they kept their dagger just in case they should ever be kidnapped by any particularly vengeful villain; they just didn't think it would be this person of all; they never seemed too fond of doing more than their work let them. Hero swallowed; in that case, they should prepare for a sudden attack if it did occur; there was just no way this was all a coincidence.

Booking two students into the same room? Are you kidding me? The system never messes up. This was clearly a ploy set up to kill Hero.

Their nervousness was felt as soon as their leg began to jump noticeably, shaking the table, much to Villain's delight.

"Excuse me," They set their eyes on them. Hero froze, "Please don't shake the table. I can't write."

"Uh-- sorry."

Hero reached down and unzipped their bag, slowly creeping the knife to their side; they would attack first; Villain wouldn't even see it coming. After unsheathing the blade from its case, Hero measured the distance between the two of them. The table really wasn't that large enough to stop Hero from jumping over it; maybe if they grabbed their arm or the collar of their shirt before throwing Villain down, they would have the upper hand. If that didn't work, maybe a kick or knocking a few items from the table for a distraction. 

Hero remained focused on Villain as their enemy remained unaware. Maybe they were aware and had already thought of all the different counterattacks they could use against them. In that case-- the element of surprise was most valuable.

"What?" Villain frowned at them. Hero shook themselves out of their head; they must've been unknowingly staring for too long. Well, no point in getting embarrassed over it now.

Hero's grip tightened on the handle of the dagger as they chuckled nervously, "Oh, I was just wondering--" They jumped from the table and shoved the blade in Villain's direction. With a calculated move, Villain swiftly moved their head, catching their wrist with their other hand but knocking themselves out of the chair. 

Hero jumped away from them, their ankle stung from accidentally hitting themselves on the edge of the table just as they moved. Villain didn't waste any time and lunged at them, quickly covering the space between them.

A solid blow to their stomach sent Hero stumbling back, and the dagger fell from them with a soft clank; they sunk to their knees, holding themselves from instinctively vomiting.

Villain grabbed the weapon and rushed to the open window, quickly locking it in place and closing its blinds. The room was a lot darker than Hero expected. Had that window always had shutters?

Hero hesitantly stood back up. The sharp metallic edge was pointed in their direction. "Don't even think about trying that again."

Their shoulder tensed at the thought of their next plan; they could run out that door, but what were the odds that Villain had already sent back up to encircle the place, and how would they keep civilians from getting hurt?

Villain licked their lips and inched closer, "Who sent you?" they demanded. 

"Huh?" Was Villain genuinely asking them that? Wait-- did Villain not recognize them?

They laughed softly at the idea of having figured out their enemy's identity before them. 

Hero, the idiot who couldn't get past question 6 on the practice math exam, could easily identify Villain. All this time, they had been under the impression that Villain was intellectually superior to them in every way, and although that may be the case, they were not one for remembering faces. It made part of Hero feel tremendous.

"No one." 

Their bag still contained a few other items of use, such as a small smoke grenade that would definitely come in handy. Hero would have to go online and do the practice exam from their computer; there was no way in hell they'd be able to collect all their things and run. 

Villain wasn't feeling very entertained with the prospect of having to forcibly recall to the best of their ability what they'd done to be assassinated during their downtime. Without letting their eyes leave the other student, they walked toward Hero's bag and reached down; Hero felt a sweat come on; did they know they were hiding more tools in there?

"Hey, don't go and steal my lunch money, alright?"

"Shut up." They pulled the tag attached to the bag and examined the student ID card intently; it looked like an actual student identification card, though the name didn't ring a bell at all. 

"Villain, I'm actually offended that you don't know who I am."

"My bad, I wasn't aware there was an exam for memorizing faces as well." They tilted their neck from side to side, examining Hero's unmoving position. 

Nothing about them stood out, but this person knew their name and must be a hero, at the least, seeing how their only sense of heroism was throwing themselves in danger-- a common feature among most heroes, but that didn't narrow down which hero, in particular, they were looking at.

"Not even my voice?" Hero glanced at them with a slight pout.

Their enemy racked their brain, still clueless about their identity, and their hands roamed around the pieces of paper Hero was working on. "Whatever, are you even a real student or did you just come here to distract me?" 

Hero didn't reply with anything other than a shrug. They didn't initially come to attack Villain, but they also couldn't let Villain live freely within their presence. 

Villain raised the practice exam questions to their face, reading the sheet as if searching for answers to help them understand who they were up against. "You didn't even do most of these right. How did you get 1.6667? It's not even listed in the multiple choice."

They threw down the booklet onto the table; Hero blushed, "I'm not good at that stuff. But don't change the topic, alright? I could've killed you if I wanted to."

"But you didn't." They smirked.

The door pushed open again, and Villain hurriedly tucked the dagger away.

"Excuse me~" A young woman and a few of her other friends stood outside, "We reserved this room for 6 pm...?"

Villain looked at the clock and then back at the group. "We'll be leaving now. Sorry about that." They looked at Hero and egged them to get to cleaning their mess. Their feet moved, albeit nearly struggling to keep themselves upright from the pain of their ankle. They should've been a lot more careful when it came to spatial awareness. Now wasn't the time to mull on that, though. 

Once they had left the library, Villain headed in the direction of their exit. "You still following me?" They spoke, almost irritated.

"You have my dagger, and I would like it back. Please." With a short flick of the wrist, Villain dismissed their request and continued on their way down the flight of stairs. Hero had momentarily wondered what would happen if they had just gotten on with it already, pushed Villain down the stairs and took back their knife. It wasn't like anyone saw it happen anyway; no one stuck around this long after hours, not even the faculty. 

Villain abruptly stopped in their tracks, still a little ahead of them. "Hero?"

"Yes?"

With a slight smile tracing their face, Villain spun their head around to look up at them. For a second, Hero was lost at what they were so happy about until it hit them, and they responded to their name at Villain's call. 

"Fuck you."

Villain simply hummed, satisfied, and moved on.

~~~ MASTERLIST

TAG LIST: @books-are-everything, @kurai-hono-blog, @iykyunho, @marvellousdaisy, @m3rakii, @crow-with-a-typewriter, @sceirlose, @90scliche, @wondergoddess475

Click here to be added to tags.

[crazyqueenmoon]

LEADING A TIGER

Atsushi x Fem! Secretary, both mid-20s

Setting: 1960s AU

TW: sexism, mentions of s*xual harassment, CW: Drinking, smoking, implied NSFW stuff

!MINORS DO NOT READ!

So I’ve gotten back to watching the rest of Mad Men after so long. Though I haven’t finished it, it’s definitely a show I’ve found myself loving and find kinda similar to BSD in terms of its themes and workplace setting. Though they’re TOTALLY different as shows. Mad Men has no action, gore, or flashy characters and is 100% grounded in real life, so if you can’t be down with that stuff in a live-action show, expect to be bored AF. I’ve come it with some head-cannons around the 1960s. Also, Joan is one of my favorite female characters ever and I love Atsushi. Their personalities are completely opposite from each other, and this idea of Atsushi being this new employee at the ADA being shown around the office by a tsunderish secretary and them falling in love was just begging to be written, so here it is:

• The ADA would be like the Sterling Cooper office but with far less drama and gossip. The office would still look nice, but not nearly as nice

• You’re the badass, snarky head secretary of the ADA, refusing to settle for anyone’s BS. The Agency would not function without you helping all the higher-ups and you have a multitasking ability which allows secretarial tasks that typically take 8 hours to be completed in 10 seconds

• Unfortunately, most people have a hard time taking you seriously when it comes to your ambitions and underestimate your intelligence.

• BC it is the 1960s we’re talking about, unfortunately some of your male coworkers will be sexist a-holes that believe women aren’t supposed to be in higher positions/ ask for raises and should accept where they’re at and not be so demanding:

-Kunikida would say this to you after he got overhears you saying that you ought to be promoted. (I know you all love Kunikida and talk about how he drinks Respect Women juice, but this is 1960s Kunikida we’re talking about NOT Regular Kunikida. Plus Regular Kuni does kind of conduct himself in an old-fashioned way, so it doesn’t surprise me.

-You can expect Dazai to harass you and hit on you every single day unfortunately. He’ll also joke about how you’ve only gotten the job BC you offered Fukuzawa s*xual favors even though he’s well aware that’s not the case at all. But he will shut his goddamn mouth and behave in front of you once Fukuzawa or Kunikida is in sight. You’ve also learned some good comebacks from Yosano that’ll leave him terrified of you for the rest of the day. Interactions between you two will go something a little like this:

You: ‘I wanna be on top.’

Dazai: ‘Of me, dollface? Come on, now. Don’t be so feisty at work!’

You: ‘Of the company.’

Dazai: *laughs* ‘You’re gonna be a secretary for the rest of your life. That’s you’re fate, as a working woman. I don’t make the rules. But if you don’t like being a secretary, you can be mine instead.’

-Tanizaki also laughs when you mention this to him. He won’t make lewd comments about you or act domineering like Kunikida and Dazai do, but consider him trash as well.

-You tried to seduce Fukuzawa as a way to get promoted, but he noped immediately. He thinks of you as a daughter, and engaging in quid pro quo behavior completely goes against his values. He hires you because you’ve got the right skills and bc of your hard work, but doesn’t think you’re ready for a promotion combined with some sexist biases.

-Kenji respects you as his elder and superior. He wouldn’t really have any opinions on you being a leader, but even if he thought the same as all your male coworkers, it wouldn’t really bother you or frustrate you that much.

-Ranpo’s probably the only man in the office who isn’t dismissive of your ambitious tendencies, though he’s not necessarily a cheerleader about it. He’s more of a ‘Yeah, you’d be good at it, I guess’ kind of guy at most.

• You also smoke cigarettes a lot. You need them the way Ranpo needs his snacks, and it’s the only way you can calm yourself down.

•You’re filling in for Kunikida’s secretary today BC she’s sick. He calls you into his office, introducing you to your new employee, Atsushi Nakajima.

• “He’s the weretiger that he spent all night looking for, and now he’ll be working with us.”

• “Working with us?” you ask coolly. “Who’s idea was it, to employ a shapeshifter of all ability users?”

• “The president’s,” says Kunikida. “Should I report to him you doubted his decisions, Y/N?”

• “No need to,” you answer. “If it’s what president decrees, then I can expect it to be good.”

• Atsushi’s in awe as he looks at you pulling out a cigarette as you’re glaring.

• “Show the new guy around for the next hour,” says Kunikida, impatiently pushing a startled Atsushi from behind. “And cancel my 2 PM appointment! I won’t get it done with all these documents to read.”

• “Yes, Mr. Kunikida,” you scoff rolling your eyes.

• “Um, ma’am?” Atsushi asks. “Are you okay?”

• “Yes, I’m okay,” you say icily. “Now how about you shut up so I can give you the damn tour, tiger man? Could you do that for for me?”

• He nods quickly and walks behind you.

• “This is where you’ll be sitting,” you say, pointing to a small desk with a typewriter and a pen holder. It’s also facing a gray wall with no window. “Not pictureresque, I know. Though a chump like you should consider yourself lucky getting a desk with a typewriter. Now that you’re part of the Agency, you’d better learn to be punctual and not let your emotions get in the way. Don’t, and you’re left for dead. God knows it’s a pain, but it’s how work gets done around here.”

• Atsushi has no goddamn clue how to use a typewriter, so you have to teach him the whole day, in between passing out documents from Kunikida to the president and vice versa. You give Atsushi your worst frown once the day is done bc of all the stress he’s piled on you.

• On your desk the next day, you find a ‘Thank You’ card and a bouquet of flowers.

• It’s from Atsushi himself. He thanks you for helping him learn how to use a typewriter, and apologizes for upsetting you. Some of the ink is smeared, and he asks you to let him know how he can make it up to you.

•You march up to Dazai’s office holding the card and flowers, telling his secretary you’d like to speak to him shortly. She tells you he’s busy but he insists that she let you in over the intercom.

• “Eager, to see me so early, honey, huh?” he teases as you enter his office. “I knew you’d come through one of these days. You’re making me one lucky man.”

• “Is this some kind of joke, Dazai?” You demand, holding the card and flowers and opening the card.

• Dazai looks at the card and reads it. Handing it back to you. “Oh no, not my doing at all. The one thing I’d never do in a love note to a woman is let the ink get smeared with my tears. You’ve got an admirer Y/N. Atsushi-kun’s in love with you. You heartbreaker you. You’re makin’ me jealous!”

• You spend the whole day wondering if it’s true. As much of a scheming bastard Dazai is, he is good at solving mysteries

• You spend the next two weeks testing out if Atsushi’s got a crush on you, offering him employee training which he surprisingly manages to catch up on

•At this point, YOU’RE the one whose got a crush on him. He’s sweet, friendly, takes you seriously and doesn’t laugh at your goals. He’ll even bring you a treat from the bakery a couple times a week. But you won’t show those feelings to him. When you ask him if he’d like anything in return, he tells you he doesn’t.

• “Y/N, you never asked me what I can do for you in return,” he says.

• “Take me on a date,” you say. “At the Green Palace. 6 PM sharp.”

• “Date?!” he asks, shocked by your answer and how nonchalantly you said it.

• He takes you out and it goes well, eager to foot the bill despite his lowly salary.

• As you spend more time together, you vent to him about how you’re underestimated when it comes to your abilities because of your gender. He doesn’t know what that’s like, but he confides in you about how he’s felt so useless his whole life growing up in the orphanage and during his time at the church shelter. He also thinks it’s ridiculous that all the men at work belittle you, and believes you have what it takes to be in a higher role at the company.

• You’re one of the few people not to judge him for bringing up his traumatic experiences to him, and if he didn’t already trust you in the first place, he’s now given 1000% of it to you.

• You two keep your relationship a secret, though Dazai and Ranpo know. You’ll hear Dazai ask Atsushi personal questions about you two, but luckily Atsushi knows to be careful around him and scoffs at him, telling him it’s none of his business.

• He’ll come over to your apartment after missions to decompress and he’ll try to comfort you too when you’re stressed with work.

• A year into your relationship, you tell Atsushi it’s time everyone knows. He’s hesitant at first, but then agrees to it, and wants you to announce if this is to happen.

• Before announcing to the ADA, Fukuzawa decides to promote you to junior director. It’s got ‘junior’ in it, but it’s a far cry from being secretary and you get your own office. You’re now the only other female employee along with Yosano to have her own office.

• When you’ve announced to ADA, everyone cheers. Kunikida’s surprised, and angry you didn’t inform him about this, but gets over it. Fukuzawa wishes you told him, but approves of Atsushi as a boyfriend to you.

• Surf rock music plays on a record, and everyone gets drunk and hollers.

• “Happy one year together,” Atsushi says softly, holding a small gift bag. “ I got you this. Hope you like it.”

• “A marble bluebird,” you gasp, looking into the bag.

• “You said they’re your favorite birds once,” he says nervously. “I thought it’d be a great gift to give you.”

• “Atsushi…” you mutter. “Thank you.”

• You walk up him and kiss his cheek. His face turns bright red with everyone looking you two.

• “Don’t forget to give me one, too!” Dazai calls out. “It just took a measly glass bird? I’ll get you all of them, Y/N.”

• Kunikida makes a fist towards Dazai and he gets frightened.

• “ You hated my guts, when you first met me,” says Atsushi. “ The last thing I expected was that you’d fall in love with me.”

• “I never hated you, Atsushi,” you say. “ I just hated how I felt. You’ve helped me to believe in myself, and you’re always good to me. I love you, Atsushi.”

• “I-I love you too, y/n,” he stammers. He’s told you every single day, but he wants to say it again anyways. “You‘ve done really great. You deserve all this. Got any orders for me, director?”

• “Follow me to my office,” you jest, smacking his ass.

JFC this is MUCH longer than I thought it’d be. And writing this has kind of made me hate Dazai. But I had a lot of fun, writing this. If you’ve made it all the way here, thank you, thank you, thank you! Please leave a comment and LMK your thoughts.

[pluralsword]

this is one of those situations where we wish people would use oppositional sexism as the umbrella term for transmisogyny instead of arguing about who experiences transmisogyny. From the Trans Woman Manifesto portion of Whipping Girl by Julia Serano, written back in 2007:

idk how tme vs tma works. like if you've never been the subject of transmisogyny, you're tme, and otherwise, you're tma?

[starandcloud]

A Little Gift

Neteyam x Reader

TW: Implied S/A, Sexism, mentions of blood, writer trauma projected, descriptions of past panic attacks, Reader being called "Princess"

CW: Y/N being kinda an asshole, Implied S/A, Descriptions of past Panic attacks

Word count: 4,404

Reading time: 31 minutes

ATWOW Mainlist

Mainlist

You were the village's "wild child". You were expected to be obedient and silent, but Enwa you were the opposite.

"So opinionated." "So loud" "So defiant"

Things often murmured about you that wasn't exactly what your father wanted for a daughter. Your sisters were wise and silent beings of beauty. While you were none the less wise or beautiful, you spoke your mind on many topics that women were expected to be silent about. Like the acceptable number of children, how to act, how to speak, how to address men and your husband. Your tongue was the reason many arrange marriages failed with you, you were too loud and you fought back. It wasn't rare that you'd be seen with "battle wounds", as you called them, around your village. You were a bastard child. There were rumors that your mother cheated on your father with a human, or another Na'vi, but none could be proven. Seeing as you were a perfectly normal girl. Despite the obvious signs of diviantantion.

You cut your hair, and kept it short, when women were expected to keep it long and only cut it when her husband died. You vowed you'd only grow it out when you had actually met your match, in both love and combat. You were an asshole, for a lack of better terms, and deemed "unmarriable". You were insufferable to your father, but he loved you none the less. He deemed you a warrior, of a kind, and you were his pride and joy. But he worried for you, his old and knowing eyes noticed the marks on you from those boys and how angry you were when you came back late and how bitter you were during meetings and how you were much more... explosive you were when it came to how men and others outside your family. But you dotted on your younger brother, often calling him your penghrrap and how you seemed to involve yourself into more conflicts. He never asked, but he knew. He always knew what was happening to his youngest daughter. He was a father and a Olo'eyktan. He wasn't blind. He noticed your frequent outings, and your late arrivals home, and the new hair clips you wore. He never pressed, he didn't want you to think he was intruding.

"Soooo, what's your issue," Neteyam asked as he watched you sharpen a spear with the knife he gifted you, "you seem more... pissy than usual."

You gave an eyeroll as you pressed the knife against the wood again and carved more off, sure you were in a bad mood. But that was none of his business, was it? But you never withheld information from him.

"Another stuck up asshole tried his luck with me, as if I hadn't rejected everyone fucking else. Enwa. I swear I'm going to die old and alone at this point!"

You yelled as you flipped the knife through your fingers and stabbed it into the ground next to you. A growl left your lips and Neteyam's hand gently rested on your kneecap making you snap your eyes down to him. His unamused eyes met yours and you let your head drop against the tree behind you, as a sigh left your lips. The back dug into your scalp as you took a deep breath. You could never place it, but something about that man calmed your nerves. Eased your mind and made you think clearly. Your eyes slowly opened and you stared up at the canopy above you as you felt Neteyam's hand gently rub up and down your leg before stopping at your thigh, his fingers stared to trace circles into your skin. Your lips curled up into a gentle arch as a satisfied hum before your eyes flicked down to him, he had that gentle smile he always had when it was just the two of you. You found it sweet how relaxed he was around you, it made you feel as if he was... a good man. Your eyes wandered down to the beads that dangled by his face and how defined his jawline was. How his eyes caught in the soft summer sun and how gentle his touch was on you... As your eyes wandered you noticed a new bead in his hair, to which you did the most reasonable thing. Your hand grabbed his face and you pulled it close as your other picked up the beads and your thumb gently ran over the bead before looking into Neteyam's eyes.

"I made that. You're wearing it. Why."

You demanded, making his smile widen before he laughed. His laughter was light and gentle before he looked into your eyes, his so much softer than yours which were so cold and hard it caught you off guard. His head tilted gently in your hand as he shrugged.

"Well, for starters, you gave it to me as a gift. And it was pretty, so I'm wearing it."

He spoke so carefree and kind to you, it made your eyes soften for a moment before you scoffed and shoved his head away and picked your knife and stick up again. Hoping to finish this spear before nightfall, you didn't want to hear from the newest arranged marriage man that you were late again. The mere thought made your body tense and your eyes narrow as you pushed your knife harder against the wood and it went a little to far.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath as your knife and spear dropped to the floor, "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck"

You kept cursing as you applied pressure to your wound. You didn't even notice Neteyam move from his laying position until he was between your legs, gently taking your hand. You watched as he kept applying pressure to the wound, "come on, up, you need a bandage," he spoke as he coaxed you up and started to lead you back to his home. He called his Ikran and gently got you on as his arm went around your waist and pressed you against his chest. As you felt the animal lift off the ground, your arm went around his waist and held yourself against him as your eyes squeezed shut. You pressed yourself so tightly against him, you could feel his chest rise and fall with every breathe as you tried not to focus on how far off the ground you were. You felt Neteyam's freehand gently trace up and down your back as he spoke.

"You're okay, I won't let you fall Sweetheart, breathe. Don't want you passing out this high up."

His breath danced across your ear and his chest rumbled as he chuckled softly, his hand never slowed as he spoke. Which did ease your nerves, you took a soft breath and relaxed against him. You felt his hand snake around your waist and hold you flush against him and you felt a small smile cross your lips as you completely relaxed against him. You felt your mind slip into a space it hadn't been in a while, your mind repeated "safe" as the wind whipped your hair into your face and chilled your skin as you subconsciously let your head find its way into the gap between Neteyam's neck and shoulder and rest there. He had a smell of rainwater and wormwood, it was a smell you found comforting and warm. It had your eyes fluttering shut quicker than you would've liked and your breathing fully evening out, it made your head fuzzy and your guard drop enough that you hardly noticed Neteyam's other arm wiggle it's way around you as the wind drifted your hair up as the Ikran took a drop down and your swore you felt your organs lift slightly as your body fell down with the animal. Though you hardly noticed as you let out a hum of contentment and allowed your head to nuzzle deeper into Neteyam's neck. Words almost slipped your lips before you felt his voice bounce off your shoulder, "we're here princess," his words were so softly you almost didn't think they were real until his arms removed from your body, their warmth with them. You sat up and immediately took notice of his shit eating grin, making an eyeroll break from your originally soft and dazed outlook. You fumbled off and let him guide you towards the medical camp, you took a subtle notice of his hand hovering behind your back. You didn't comment on it and kept your head held high and ducked into the medical house, you gave the customary three finger greeting and kept your gaze low when Neteyam left you to get bandages. You listened into the talk around you and let your eyes close, you hadn't meant to listen in but fucking hell when your father's name was brought into a conversation. Your ears perked up and you bit your lip to hold back a laugh as you tried not to giggle at some of the things said, while true. They were hilarious to you. It wasn't long before Neteyam returned and gingerly bandaged your cut, all the while poking fun at you for your reaction on the Ikran.

"Who would've thought, lil miss warrior, is terrified of heights."

His laughter made your heart ache and your blood run as if it was a viperwolf, which made you reaction in the only way that came to mind. Your foot planted itself on his chest and you pushed. You watched him tumble back onto his back as you took it upon yourself to bandage your hand. You didn't look up from him as you did, his chest shaking with laughter before you growled lowly at his continuous teasing. You tied the bandage a little to tight, your fingertips turning a light blue as you scoffed. You gave him a one fingered gesture before mocking him with your uninjured hand, during your mocking you didn't notice him growl close. When he did get close, he was close to your face. So you swung and watched his head jerk and then his eyes returning to yours, a shit eating grin on his face.

"You hit hard Princess, maybe you should aim right before you break your other hand too." "Oh fuck off!"

You yelled as he stood up and motioned you with him, "come on sevinadj'evengen," he said as he stepped out of the hut; leaving you alone. So you stood up and followed him out, you stuck close but your eyes scanning every face you saw before he lead you down the vines and towards a creek. You stepped into the water and followed him through the shallow water and listened to him babbled words. You felt a smile crossing your face before you watched him jump onto the bank, so you mimicked him. Hopping onto the opposite side and following him back to the spot the two of you had been, you don't know why you couldn't have just walked back. But it whatever to you really, you spotted the place and sped up to grab the knife. You grabbed the gifted knife and tucked it into the holder before turning to Neteyam, who was watching you with such soft eyes. You froze for a minute before picking up the spear you made and stabbing the sharpened part into the ground and leaning against it. You raised an eyebrow making him approach you, which did confuse you, so you stepped back. It only took a few steps before your back was being bitten by the tree. Neteyam, though only a head or two taller than you, loomed over you and his forearm pressed into the bark above you. He stared at you for a few seconds then whispered.

"You look really... really," your heartbeat faster before he finished, "stupid with that look Princess."

Laughter bubbled from his lips before you scoffed and held his face in your hand before pushing it away, his laughter made your body feel weird. You felt the air from his lips brush past your fingers and you let a soft laugh pass your lips, the sound was gentle and kind. You hadn't noticed Neteyam's laughter stop or his face move, you only noticed when your hand was gently pressed against the bark behind you that you looked up. You've never seen his eyes so serious, at least not towards you, and it caught you off guard. His face inched closer to you and your breath caught in your throat.

"Do that again Princess..."

Neteyam murmured out as his face moved closer, you could feel his breath dance over your skin. It smelled like peppermint and sap. His words confused you, so you simply tilted your head slightly, the action made him slightly tighten his grip on your wrist and his hand softly hover over your waist.

"Please," he begged, "I want to hear it again... It was pretty..."

His words made your lips twist up and your chest shake slightly before the laughter came out again. It was just as soft and kind as the first time, your eyes fluttered shut as you laughed. You let your body relax against the tree before your body relaxed against the harsh bark. Your laughter was short lived as Neteyam's hand rested against your waist as you felt Neteyam's head rest against your shoulder. It caught you off guard and your laughter quickly died out. You were confused until the hand on your waist wrapped around and his arm held you close to him. You could feel his lips on your shoulder, and you tensed up for a moment before pushing him off, you looked at him with a look of confusion before he pulled you close again.

"I want to hear that more... I want to hear you laugh and I want to hear you talk and say my name and... fuck your pretty Princess..."

His words scared you slightly, so you tensed up in his arms but... his eyes looked so genuine and kind it... it made you relax before you scoffed again. That cold attitude returning, and you grabbed his face in your hand before you rolled your eyes.

"Have I ever told you how annoying you are Neteyam? Like seriously?"

It was dark when you returned home, your newest mate attempt stood irritated at the door. You gave him a judgement look before setting down your newly made spear and grabbing a fruit from the basket you gathered the day before.

"You're home late," he commented with an edge of anger, "where were you?"

"Why the fuck do you care?"

You asked back, not in the mood for his games. You went to enter the room next when his hand grabbed your wrist, his grip was bruising, and it made you wipe around. Your eyes glaring daggers at him before fear struck you, his eyes had a predatory look as you fought back a whimper. You remembered that look, you'd seen it years ago. In those boys who were determined to break you, they'd failed. But you weren't so sure if this man would.

"I think. I need to break you of that shitty attitude."

He growled out as he shoved you to the ground, you landed on your front and grunted as you flipped over and scrabbled back reaching for your knife.

"You need understand. You're a woman. You are disposable and nothing. I will break you of that attitude."

He growled out as he pinned your arms above your head and forced himself between your legs, keeping you there. Your eyes were wild with fear as you struggled against him, you smashed your head forward into his. But it had no effect as he kept you there, you kept fighting, hoping to get away from the situation. Hoping to get away from him. Your mind kept screaming to fight and to escape. But... your just couldn't.

The next morning, your mind was scattered as you sat in your family's home. Brusing on your face with an ache in your legs as you hiccupped out small sobs, your body hurt like it hadn't in years. You hid in a blanket and watched the run slowly rise; you could hear that man... that beast sleep beside you. You glanced at the knife that had been thrown the previous night, dark circles under your eyes were so heavy they looked hideous on your face. The cut and bruise did you not justice either, you looked a wreck, and you were painfully aware of it. So, you did the logical thing. You grabbed it and loomed over him, your hands shaky as you stared down at him, you brought the knife above you, but it never lowered. You just couldn't do it, so you backed up and grabbed a satchel. You threw in what you could think of. Fruit, a change of clothes, your knife, and a blanket. Dressed in a warm cloak, you headed towards the door but hesitated. You walked into your bedroom with shaky steps and grabbed the old worn down plush your mother had given you when you were young and held it close to your chest and left. Your feet ached, and your legs even more so as you pulled yourself up the vines and fumbled towards Neteyam's home. You had been there so often, you knew the path well. You caught him leaving his home and fumbled towards him, he saw your clambering figure and met you a little over halfway. He caught you as you fell and held you close, his arms were so warm and comforting as he held you. His voice was gravely as he softly spoke.

"Hey, hey, what're you doing here? The sun's barely up Sweetheart..."

His gently voice, despite the sleep wornness of it, made you break down in a quiet sob as your knees gave up. He gently lowered you to the ground and rubbed comforting circles on your covered back.

"I-I'm sor-orry I-I did-idn't know where el-else to go!"

You forced out in your sob broken voice as he held you gently, not like that thing that hurt you. He didn't understand what was going on, or why you were here so early, but he did understand that you were hurting. So he gently picked you up and carried you inside. He settled you in his bed and sat beside you. His hand comfortingly on yours. You gently turned your hand over and gripped his tightly, the action caught him off guard but he gently held yours back. You quietly cried in his bed, you didn't notice his family start to wake up as you cried. You did hear the voice of a little girl who, even in her sleep state, sounded so concerned. Which made another broken sob leave your lips, his hand left yours momentarily to softly shush the girl and ask her something before his grip returned to yours. You held his hand so tightly once it returned you thought it would break, but he didn't flinch or move as he gently rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. He gave you a concerned, yet gentle, look as he watched you cry. He was at a loss, he didn't know what happened to you, but the bruise on your upper forearm angered him. He could feel the rage bubble up in his chest and pound against his mind, which was screaming to protect you and to fight for you. And god did he want to, but right now he wanted to stay with you and take care of you in the present moment. Right now, you were the most important thing to him. Right now, fixing your tears and calming you was the most important thing to him. To him. You were worth everything and he was damn set determined to take care of you in the now, and deal with what hurt you when you could talk about it. Which took a long time.

It was nearly two months later when you talked about it. The two of you were comfortably in the Hometree, sitting in the roots when you spoke up.

"Neteyam?" "Yes Princess?"

Your heart beat against your chest as your hand gingerly found his and gripped it, in the past two months you had been grabbing his hand anytime your anxiety spiked or you got scared. Which had been a lot. Anytime you thought you heard that monster's voice or saw his face, you panicked and forgot how to breathe, and when you did it would be sharp and short inhales and your vision would cloud and you couldn't seem to get air in. Every part of you that that thing had touched would burn and you could hear his voice and feel his touch you'd shake like it was happening again. your body would tingle and you'd lose feeling in it. Your stomach would twist into a knot and hurt like you had been punched in the gut, your head would pound and scream and your chest would ache like you were dying. You'd feel like throwing up as your skin would raise goosebumps but feel so fucking hot. You'd feel like your skin was all to hot to be in and you'd sweat, you wouldn't feel in control and like he had found you again and he'd hurt you like he did before. But Neteyam was always there to take care of you, to calm your mind and treat you like you were glass against him. It made your mind calm and heart slow when he'd softly rub your arms and talk to you so sweetly and softly it'd make your body relax and your vision clear.

"Do you..." you hesitated, "Do you remember the morning I came to you, crying?"

Neteyam was silent for a moment before he gripped your hand gently.

"Yeah?"

His voice was soft and kind, but had an angry undertone as he remembered those disgusting bruises on your skin and how exhausted you look. He turned his head and watched you with a soft look in his eyes, you looked so much happier. Parts of your hair were braided and had little beads and some small flowers in it, you had let it grow a bit. It wasn't much longer but it looked beautiful right now. At least to him it did, a bit untamed but you like it that way. So Neteyam did too.

"I... I was hurt... A ma... a bo... a mal... a per... a monster," you fumbled through your words before settling on one you thought best, "I was hurt in a way I don't think I'll ever actually heal from. It... it wasn't like a bruise or a cut or a stab or a verbal attack. It... It was physical. And it still hurts now, every time I see my reflection I feel... tainted I guess."

You said as you pulled your hand from his and your legs up to your chest, you held them close with your arms as you rocked yourself slightly.

"And he took something from me that I'll never get back, something that I can't take or steal back. Something that no one can give me back or return to me, something that I didn't want to give him. And it hurts that he took that from me, and I don't know how I can heal through it because I don't know if I even can heal from this 'yam and I don't know how to actually talk to someone about it without feeling like it's happening all over again. Kind of like a phantom pain, like when you hit a scar hard on a tree or a doorway, ya know?"

You asked, not even sure if he's even paying attention anymore. Your eyes slowly dazed out and your breathing got shallow before you took a deep, shaky, breath and continued.

"And I don't know what I'll do if he finds me again, because if I wasn't strong enough the first time what stopping from hurting me like tha-at again." you asked as your voice broke slightly, "because if I couldn't defend myself the first time how could I possibly protect myself this time..?"

You didn't notice his hands ball into tight fists before he gently moved and sat in front of you, he pulled you to his chest. Your legs hitting his as they easily divided for him, letting you fall against him as you whimpered out a quiet cry. His arms gently held you as he gently rubbed your back with his thumb before he whispered.

"Well if he does find you, I'll protect you this time... I'll keep him away and you safe. I'll never let him hurt you again, I swear you that Princess..."

His words were so sincere and gentle, despite the obvious angry tone, that you relaxed into him. Your arms falling to your side as you buried your face in the space between his shoulder and neck and let out a shaky breath. His angry undertones would've scared you at any other point, but you knew his anger wasn't directed at you. You knew where his anger was directed, so you felt safe with him. You whispered out words you never thought you would, not towards any man. Not even Neteyam.

"Neteyam?" "Yes Princess?" "I-I feel safe with you..."

He paused for a mment.

"Good Princess."

Your heart raced as you gently wrapped your arms around his waist, and held his softly as a comfortable silence settled between you two.

"Neteyam?" "Hm?" "I love you..."

"I..." he hesitated," I love you to Princess."

His words made a flurry of butterflies fill your stomach and your body fully relax against him, making your body and soul feel safe as he pressed a gentle kiss to your head and rested his chin on your head. His eyes fluttering shut as he gave you a gentle squeeze, knowing he'd always protect you and keep you safe against whatever you needed. He knew you could handle your own, but he also knew that you would rely on him a bit more now. You were his world, a gift from Enwa if you would, and that he was going to mate bond with you. Once you were ready of course, he'd never pressure you. Never.

@tumblingdevils @crazed-flower @christinechickiee @stefcatgirl @neteyamyawne @spriinglockedd

straight up trauma coping y'all- Sorry-

[catofthenine]

Gibbet Hill: Ham Stroker's New Publishing & Critique

Hey Ghouls! wake up new Bram Stoker!

I'm probably the last one to know, but a new short story by Bram Stoker has been uncovered from the archives! (Archival documents make me so happy)

SPOILERS BE AHEAD! If you have not gotten a chance to consume this piece of media, you can listen to it here. I couldn't find a written format, so this is the way I consumed it!

The audiobook I linked is really well done, although I would not pronounce 'gibbet' like that- maybe I'm just American, but it sounds too much like 'giblet'.

Shout out to Brian Cleary for discovering this 134 year old document! Almost as old as myself!

CW: I will be talking about racist and objectifying themes. I am also oversimplifying a lot of this because this is Tumblr, so feel free to add onto this!

ANYWAYS. Here's my review!

This story was decently entertaining, especially with the novelty on this new discovery! This ghost story was entertaining to listen to as I did my makeup this morning. The minor sexism at the end over the Wife was so over the top I found it amusing; "What should I do, husband!!". I enjoyed the plot a whole lot, I didn't find it too scary, but also I almost never find media scary. I also found like this magical-supernatural element really intriguing, and the snake part was cool (also sad).

Within I want to say the first third of the story, Stoker makes some racist comments. I believe he says something like "If these Indian girls were of European descent, they would be around 13, but because they are Indian, they are likely much younger." erm weirdo alert...?

This is seriously racist, objectifying, dehumanizing, among many other things. This is unfortunately very common in gothic literature- and none of these kinds of details are ever pertinent to the story! Like ever! I suppose that within a antique lens it's like a trope, comparatively Carmilla also had this similar thing.

You can make an argument that this is like, "of the time", and that this way of thinking is a product of the culture, but that's not the purpose of this post, maybe one day I'll do some kind of cool social-historical analysis, but not right now. For this post, I want to focus about how this effects the current day-- I'm not a historian!

How I consume gothic media with a critical lens:

Because a lot of our "classics" contain horrible stuff, it's incredibly important that we are anti-racist, call out the racism in gothic literature, and are open to stories that break barriers and stuff like that (I know that some stories regarding the harm of minorities are deemed "not scary enough" because we are so desensitized to this type of harm within western culture.) I'd say that we can be desensitized to harm against women as well, it is different however because that desensitization is inherently rooted to the objectification and sexualization of women. ESPECIALLY the sexualization of violence against women. But that's a little off topic for this post.

So, when we look at Ham Stroker's Gibbet Hill or any gothic media, we have to really like think of it in an oppositional way, and have that be an element besides our enjoyment. Or, I suppose, when we come across these uncomfortable plots we shouldn't be clutching our pearls at it- but we shouldn't also become desensitized to it.

I guess I don't actually care if you want to cross out/otherwise ignore the slurs or racist comments in books like Exquisite Corpse by Poppy Z. Brite, but to ignore like this major horrible thing is entirely against what we as a subculture stand for.

Music Reccomendation: Voodoo Voodoo by LaVern Baker

You can come at me and say this isn't goth music but I'd argue that it's the earliest predecessor! Voodoo Voodoo was published before Screamin' Jay Hawkins' I Put a Spell on You, which it seems everybody and their mom seems to claim was the first song with 'gothic lyricism'. I also feel that this style of music was the predecessor for many gothabilly/spooky rockabilly music of the 60s and 70s.

As always, Thanks for Reading!

-Cat (Catofthenine)

[sk1ttery]

So tell me about Wallflower Delancys 👀

CW for talk of abuse, neglect, food issues, homophobia/transphobia, sexism and general toxicity. Minor character death.

Note: My goal with the Delancey’s in this AU is to humanise them and allow them to have a redemption arc of sorts while not erasing or excusing their actions. They grow and mature but are still held accountable for how they acted.

Oscar and Morris may be assholes a lot of the time, but at the end of the day they’re also just two scard kids trying to get by. Two kids who care deeply for each other in a way that’s oddly similar to how the Hattan and Brooklyn Bunches care for each other. They’re brothers and although neither of them know how to express it, they do love each other dearly.

After their mother passed away when they were too young to really remember her, their father started to get angry. And he dumped them in foster care to run off with the military. They experienced a lot of abuse in the foster system at the hands of Snyder. They were taken out of Snyder’s care around the time Jack was brough IN, though they were with him for a couple months. They always sort of felt bitter towards Jack because he’d always kick up such a fuss. He’d often get dragged screaming out of rooms. Laying low was how they survived so they resented Jack for doing the opposite though they also felt sorry for him.

Their dad was discharged a couple years later, came back and took them in again. He ended up being horrendously abusive. He was brutal, a control freak and wouldn’t let them do a lot of things. He’s forced gender roles and toxic masculinity and sexism.

He’d force things like “Boy’s don’t cry.” “Women are baby machines.” “You can’t play with that, it’s a girls toy.” “Don’t hug your guy friends people will think you’re gay” and a lot of other shitty things.

They were forced to call him ‘Sir’. They weren’t allowed to call him dad or pa. If they ‘messed up’ they’d endure intense punishments, like not letting them eat (which resulted in Oscar having a lot of issues with food) shutting them in closets, beating them.

He’s blow up on them at the LITTLEST mistakes. So they’d hide at out at their Uncle Weisel's. But for too long he'll come looking for them.

In school they met a boy named Markus, who went by ‘Dirtmouth’. (An OC). They befriended him quickly, but he only fuled their anger and encouraged their lashing out. Which was the beginning of their toxic friendship and them bullying the Newsies.

I personally HC Morris as the older brother. He’s nineteen while Oscar is eighteen. And they’re stuck to each other like glue. Morris is fearcely protective of Oscar. From a young age he’d always put Oscar first and often forget or straight out refuse to take care of himself, much to Oscar’s distress.

Morris really struggles with school due to multiple learning disabilities and he was held back a year which ended him up in Oscar’s grade. (He was secretly a little relieved because this meant he could keep an eye on his brother easier). He has dyslexia, dyscalculia and dysgraphia, so numbers, writing and reading are pretty difficult and he often has to ask Oscar or their Uncle Weisel to help him with it. He’s also Autistic and has ADHD.

Oscar on the other hand is far brighter than he gets credit for. He’s geat at maths and excells in English, so he usually helps Morris out where he can. He’s also Autistic and ADHD and has an anxiety disorder. He’ll sometimes experience verbal shutdowns when upset or overwhelmed and because neither he or Morris know sign, they find it hard to communicate and it can often lead to frustration on both their parts.

Oscar’s the kind of person to get frustrated extremely easily then upset that he is frustrated.

Morris is more the kind to ‘punch the frustration out’.

After they ran away from home, (far later) they ended up getting an apartment together and get a little wobbly cat who they name Bean! Oscar saw a car dump him and took him home.

Oscar hates being touched without warning, but even with warning he’s iffy unless it’s someone he’s comfortable with. He’s easily spooked by loud noises and/or sudden movements, he’s extremely jumpy but usually tries to play it off.

Because of their upbringing and their dads views on the LGBTQ+, Oscar stayed in the closet for years which only added to his frustration and caused him to lash out more. He was terrified that if Morris found out, he’d hate him, but Morris was actually supportive.

Because Oscar is his brother and they only have each other. So they need to stick by each other no matter what.

After Dirtmouth ended up going to far with the bullying, Oscar and Morris sort of realised how messed up everything was. And Oscar was the first to back off. He’d had time to think and mature and he felt awful for everything that happened, so when he got the chance, he tried to apologise. Morris, a couple months later followed.

But I won’t spoil how THAT went.

I’ll say again. All of this is an explanation for how they acted. Not an excuse. I only want to humanise them.

Some little facts in an attempt to humanis them and make them NOT one dimensional bullies?

Morris is a dog person. But doesn’t mind cats.

He is not the best cook but he makes a mean lasagna.

He NEVER has his own clothes, they’re always stolen by Otto and Oscar.

He likes action and superhero movies and likes comics because they’re easier for him to read.

His hands are always covered in bandaids and he sometimes puts silly little kids ones on.

He’s scared shitless of moths.

His handwriting is so messy that it’s near impossible to read. Oscar struggles so much with any notes Morris leaves for him.

Oscar however, has really neat handwriting. It’s really pretty ??

He absolutely loves cats. He’s deadass such an animal lover. But he must pet every cat he meets.

He likes gaming with Morris.

He’s a good cook.

He’s secretly a theatre kid. He loves Oliver !

He’s rarely ever wearing his own clothes. He always steals from Morris.

He’s TERRIFIED of spiders.

[luneemeritus]

About Cinderella and the "perfect abuse survivor" concept (cw: trauma and human discussions)

It's no news that many modern feminists call Cinderella a weak person that couldn't escape her abuse and railed on a man to save her, and this vision is completely bullshit victim-blaming and sexism and blablabla (specially when she never railed on a man to save her, she felt in love with the prince without even knowing who he was).

However, as much as I defend Cinderella from this hipocrit victim-blaming point of view, I also can see a problematic aspect about her story.

Cinderella's arc is based on the fact that she remained kind and pure even after years of abuse and slavery. Ok, this is very beautiful and inspiring... in fiction. Because in fact, the ideal that abuse survivors should remain kind and pure is not only unrealistic, but also toxic. This is a vision that comes from people who didn't experience trauma (which is good, trauma is horrible, but without experience you can't know how it really is like).

No one is pure or too good enough, everyone has toxic behaviour and selfishness inside, no matter how kind you try to act. As an abuse survivor, the steriotype of "perfect abuse survivor who remains a kind, selfless and pure person" reflects a cruel hipocrisy from our society. Abuse survivors can and will commit mistakes, selfish, childish and impulsive actions, they will experience problematic feelings and will have difficulty in facing their trauma. I endure this every day, because i'm human lol 💀

That doesn't make them evil, crazy, "incel" or worthless. That doesn't make their trauma less important or their feelings less real. And even abusive people can recognize their mistakes and change for the better. The world is not black and white like most Disney films portray.

So yeah this is basically what I needed to say about Cinderella and its influence on society. Please don't expect abuse survivors to be pure selfless angels when we exactly the opposite: broken human beings. Think of Cinderella as a way of overcoming a trauma and trying to be a better person for yourself and others, rather than "if you fail your trauma doesn't matter/you deserve isolationg/you're as awful as your abuser".

[d-ecrescendo]

dead dove: do not eat

a private, selective side rp and writing blog for lute from hazbin hotel. semi canon-divergent and heavily headcanon-based; low-to-medium activity. puppeteered by símone (25, she / they). i will follow you back from @cardedsoul (my multimuse blog).

mains & affiliates

-> @lilitophidian

this blog contains mature and disturbing themes including but not limited to: whorephobia, misogyny / sexism, heavy gore, vulgar language, suggestive / sexual jokes, cannibalism, violence & murder, abuse in all its forms, and heavy religious & occult exploration / depictions. any triggering / distressing content will be tagged with "(trigger) cw".

i. you must be at least 18 years of age to follow, or interact with, me. this is to avoid any sort of issues that can arise with such topics and minors being involved. if i find out you are underage, i will block you. no negotiations. just stay out of adult spaces.

ii. mun =/= muse. i am not my muses nor are they me. my interpretations of my muses does not directly correlate with any of my personal ideals or morals. fantasy isn't reality, etc etc. do not godmod or powerplay; every action has an opposite and equal reaction, my muses will act accordingly to yours. don't involve me in any fandom / rpc drama either. i'm just here for a good time.

iii. i require a rules page be available to read in some capacity before i will even consider engaging with you. if i follow you, it means i've read your rules and am interested in roleplaying with you! that said, i am oc, duplicate, and multimuse friendly.

iv. i work full-time and can't always be readily available. as such, i offer my discord to mutuals for easier contact during my work week. i'm a moderately quick writer, but my writing tends to fluctuate based on motivation and time, so bear with me please! you can nudge me after about a week if i haven't replied to one of our threads!

v. the only really "blacklisted" topics i have are the obvious standard ones + untagged irl eye gore and trypophobia-inducing images. otherwise, i'm relatively solid about handling things. i don't follow nor reblog politics; this is an rp blog and not a political one for a reason. as far as nsfw is concerned, jokes and implications of sexual nature will occur here, but no actual smut writing will!

vi. i am in no way affiliated with vivziepop nor the creators of hazbin hotel. any art used for my icons or graphics is NOT mine unless stated otherwise. if you see your art used and you'd like me to remove it, let me know!

[heavenlyhatred]

dead dove: do not eat

a private, selective side rp and writing blog for adam from hazbin hotel. semi canon-divergent and heavily headcanon-based; low-to-medium activity. puppeteered by símone (25, she / they). i will follow you back from @cardedsoul (my multimuse blog).

this blog contains mature and disturbing themes including but not limited to: whorephobia, misogyny / sexism, heavy gore, vulgar language, suggestive / sexual jokes, cannibalism, violence & murder, abuse in all its forms, and heavy religious & occult exploration / depictions. any triggering / distressing content will be tagged with "(trigger) cw".

i. you must be at least 18 years of age to follow, or interact with, me. this is to avoid any sort of issues that can arise with such topics and minors being involved. if i find out you are underage, i will block you. no negotiations. just stay out of adult spaces.

ii. mun =/= muse. i am not my muses nor are they me. my interpretations of my muses does not directly correlate with any of my personal ideals or morals. fantasy isn't reality, etc etc. do not godmod or powerplay; every action has an opposite and equal reaction, my muses will act accordingly to yours. don't involve me in any fandom / rpc drama either. i'm just here for a good time.

iii. i require a rules page be available to read in some capacity before i will even consider engaging with you. if i follow you, it means i've read your rules and am interested in roleplaying with you! that said, i am oc, duplicate, and multimuse friendly.

iv. i work full-time and can't always be readily available. as such, i offer my discord to mutuals for easier contact during my work week. i'm a moderately quick writer, but my writing tends to fluctuate based on motivation and time, so bear with me please! you can nudge me after about a week if i haven't replied to one of our threads!

v. the only really "blacklisted" topics i have are the obvious standard ones + untagged irl eye gore and trypophobia-inducing images. otherwise, i'm relatively solid about handling things. i don't follow nor reblog politics; this is an rp blog and not a political one for a reason. as far as nsfw is concerned, jokes and implications of sexual nature will occur here, but no actual smut writing will!

vi. i am in no way affiliated with vivziepop nor the creators of hazbin hotel. any art used for my icons or graphics is NOT mine unless stated otherwise. if you see your art used and you'd like me to remove it, let me know!

[jimmyisawkward]

There was a whole debate about this last year in my district (the board wanted to enforce kids to get parental permission to join clubs, which specifically targeted safe space/GSA clubs and kids with parents who do not care enough about them to sign a piece of paper.) Luckily students, teachers, and parents came out en masse to protest and attend the board meeting, and we eventually got it shut down, although there was significant opposition to us. It also resulted in a student advisory board position to get more student input to the board, so hopefully this won’t happen again. Hopefully.

Here is one of the gems that we encountered: cw: heavy transphobia, sexism, etc. you have been warned. My trans friend sitting next to me was absolutely fuming by the end. https://youtu.be/hrpypw8zz7k

Too good to stay on twitter

[tommyssupercoolblog]

Videos from ex-mormons and wiki entries about mormonism under the cut. CW for sexism, homophobia, just general cult behavior and nastiness, etc etc

Mormon converts are urged to undergo lifestyle changes, repent of sins, and adopt sometimes atypical standards of conduct.[103] Practices common to Mormons include studying scriptures, praying daily, fasting regularly, attending Sunday worship services, participating in church programs and activities on weekdays, and refraining from work on Sundays when possible. The most important part of the church services is considered to be the Lord's Supper (commonly called sacrament), in which church members renew covenants made at baptism.[104] Mormons also emphasize standards they believe were taught by Jesus Christ, including personal honesty, integrity, obedience to the law, chastity outside marriage, and fidelity within marriage.[105]

Mormons adhere to the Word of Wisdom, a health law or code that is interpreted as prohibiting the consumption of tobacco, alcohol, coffee and tea,[114] while encouraging the use of herbs, grains, fruits, and a moderate consumption of meat.[115] The Word of Wisdom is also understood to forbid other harmful and addictive substances and practices, such as the use of illegal drugs and abuse of prescription drugs.[116] Mormons are encouraged to keep a year's supplies, including food and financial reserves.[117] Mormons also oppose behaviors such as viewing pornography and gambling.[105]

The concept of a united family that lives and progresses forever is at the core of Latter-day Saint doctrine, and Mormons place a high importance on family life.[118] Many Mormons hold weekly Family Home Evenings, in which an evening is set aside for family bonding, study, prayer, and other activities they consider to be wholesome. Latter-day Saint fathers who hold the priesthood typically name and bless their children shortly after birth to formally give the child a name. Mormon parents hope and pray that their children will gain testimonies of the "gospel"[vague] so they can grow up and marry in temples.[119]

Mormons have a strict law of chastity, requiring abstention from sexual relations outside opposite-sex marriage and strict fidelity within marriage. All sexual activity (heterosexual and homosexual) outside marriage is considered a grave sin, with marriage recognized as only between a man and a woman.[120] Same-sex marriages are not performed or supported by the LDS Church. Church members are encouraged to marry and have children, and Latter-day Saint families tend to be larger than average. Mormons are opposed to abortion, except in some exceptional circumstances, such as when pregnancy is the result of incest or rape or when the life or health of the mother is in serious jeopardy.[121] Many practicing adult Mormons wear religious undergarments that remind them of covenants and encourage them to dress modestly. Latter-day Saints are counseled not to partake in any form of media that is obscene or pornographic in any way, including media that depicts graphic representations of sex or violence. Tattoos and body piercings are generally discouraged.[122]

LGBT Mormons remain in good standing in the church if they abstain from homosexual relations and obey the law of chastity.[123] While there are no official numbers, LDS Family Services estimates that, on average, four or five members per LDS ward experience same-sex attraction.[124] Gary Watts, former president of Family Fellowship, estimates that only 10 percent of homosexuals stay in the church.[125] Many of these individuals have come forward through different support groups or websites discussing their homosexual attractions and concurrent church membership.[126][127][128]

someone called me mormon on my post about tattoos but to be honest i dont really know what mormons actually do i just know most americans dont like them. i could be mormon and i wouldnt even know it. life is full of surprises.

[silver-and-ivory]

Also, men do not naturally harm others any more than women and nonbinaries do.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

scum of the earth

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Naoya Zen'in x chubby fem reader ɞ

Part 1 ♥︎ Part 2 ♥︎ Part 3 ♥︎ Part 4 ♥︎ Part 5

❥ Word count: 6.6k

❥ CW: fatphobia, bullying, "dyke" used as an insult, misogyny, sexism, just Naoya being an asshole in general, smut, male masturbation, breeding kink, noncon/dubcon, multiple orgasms, no aftercare

❥ A/N: heyyyy sksksk, sooooo guess who finally finished this!! Took me long enough. ANYWAYS, i hope you enjoy this and yes, there will be a part 2 and 3 and they will be linked once they are complete :)

The two of you were, quite possibly, archnemeses.

That statement was not as exaggerated as a stranger may believe. Naoya had been a problem for you since the first day you became neighbors. The constant noise emitting from his apartment was likely to send you to an early grave: the TV, radio, his own stomping. That wasn’t even to mention the always changing women that came in and out of his life just to yell at him for infidelities that he claimed never were infidelities because he was never dating these women in the first place, which then led to an hour long cacophony of screaming and objects being broken in his apartment. He was, quite possibly, the worst neighbor that had ever existed. You’ve met cockroaches that made better companions than he did.

But that doesn’t even begin to cover the absolute scumbag that was Naoya Zen’in. Not only was he a shitty neighbor, but he was an even worse human being in general, always looking down on you whether it be for your weight or your gender. You’d heard him click his tongue in disgust far too many times as you passed him by the mailboxes, an unkind word about your size muttered under his breath. You once confronted him about it, turning back and politely asking he repeat himself.

“I said that dress wasn’t made for you. You should wear something more modest or lose a few pounds.” He had turned away from you, walking up the stairs without another word or even a glance in your direction. You were so stunned by his bluntness that you stared at the spot he was in for a full minute, mouth agape as you tried to process what just happened. You didn’t think he’d actually have the balls to say something like that to your face. You looked down at the sundress you wore, the flowy skirt stopping at your knees, the neckline barely giving a peek at your cleavage. You had scoffed, glaring in the direction he had been before turning on your heel and leaving the apartment complex, swearing to yourself that you’d never fall for a man so heinous and rude.

Knowing all this, it wasn’t a stretch to consider the arrogant man to be your enemy. You hated him so fiercely that you were certain you had received a few wrinkles due to creasing your brow so often because of him. He was trash, the worst of the worst, the scum of the Earth. Your shit was more valuable than him. You wanted nothing to do with him and avoided him at all costs.

But of course the universe loves doing the exact opposite of what you wish it would.

Naoya was an absolute menace, his actions somehow increasing in volume whenever you needed peace and quiet. You wondered if he had a sixth sense for these things, somehow knowing that you needed to wake up early and deciding that, in return, he would keep his television on full blast up until 3am. Regardless, you found yourself awake far later than you desired and you loathed him for it.

You tried being polite, honestly you did, gently asking him in the hall to please keep down the volume. He was never receptive, always sneering at you, always slamming cupboards and doors just as you were about to doze off. It was like living next door to a demon, one whose sole purpose was to ruin your life.

It was no wonder that one day you finally snapped.

It was a Tuesday evening—well, technically Wednesday morning at that point—when you decided you’d had enough. Naoya had been stomping around his apartment for three days straight, yelling at someone on the phone about God knows what. He would have a long shouting session before blasting rap music for a good hour or two, then transitioning to watching television until well past midnight. You had kindly asked him yesterday to please keep the volume down since you had to work early shifts the entire week. Either he didn’t hear you or he didn’t care because the noise was just as loud as it had been the last several nights, perhaps even louder.

Alright, you thought to yourself after glaring at the ceiling for an hour. If that’s how he’s going to be, then so be it. I’ll be the bitch he wants me to be.

You threw off the covers, not bothering to put on anything over your pajamas as you left your apartment, stalking towards his. You could hear boisterous laughter coming from the TV inside, making your scowl deepen before you started hitting his door. You banged your fist on his door continuously, not stopping until Naoya shouted, stompimg across the apartment before swinging the door open.

“What the hell is—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Don’t you fucking dare give me an attitude when you’re the one being a complete jackass. Turn your fucking television down or I’m gonna file a complaint first thing in the morning.” Naoya scoffed, returning your icy glare.

“You little—”

“Shut up,” you barked, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt and yanking him towards you, forcing him to come face to face with you. “If you do not turn your shit down, I will not hesitate to call the police and have them throw you out of this apartment building. You have kept me awake way too late for far too long.” You inched closer, your breath fanning over his shocked expression. “Don’t fuck with me.”

You released him with a shove, not caring about consequences as you trudged back to your room, sending him one more deadly glare before slamming your door shut. You double checked the locks before you marched into the living room, grabbing a pillow with shaky hands and shoving your face in the cushion, screaming as loud as you could. You could already hear the threats that he would hurl your way tomorrow, throwing out similar insults like “pig” and “dyke” while he warned you about how his dad was a very powerful man and could easily kick a worthless fat woman like you out on the street—

The TV was turned off. You paused, raising your head from the pillow as tears started to pool in your eyes, your gaze falling on the wall you shared with your chaotic neighbor. You waited, wondering if it was all a ruse, if he would turn on the television at full volume just as your head hit your pillow. Several minutes passed in almost silence: you could hear him walking around his apartment, but besides the standard sounds of doors closing and faucets running (and your heart pounding in your ears), you couldn’t hear another peep. It felt too good to be true as you went back to your bedroom and curled under your covers, tucking them under your chin as you snuggled up to your pillow. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you sunk down into the sheets, the adrenaline in your system dying off, sending you into the deepest slumber you’d had in weeks.

“Stupid fucking bitch.”

Naoya hated you, fervently, passionately, far too eagerly. You were just so easy to dislike, so easy to look down on and ridicule and despise. From your body to your independence, there was so much for him to pick out and criticize. It was almost like a game at this point, coming up with insults to see how angry you would get, to see if you would finally snap at him. A part of him longed for the moment you snarled at him, baring your teeth and claws, proving that you were just as awful as he assumed you were.

What he didn’t expect was for your eventual outburst to kindle something within him.

It didn’t make sense: here you were, a small, round, unintimidating thing that suddenly grew horns and fought back against the matador that kept poking it. He thought you’d be more like a kitten hissing up at a stranger, but instead you growled like a full-fledged lion. Seeing you practically fuming on his doorstep made something within him bubble and boil. He still couldn’t believe that you yelled at him, that your small hand grabbed his designer shirt so forcefully and pulled him towards the hideous scowl painting your pretty plump features—

And therein lied the problem. He realized that you were “pretty”, not conventionally like the usual women he surrounded himself with, but in your own unique way. From the puff of your cheeks to the swell of your ass, you were gorgeous in a way that he had never considered before, at least not consciously. But now, after you had unleashed your anger out on him, he was fully aware of his attraction for you.

And he hated it.

How dare you make him feel this way? How dare you make his cock stir at the thought of your skimpy little outfit that you wore that night, your shorts far too short to be acceptable, your nightshirt not covering the way your nipples hardened in the cool evening air? He couldn’t stop thinking about how the perky buds looked on your sizeable breasts, coarse and rough against what he could only imagine was the soft, warm expanse of the rest of your chest. He wished he had grabbed your wrist before you could run back to your room, pulling up your shirt, exposing your gorgeous tits, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucki—

No. No, this wasn’t normal, Naoya hated you, why was he thinking things like this? Why was his mind wandering to your plush frame late at night, his hands trailing over his form, cursing himself for thinking about a lowly creature such as yourself in that way?

He indulged himself the first night, jerking off to the memory of your plump body, hoping it would expel all thoughts and feelings about you by the next day. It had to have been a fluke: Naoya didn’t actually like you! No, he was just tired and horny and hadn’t fucked anyone in quite a while so it was only natural that he was feeling attraction for someone he clearly wasn’t interested in. Why would someone like him ever be interested in someone like you, someone so fat and plump, someone who must’ve been so soft under those clothes, fabric that could barely contain your voluptuous curves? He could practically imagine the stitching of your clothing straining against your form, threatening to break and reveal yourself to him—

He was doing it again, thinking about you at the most inopportune times. It wasn’t enough that he thought about you every time he went to the mailboxes downstairs, loitering as he shifted lazily through his mail, subconsciously hoping that you would arrive and walk up the stairs before him so he could get a peek at the temptatious peach of your ass. No, he also had to think about you in his free time as well, wondering what you were doing, who you were talking to, why you weren’t at his apartment instead, draped over several cushions, eating fruit and barely clad by a sheet.

These thoughts had been haunting him for weeks, leaving him to literally take matters into his own hands. He’d been jerking off far too often for his liking, but what else could he do? It’s not like a quick hookup could quell his desires. All of the female contacts in his phone were for slim women, swimsuit models and social media stars whose hip bones would poke into him and ruin the entire illusion of fucking you. No, they simply wouldn’t do. He would never be able to imagine you in their place, their bony features a stark contrast against your squishy frame. He could never imagine how soft and plump you were if he fucked one of them, couldn’t accurately imagine how his fingers would dig into the pulp of your waist as he held you in place, how your ass would bounce against his hips with each sharp thrust. Not even their moans could make his cock twitch the way yours probably would, their high pitched exaggerated sounds falling from injected lips that looked unnaturally large and unrealistic. No, he’d much rather hear the pretty gasps and whines you’d let out from your soft-looking mouth, rose petals pushed into a perfect pout as he denied your orgasm for the nth time that night, promising that he’d let you cum if you would let him fill you up the way he’s been dreaming for the last month—

There he was doing it again, thinking about you in the dead of night, cock throbbing without having even been touched. Naoya groaned gutturally, kicking off his sheets like an angry child, palming his hard cock through his boxers. What was this, the fourth night in a row that he’d been unable to fall asleep without jerking himself off thinking about you? It was pitiful, really, the fact that he couldn’t keep his mind off of you, your thick legs and plump waist and ample breasts—

“Stupid fucking bitch,” he repeated, hissing in a breath as he smeared his precum along the head of his cock, gingerly creating a ring around it with his forefinger and thumb, giving his dick a few quick jerks. “Can’t fucking believe… of all the pretentious cunts to wanna fuck…”

He bit his tongue, throwing his head back into the sheets and moaning softly. A shiver ran up from his tailbone to the base of his skull, making his limbs twitch before stretching out. Would you be able to cause that same response in him? Perhaps, if you dragged your nails along his back, marking up his perfect pale skin, laying claim to him as he did the same to your cunt. He usually hated when women left their mark on him, always scolding them afterwards, but he thinks he could make an exception if he was able to ruin your pussy for any other man.

“That’s it… just like that,” he mumbled under his breath, imagining your body sinking down on his cock, taking him in inch by inch. “Go on… show me how bad you want it.”

He started moving his hand more earnestly, stroking the entire length in a fluid motion, mimicking what he hoped your body would feel like. He reached down between his thighs, cupping his balls, moaning as he massaged them in his hands.

“Ya feel that, princess? Feel how full they are?” A low groan left him as he squeezed his shaft, visualizing how your cunt would clench around him in delight, eyes sparkling with desire and need. “Betcha want me to fill you up, huh? Is that what you want, Y/N? Does my little cock slut want me to fill up her pretty little cunt?”

He could practically hear the needy whine you’d give as a response. He huffed out a laugh, picking up speed again, licking his lips.

“There you go, that’s my girl. Ride daddy’s cock just like that and I’ll give you my cum. That’s what you want, right, Y/N? You want me to fill you up with my seed, don’t you? Fuck, I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant, you annoying little—shit!”

His hips started lifting off the bed, feet planted to allow him to thrust up into his hand. What he wouldn’t give for it to be you instead, for you to be bouncing on his cock and crying and moaning his name, begging for him to cum inside you and make you a mommy.

“C’mon, that’s it, I know you’re close you stupid whore. Squirt all over this dick so I can breed you like the bitch you—”

There was a pounding at Naoya’s front door, causing him to jump. He stayed still, furrowing his brow as he listened closely. He started stroking his cock again a minute later after not hearing anything, taking a deep breath so he would relax—and the person at his door knocked again. He snarled, glancing at the clock by the side of his bed, wondering who the hell could be at his door at almost midnight.

“Fuck off!” he shouted across the apartment, hoping whatever asshole was at his door would leave soon after. But of course they didn’t: of course they just started banging on his door with their whole fist repeatedly. Naoya groaned loudly, punching his bed before throwing his legs off of it, pulling up his boxers as he stomped to his door. He didn’t care if he was still hard: he hoped whatever pathetic asswipe that was here knew they had interrupted him at the worst possible time. The knocking was still going as he reached the entrance of his apartment, unlocking the door clumsily in the dark before practically pulling it off its hinges.

“What the fu—” He froze, all anger draining from his form as he came face to face with the nuisance that had interrupted him.

It was you, barely dressed in a cropped tank top and high waisted sleep shorts, the cotton material hugging your frame so deliciously that Naoya briefly worried he would drool. You crossed your arms, pushing up your breasts in the process, accentuating your already apparent cleavage. Naoya ignored your displeased look, letting his eyes trail over you, his cock twitching in its confines. Fuck. It was hard to remember why he hated you when you came to his door looking like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Nonetheless, he swallowed down his desire, saving face.

“What do you want?” he spat, leaning against the doorframe, scowling down at you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“You’re kidding, right? You know these walls aren’t as thick as you think they are. I could hear you moaning my name like a little bitch in heat from the other side.”

Ah. That was why he didn’t like you. If only you didn’t have such a nasty mouth on yourself, you’d probably be such a perfect little cocksleeve.

“You should be flattered,” he yawned, scratching the back of his head, acting as unbothered as possible. “I’m sure it’s rare for someone as handsome as me to show an interest in a fat bitch like yourself.” He could see your eyebrow twitch in the dim light of the hallway, and all it did was make him want to insult you more.

“Pretty bold words coming from the guy who was jerking off to the thought of me not even five minutes ago. Sounded to me like you were more than a little interested in this ‘fat bitch’.” Naoya’s smirk faltered slightly, but he kept his ground, if anything jutting his chest out to make himself look bigger.

“So what? You think because I was jerking off to you means that you’re anything more than a worthless pig?” Your lip trembled ever so slightly, his words cutting deeper than you were willing to admit. You swallowed your rage, stepping forward, your chest millimeters from his own. You wondered if he could feel your wrath emanating from your burning skin.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you wanna fuck your ‘worthless pig’ neighbor.” He whistled low, snickering as he shook his head.

“God, you’re insufferable—”

“I’m insufferable?! Me?” Your hands found safe haven on your hips, pinching in your waist ever so slightly, causing Naoya's eyes to flick there briefly. “Ever look in a mirror? Because you’re the one who’s insufferable here!”

“Oh please,” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, trying his best to ignore the throbbing between his legs. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh my God, you’re insane—”

“Now look who’s talking—”

“You,” you hissed, jabbing a finger in his chest, very similar to the way you had not too long ago, “are the most entitled, privileged, stuck up jerk I have ever met!”

“As if you’re any better, ‘Ms. Independent’, strutting around as if you’re somehow better than any man—”

“Oh, here we go. Another sexist rant from the misogynistic head honcho himself—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Naoya growled, grabbing your face forcefully, squeezing your cheeks together harshly. Your eyes widened, hands coming up to claw at his own, struggling to free yourself as he continued. “You’re nothing but a pathetic woman who wastes her time working when she should be married with kids by now. You could’ve made a wonderful wife, but no, you insist on fending for yourself just like every other stupid feminist in this goddamn country.”

“Naoya—”

“You think you’re sooo great, working and providing for yourself. You must be so proud, flaunting your achievements and curves, trying to prove yourself. Well it’s never going to work. Nobody is going to look at you and see you as anything more than a fat whore who’s wasted the prime of her life on a job when you should be waiting at home for a real man like me and spreading your legs whenever I please.”

His fingers dug further into your plump cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout and making you squeak in pain. You could feel tears begin to well from the ache, your fight leaving you as you gazed helplessly up at your captor, silently begging him to let go. Naoya blinked, feeling his heartbeat in his fingertips as he stared, suddenly forgetting why he was so mad at a poor little doe like you.

“You… you’re so annoying… and useless… why can’t you just… just…”

His grip loosened ever so slightly, his thumb slipping towards your mouth, running over your lips. Fuck¸ they really were as soft as they looked, like freshly picked tulips. He could suddenly hear how hard he was breathing, his eyes darting over your face as he pushed his thumb past your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You keened in surprise, your tongue instinctively moving to investigate the intruding digit, causing him to sigh in response. He pried your mouth open, staring at his thumb pressing down on your tongue, watching the pink muscle squirm against him as you struggled to speak. He suddenly imagined a similar scenario but with your eyes hooded and crossed, his cum threatening to spill from your mouth—

“God damn it.”

Naoya dove down towards you, smashing his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You squeaked, smacking at his torso instinctually, wriggling in his grasp.

No way, no fucking way. Your mind raced, hands scrambling for purchase, trying to grab onto him and pull him away. His mouth worked all the while, tongue curling around yours as he groaned into your mouth, impatient and hungry. His hands wandered too, fingertips slipping beneath your top and digging into your plush skin, making your thighs squeeze shut.

“Mmm—w-wait!” you hurried as you finally pulled yourself away from him. He clicked his tongue, leaning in to try and follow your lips, but you blocked him by holding up your hands. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Don’t play dumb.” Naoya’s hands traveled further, one moving farther up your tank top while the other moved down to palm at your ass. You squeaked in surprise, trying to arch yourself away from his hands but only succeeding in pushing your body up against his. “What do you think I'm doing?” You gasped when he squeezed your ass roughly, his fingers dipping beneath the frilly hem.

“I don’t know! Being a creep?! Trying to take advantage of me—”

“Oh, come on. You’re a big girl; you’re strong enough to push me away.” The hand under your shirt moved to your chest, squeezing your breast, forcing you to bite back a whine. “If you really hate what I’m doing, then by all means, push my hands off and run back to your apartment. But…” His voice lowered as he leaned in towards your ear, dragging his nose along your neck. “If you want me to continue, I’ll happily oblige. I’ve got plenty of experience pleasing women.”

You pressed your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back so you could stare at him incredulously. You couldn’t find the usual coldness behind his eyes, and there didn’t seem to be a hint of deception in his expression. Regardless, your walls were still up, your body rigid and stern despite the heat pooling between your legs. You shook your head lightly, unblinking, unwavering.

“You’re trying to trick me. You’re gonna play some sick joke where you make fun of me for thinking you’d ever be attracted to me—”

“Do you really think so low of me?” he asked with a tilt of his head. You stayed silent, your jaw set as the two of you stared each other down. Naoya eventually sighed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t just fuck anybody. I have standards. If I’m not interested in someone, I reject them.”

You weren’t convinced, not in the slightest, but his thumb had started circling your nipple and you were finding it hard to refuse his offer. It wasn’t that you necessarily wanted to fuck the man who had insulted you not even ten minutes ago and bullied you relentlessly for the entirety of your time living next to each other, but you were horny and couldn’t deny that he was conventionally attractive.

God, what are you thinking, Y/N?? This guy is an asshole, literal trash. You’d be better off going home and using your toys to get off.

And yet, as he pinched your nipple between his fingers and tugged oh so gently, you found your resolve breaking. You took a deep breath, splaying your hands out on his chest.

“Do you… do you have condoms?” Naoya’s hooded eyes bore into you, lips tilting at the edges.

“Course I do, princess. I’ve got plen—”

“Good,” you muttered, balling his shirt in your fists and pulling him into his apartment. “I’m not fucking you without protection.” You ignored the victorious smirk that grew on his face as he shut the door behind the two of you.

“Fine by me.”

Naoya grabbed your hand, leading you through his living room. Your eyes unfocused as you reached his bedroom, mind wandering.

Alright, here’s what you’ll do: you’ll have sex with him, you’ll make the most of it and cum, and once you’re done then you’ll leave and never do this ever again. This is only going to happen once. You’ll get yourself off and that’ll be the end of it. It was a solid enough plan, one that you weren’t too ashamed of indulging in. Everyone has urges: you might as well take advantage of the situation while you can.

“So,” Naoya started, turning to face you, “what do you—oof!”

You pushed him on the bed before he could say anything to make you regret your decision. He scoffed a moment after landing, propping himself up on his elbows. He prepared himself to scold you for acting so rashly, but he fell silent once he saw you pull your top over your head. He watched your tits bounce back into place, his cock throbbing at the sight.

“Don’t just stare,” you grumbled, pushing down your shorts. “Take your clothes off.” Naoya frowned, huffing as he slipped his shirt off.

“So pushy. Are you like this with everyone you have sex with or am I just special?”

“You talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out of your shorts and closer to the bed, trying not to stare at his surprisingly chiseled physique. You planted your hands on your hips, looking down at him expectantly. “Well? Condoms?”

“Top drawer,” he replied, nodding to his nightstand. You wasted no time opening the drawer, pulling out the box of Trojan Magnun XL condoms and snorting.

“Oh my god. You’re really confident in yourself, huh?”

“Excuse me?” You shook the box before taking out one of the foil packages.

“XL condoms? Please. You probably look like that Danny Devito meme—”

You flinched when his boxers landed on your arm. You scrunched your face in disgust, shaking off the material, turning to snap at him—

Your eyes landed on his hips, his cock standing at attention, much larger than you imagined. You always thought he was overcompensating for something by being a complete asshole—his dick had to have been the size of your thumb, what with him acting so pathetically rude every chance he got. Oh how wrong you were…

“What was that about being confident?” Your cheeks burned. You huffed, chucking the condom his way.

“Just hurry up and put it on.”

“Yes sir,” he said sarcastically, ripping the foil with his teeth, rolling the latex over his shaft. You watched as the condom slipped over his thick cock, wondering why his ego had to be as large as dick. He reached the base, smirking up at you. “There. Happy? Now, why don’t you get over here and ride my cock already?”

“You’re annoying,” you huffed as you approached the bed again, pushing against his shoulder urging him to move.

“Right back at you,” he mumbled, scooting back on his bed, hands finding your thighs and squeezing. “At least you’ve got a nice ass.”

“Stop talking,” you sighed, bringing your hips down to meet his, grinding your pussy against the length of his cock. You bit back a moan as Naoya hissed, pawing at your hips to move them forward, helping you coat your slick along his shaft.

“Shit, you’re so wet already. Don’t need to prep you at all, huh?”

“I said shut up.” You hated to admit it, but you were ridiculously wet already. You blamed it on the fact that you had started leaking the moment you heard him moan your name on the other side of your wall. It wasn’t because of him per say; it was just a natural reaction to someone being sexually attracted to you.

The head of his cock bumped against your clit, causing you to let out a soft moan. You repeated the action, shutting your eyes as you focused on the pleasure building from hitting that sweet bundle of nerves over and over. Naoya squeezed your ass as you kept grinding you hips, eyes darting from your face to your breasts to your bountiful hips, hips that he couldn’t hold entirely. Just the sight of your plump flesh spilling over his fingers made his cock twitch, aching to fill you up.

“Hurry up already,” he breathed, pushing his hips up to meet yours. “I don’t have all day.”

“Fuck off,” you groaned, lifting your hips and grabbing his cock. He bit his cheek at your touch, swallowing a moan as you lined the head up to your entrance, bringing your hands back to his chest as you began to sink down onto his cock.

“Shit,” he cursed softly, eyes stuck on the sight of your fat cunt engulfing him inch by inch. How did you feel so soft? It didn’t make sense how gentle and plush your pussy felt around him, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining, especially not when your hips finally met and you let out the cutest whine. He smirked, thumbs rubbing circles into your love handles.

“Feeling okay, princess? I know it’s a lot—shit!”

You didn’t let him finish his teasing: you lifted your hips, slamming them back down to his and beginning a fast pace. You wanted to get this over with; the sooner the two of you came, the sooner you could leave and pretend like this never happened.

“Holy fuck, Y/N… didn’t know you—shit—wanted this so bad—”

You shushed him, eyes squeezing tight as you focused on bouncing on his cock. You targeted the soft, spongey mass inside you that you knew far too well, making sure the head of his cock bumped against your g-spot with each thrust, making you keen.

You hated how good it felt, but Naoya wasn’t faring much better. You were going faster than he expected, and he was surprisingly turned on by you taking the lead. Usually he liked his women submissive and docile in bed, but there was something exhilarating about you pushing him down and taking what you wanted from him. It made him want to break you down even more.

“Fuck, baby. You’re squeezing me so tight. Do you like my cock that much? Huh?”

“I told you to—ah—shut up.” He scoffed, licking over his lips.

“Figures that a brat like you has such a sweet little cunt on her. If only your wet, tight pussy could make up for that disgusting mouth—mm!”

You grabbed the nape of his neck, pushing him up and into your chest, effectively silencing him. Naoya moaned between your breasts, moving his hand up to squeeze one of them, his mouth moving to the other. His mouth found your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud. You struggled to hold back a moan. You hated how good his mouth felt, but it was much better than hearing his dirty talk and feeling yourself clench around him with each word.

A particularly harsh suck and pull of your nipples shot a wave of pleasure straight to your cunt, urging you closer to your orgasm. You slipped a hand between your legs, pushing apart your lips to rub at your clit, a whine slipping out of you as you felt your climax draw nearer. Naoya noticed the change in your demeanor, eyes darting up to watch your face scrunch in pleasure. He’d never been overly fond of women’s “O” faces—he could honestly take them or leave them depending on how they looked—but he had to admit that you looked adorable as you got closer to your peak. Your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes squeezed shut, cheeks puffed up as you struggled not to moan. If you were anyone else, he would’ve openly found your expression absolutely precious.

You gasped at a particularly deep thrust, head thrown back, eyes fluttering open to stare at the ceiling. You could feel the pressure in your cunt building, your pleasure growing more and more. You could tell your orgasm wouldn’t be anything overwhelming—perhaps you would’ve felt something more if your partner wasn’t a complete dirtbag—but it was better than nothing. An orgasm was an orgasm; at least you were going to cum.

You briefly wondered if Naoya ever bothered to satisfy his previous partners before you gently tumbled over the edge, your body shuddering slightly as you came. You were right: it wasn’t anything spectacular, but it felt good nonetheless and you could feel how sensitive your cunt was after—

You gasped as Naoya thrust up into you hard, your body almost thrown off of him if it wasn’t for the hand that found the back of your neck, holding you tightly in place as he planted his feet and started fucking you in earnest. You choked on a moan, hands scrambling for purchase, finding a spot on either side of his head and curling into the sheets.

“N-Naoya, wait—” He shushed you gently, smoothly a hand over your ass before giving it a rough squeeze.

“You had your fun. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?” His pace increased, his hips moving much faster than yours had just a moment ago. His thrusts were making your head spin, your mushy cunt still too sensitive to handle the sudden barrage of attention.

“Fuck, wait, ‘s too m-much, hah!”

“It’s t-too m-m-much,” he mocked in a high pitched tone. He pulled away his hand and landed it hard on your ass, making you jolt and clench down on him, causing him to groan. “Quit whining. I let you cum, now it’s my turn.” He smacked your ass again, his cock railing into your sweet spot over and over, causing that same pressure you just felt to build again, only much faster.

“W-Wait, Naoya, n-no—”

“Can’t believe you’ve got such a tight fucking cunt. Not fucking fair. Why’s a bitch like you gotta feel so fucking good?” He slowed momentarily, readjusting before thrusting again, going much faster than before. You couldn’t hold back your moans anymore. You hated how good it felt as he fucked you; you hated how thick his cock was and how it filled you so well and hit just the right spots and how his pace made your head spin.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he hissed, removing his hand from your hip, hurriedly bringing it between your legs so he could quickly rub your clit. “Hurry up and cum for me again, princess. Wanna feel that tight little pussy cream on my cock one more time before I fill you up.”

You were overwhelmed beyond belief. Your cunt was spasming out of control, your heart pounding in your ears as you struggled to breathe. You just needed a break, just a small break to compose yourself so you wouldn’t—

It was too late. You were already cumming on his cock, letting out a strangled mix of a moan and a wail. Your hips twitched pathetically, trying to meet his as you rode out your high. Naoya groaned at the sensation, both hands holding onto your hips for dear life as he continued to thrust up into you.

“Fuck! Yes yes yes, oh fuck yes!”

A few pumps later and he was cumming with a deep moan, pushing his hips flush against yours, spilling his seed into his condom. He gritted his teeth, thrusting shallowly a couple more times before pressing his hips to yours, lowering both of you down to the bed. The two of you were panting, struggling to catch your breath as you lay on top of him, eyebrows furrowed as you stared away from him, eyes searching for an answer that clearly wasn’t there. You gave yourself a minute to compose yourself, soon pushing yourself up into a seated position.

“You okay?” Naoya asked, a tinge of sincerity behind his usual snarky façade. “I’m sure that was a lot for you—”

You lifted your hips off of him without a word, swinging your legs off of his hips and scooting to the edge of the bed. You wobbled slightly as you stood, eyebrows still scrunched together in thought as you retrieved your clothes.

“Hey, where are you going?” Naoya asked breathily, propping himself on his elbows as he watched you start to get dressed. “You don’t have to leave yet. I could put on a movie or—hey!” You walked out of his bedroom, ignoring his shouting behind you as you hurried to the front of his apartment. “At least lock the door before you le—”

The front door was opened and shut before he could finish, leaving him alone in his room, cock still steaming and wet. He cursed under his breath, sitting up and removing the messy condom. He tied off the end, tossing it in the nearby wastebin before grabbing some tissues, cleaning himself up.

“Stupid bitch,” he grumbled under his breath as he wiped up his cum and your slick. “No wonder she’s fucking single: can’t even stay around after sex.”

He didn’t know why he was so pissed off at you for leaving right after. He blamed it on the principle of the thing, how it would be rude for anybody to leave a sex partner right after they came. It wasn’t because he actually enjoyed having you on top of him or feeling your soft weight against him, and it definitely wasn’t because he was expecting you to cuddle up to him, pressing your chubby cheek against his chest and sweetly asking if you could sleep over.

No… it definitely wasn’t that.

[ice-fire-or-clear]

Further on the Edge, II.

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x f!Reader (callsign Siren)

part 1 | masterlist | part 3

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Here’s part two!! I hope it was worth the wait! It’s quite a bit longer this time and has way more action, so I hope that’s fun and exciting. I’m definitely not great at scripting plane stuff so that stuff might make sense but probably not. Also, thank you for every single like, reblog, tag, and comment on the first part!! I don’t wanna reply with my main just yet but thank you so so so much! Enjoy :)

CW: Slight sexism, fighting (planes and otherwise), Slider being relegated to background character :(, Ice Being A Dick But Unfortunately He's Usually Right, language, lots of language

In. Hold. Out.

Repeat.

Closing your eyes, you walked yourself through your usual preflight mantra, focusing all of the energy in your body to settle in the pit of your stomach. Ironically, you always took the time to ground yourself before a flight, aiming to leave any distractions or annoyances on the tarmac below.

Unfortunately, your biggest annoyance was climbing into the plane opposite you.

Today had already been off to a rough start. You had fumbled your answer to one of Viper’s rapid-fire questions during the lecture earlier, and things went from bad to worse when they split the class off into pairs for dogfighting after the break. You had been named the team leader of your pair, with Ice assigned as your wingman. You had to suppress to a groan when you read the lineup. The other pilots could be annoying, certainly, but they were nothing compared to flying with someone who was so certain that they were right about every move, no matter what anyone else said. Though, you had to admit, he usually was…

Settling down into your seat, you couldn’t help but be stricken with a weird sense of deja vu as you recalled the first time you and Iceman actually flew together. Weeks later, you could almost huff out a laugh at the memory.

—

After the disaster at The O, you woke up for the first day of the program with a mix of apprehension and doubt. After a cold shower to wash away any remnants of the last night’s beers, you slowly and methodically dressed in your service khakis, careful to fix the bun at the nape of your neck perfectly in place. Satisfied your uniform was perfect, and therefore able to escape detection and an embarrassing callout, you made your way to the building where the classroom sessions would be held.

By some random stroke of luck, you had managed to avoid an awkward confrontation with Iceman for the duration of the lecture. By sitting close to the front and arriving early enough to avoid walking into a room full of your fellow pilots, you avoided any actual conversation efforts. Instead, you let them aim their questioning and skeptical stares at the back of your head, unbothered and accustomed to their curiosity. However, as the seconds on the clock ticked by, you began tapping your fingers on your thigh. You had heard his deep voice all the way from the back throughout the lesson and knew it was only a matter of time until something happened. Ice would eventually realize that the “enamored” (gag) girl from the night before was the same studious, determined woman in the second row.

And unfortunately, when it came time for your first set of afternoon fieldwork, your number was up.

“…and finally, Iceman and Slider with Siren and Hipcheck.” Jester finished.

You stood stock still in the hangar, pressing your lips together to hold back a curse. Fuck.

Just ahead of you, you watched Ice’s head turn, gaze landing first on your RIO, standing sturdy next to you, and then shifting down to you. Refusing to back down, you frowned at him when he caught your eye. Something unfamiliar flickered across his face; surprise, certainly, but something else as well. Regret, maybe?

Whatever. You crossed your arms over your chest, tuning back in for the drill parameters. The exercise, and the pilots, were nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

Up in the air, Ice took the lead while you trailed behind him at a healthy distance. You and Hipcheck followed his directions with little comment, doing your best to both keep Jester at bay and make an opening for a clean shot. Your commanding officer was a far more than worthy opponent, more than you anticipated.

You found yourself banking left, on path to intercept Jester as he zipped across the sky roughly perpendicular to your jet. Ice wasn’t far behind, but couldn’t keep Jester in his sights. The older pilot kept diving and weaving just out of reach.

“Iceman, I’m on his three o’clock, on target to intercept. If I get tone, I’m taking it,” you warned.

“Negative, Siren. He’s counting on it. Change path to intercept from 5 o’clock, and cover me while I bring him around.”

“What? No. You’re not chasing him, he’s baiting you! I’ll have him in a few seconds.”

“Negative, Siren! Fall back and cover me! You’re the one who’s bait here.”

You scowled at Iceman and his stubbornness, focusing on Jester, now practically at twelve o’clock. “How are things looking back there, Hipcheck?”

“Almost got him, Si! Oh shit, there we are! I’ve got missile lock on him, whenever you’re ready.”

You couldn’t help a small smirk as you readied your finger on the button. Iceman wasn’t the only one who knew how to win a dogfight. You honed your eyes on Jester, anticipating every movement almost before it happened. Just as you were about to call the shot, you heard Slider yell, “Oh, shit! He’s coming around!”

With horror, you watched as Jester rolled hard right, now coming at you head on. You gripped the joystick with both hands as you swerved to your right, trying to shake him. Before you could even check your sights, it was over. That sickening, high-pitched drone filled the cockpit as you dropped your head for just a second, swearing in defeat.

“Goddammit!” Ice’s voice crackled over the comms. Anger at your insubordination shattered his cool, collected demeanor, a rare sight. You weren’t exactly looking forward to your reunion on the tarmac.

—

“Si? They’re waiting for our signal.” Hipcheck’s voice snapped you out of your flashback. You had been flying with him in the backseat for several months now, ever since you had been transferred into your new permanent squadron in the Pacific fleet. Hipcheck, callsign earned from his hockey-esque stature, was several years older than you and had dozens more missions logged. He was one of the few bearable Naval aviators you had had the pleasure of flying with, quickly taking you under his wing (haha) and helping you find your bearings in an intimidating environment. You considered him a friend at this point, even getting to meet his wife and their two children a couple times on shore leave. He was friendly and well-liked by most of the other pilots, making it a little easier for you gain acceptance into the group.

Clearing your throat as you acknowledged his warning, you honed your focus on the drill as you taxied toward the runway. You were slightly embarrassed that you had let your musings on Ice cause you to zone out during all the pre-flight checks. Better not let that happen again, you thought, involuntarily glancing behind you to see him following you over the airstrip.

Up in the air, you hovered almost parallel to each other while you scanned the horizon for any sight of Jester.

“We really need to fly in unison this time,” you frowned at Ice through the canopy.

You could hear his eyes roll over the comms.

“Once you learn how to follow the lead, that won’t be an issue.”

“Follow whose lead?” You were grateful your mask hid your smirk. You knew it had to be killing Iceman, you being named leader.

“Whatever.” A pause. “What’s the picture looking like, Slider?”

“All clean up ahead.”

“Same here.” Hipcheck.

Things had been still for way too long, you thought. You twisted in your seat, craning your neck in both directions to see behind you.

“What the hell… where is he?” you murmured.

Not even three seconds later, Iceman’s voice burst through the commons. “Tally two, 11 o’clock! Over the mountains!”

Tally two?! Who the hell else was up here?

“Viper,” Hipcheck spat, making the word sound like a curse.

“Okay, fuck.” You clenched your jaw, trying to think. “Okay, Ice, we need to split them. I’m gonna come around from the left, and you cover me at 7 o’clock low.”

“Copy.” If he had any objections, he kept quiet.

Less than a minute away from intercept now. “I’ve got Viper!” You yelled. “Roll left and pull up when I say!”

You didn’t take your eyes off of the leading plane, waiting until you were nearly below it.

“Now!”

Like two halves of the same shell, you and Iceman split off away from each other, twisting up as you went. From the ground, your planes would have looked like exact mirror images of each other, each move neatly reciprocated by the other.

Ice shot up right on Jester’s nose, causing the instructor to roll hard to his own left to narrowly avoid a collision. You came up just off Viper’s right wing, startling him. He shot ahead, banking right and hoping to shake you.

Somewhere in the back of your head, there was a sense of pride for being able to unsettle the two more experienced targets.

“Hipcheck, what’s going on back there?” You asked, unwilling to take your eyes off Viper.

“Ice and Slider have him heading clear away from us, about 8 o’clock. Looks like Viper’s trying to bring us back around so he can cover Jester, though.”

You swore, twisting around to see that Viper’s constant turn was indeed clearly on path to intercept Iceman.

“Okay, okay. Ice, we’re coming back around to cover you.”

Dimly, you were aware of your stomach rolling as you pulled the jet into a harsh 270 degree turn. Nothing you hadn’t gotten used to over the years, though. Neither was the zig-zagging, tumultuous path you took to prevent Viper from getting missile lock as you raced to defend Iceman.

“I’m right on him, but I can’t get clean shot against the terrain,” Ice said, sounding slightly frustrated over the comms.

“Siren, looks like Viper’s breaking off to your nine o’clock,” Slider called, crackling to life in your ear.

“Copy. Moving to defend from 6 o’clock. I got eyes on him now.”

“There’s a break in the canyon up ahead, Iceman. If you can push him through there, it looks like a clean shot.”

“Copy, Hipcheck. Increasing speed.”

Seconds later, Jester shot through the opening of the canyon, Iceman right on his tail. Jester kept close to the ground, probably banking on the fact that the terrain would still prevent Slider from getting a lock. Meanwhile, Ice soared straight up, pulling back just slightly to keep Jester in his sights. Meanwhile, you maintained altitude, hovering above Ice on his 6 andkeeping an eye on Viper. The older pilot was maintaining his position, just off your 10 o’clock at a healthy distance. Why wasn’t he moving in to defend his wingman?

“I’ve got tone!” Slider yelled.

“Firing!” came Ice’s reply.

“Yes! That’s a kill!”

“Hell yeah!” Hipcheck cheered from behind you.

“Good work, Ice.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Now let’s finish Viper.”

You changed your course to put him dead in your sights, picking up speed. Iceman increased his altitude as well, hovering above at 5 o’clock.

It wasn’t long before Hipcheck was telling you that you were almost lined up from a clear shot. Perfect.

“Iceman, Hipcheck says we’ve almost got lock. I’m gonna drop down and increase speed.”

“That’s not a good idea, Siren. He’s not an idiot; he’s knows that you’ve almost got the shot. We should pull back and maintain position, wait and see what he’s gonna do.”

Irritation flared up in you. Typical Ice, content to wait for the perfect opening, never willing to pull something off the cuff. (You ignored the little voice in your head reasoning that maybe that kind of behavior was why he and Slider were currently sitting at the top of the rankings.)

“Negative, Iceman. He’s right there! I’m dropping down and taking it!”

“That is exactly what he wants you to do, Siren! Hold your position!”

Fuck him, thinking he’s the only one who knows how to fight, you thought, tightening your jaw.

“That’s not your call, Ice. You’re not the one in charge here,” you growled, pushing the plane into a steep dive. Right on Viper’s tail, just like you planned.

In the split second you dreamt about how nice it would be to finally say “I told you so” to Kazansky’s dumbass, smug face, the world flipped over around you.

Or, that’s what it felt like as Viper pulled a page out of Maverick and Goose’s book and hit the brakes, pulling his plane to a near stop in midair.

You futilely tried to copy the same maneuver, jerking around in your seat to see where the fuck he had gone.

“Siren, he’s right on our six! We need to get out of here and do something!” Hipcheck yelled from behind you.

“Shit!” you swore, pulling up in a desperate attempt to get out of range of Viper’s missiles. “Ice, can you cover me?!”

“Not anymore!” he snapped. “He’s at our 9 o’clock, we can’t get around him now.”

“Looks like he’s got you guys, Siren,” Slider said, sounding less annoyed and more sympathetic.

“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but mutter, defeated as the missile tone filled the canopy.

Another crackle from the comms. “Hell yeah! Splash two!”

Of course Viper’s move to take you out would leave Iceman lined up perfectly for the kill.

“Don’t worry about them, Si,” Hipcheck said, not unkindly. “We put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, and now Ice is gonna get points for both Jester and Viper,” you frowned, trying not to sound as childish as you felt. You changed course back to base with a little more force than necessary, blocking out Iceman and Slider’s gleeful chatter over the comms.

-

In. Hold. Out.

Repeat.

During the flight home, you had almost worked yourself out of your rage. Of course, all that shit went out the window, as tends to happen whenever Iceman is involved.

You lasted all of maybe ten seconds on the airstrip until you saw his smug face climbing out of the jet in front of you. You were stomping across the tarmac before you could even think straight.

“Si, why don’t we take a second and think about this,” Hipcheck said, not unkindly, trying to subtly hold you back. You ignored him, shook him off, and kept moving.

“What the fuck, Kazansky?!”

Iceman, helmet in his hands, spun around at the sound of your voice. There was no mistaking the surprise on his face, whether at the volume of your tone or the use of his last name. Nonetheless, he recovered quickly, setting his features into that trademark smirk. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

You took the last few steps forward, shoving at his chest with both hands. He barely tilted back, the fucker.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I had Viper! Had him! Until you slowed me down and tried to get in my head!” You paused for a second, a bit out of breath. “Was Jester not enough for you? You had to steal my shot too? Are you that narcissistic that all you can think about is your name on that plaque?”

The blond man glared down at you, setting his jaw. “I don’t need to ‘get in your head’ to outfly you, Siren. You do that all on your own. You show up to every exercise, every lecture, every goddamn gym session like you have something to prove! That’s why you lost the kill. Not because I stole it, but because you’re too proud to defer to anyone else, even when they’re trying to help you!”

“Help me? Fucking help me?! This all goes back to you and your ego, and your obsessive need to be in control of everything! You’re flying with the best of the best, and you think you’re the only one has any fucking clue of what’s going on!”

“You know what, I might have an ego, but I’ve earned it! You act like you’re too good to talk to any of the rest of us, like all that matters is knowing every goddamn maneuver and instrument down to the last detail. Well, like you just learned, none of that shit is gonna save your ass in a dogfight! If you don’t trust your team enough up there to listen to your wingman, you’re dead! You’re fucking dead! You need to stop carrying such a chip on your shoulder about being a woman and accept that you can’t win by shutting everyone else out!” Ice had leaned into your face by the end of his rant, his voice still ringing in your ears. Slider wrapped his hand around Iceman’s upper bicep, pulling him back slightly.

You were ashamed of the heat rushing to your cheeks and spooling painfully in your throat. “That’s not what this is about! And so what if it was?! I have to work twice as hard to get half as far as you, and fuck you if you can’t see that!”

“Lieutenants!” Viper’s voice, though not loud, sliced through the tension like a knife. “That will be enough of that.”

You looked away from Ice, painfully embarrassed to have lost your cool in front of your commanding officer.

“You’re both done flying for the day. Now go ahead and do push-ups until Jester gets tired.”

—

Somewhere between two and three hundred, you lost count of how many push-ups you had done, the fatigue in your arms quickly fading into numbness. You dutifully kept your eyes on the ground for each one, ignoring Ice’s strained breaths next to you.

You couldn’t help but feel like you had lost a much larger battle today than the one with Viper. It bothered you how easily Iceman saw through your unaffected persona, poking at the anger underneath and drawing it out for everyone to see. You felt as if he had sent you tumbling backwards, slicing through all the work you had to cover up your flaws and exposing the root of your real problem. Somehow, he seemed to understand you better than anyone else, but all that did was drive you further apart.

Fuck him, you thought. Let him think whatever he wants, see whatever he wants to see. He would not stop you from reading your name on that plaque. And after graduation, you were gonna make sure that he would never stop hearing your name in conjunction with phrases such as “best of the best of the best” and “top Naval aviators” and maybe one day, “Admiral.”

But, first you had to make sure he knew you could do more push-ups than him.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’m excited to get to part three!

part 1 | masterlist | part 3

[urfavstargirl1]

Show Me What You've Got - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part 3 to the series Chemistry, Part 2

stranger things masterlist | Spotify playlist link

summary: It's Y/N and Eddie's last night working on their assignment. After a bad day at school, the two end up studying at Eddie's place. By the end of the night, the two finish their assignment, guitar playing from Y/N and Eddie ensue, heart's are opened, and Y/N's gives Eddie a surprise goodbye.

cw: yearning, angst, fluff, era-appropriate racism/sexism (optional latina!reader insert w/ minor references), hurt/comfort, shy/nerdy!reader, pre-ST4, cocky!Eddie, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, swearing

a/n: theres many so here goes:

1. This was meant to be a filler chapter but ended up being the longest one I've ever written lmao so buckle up because a lot happens 2. I realize it's highly improbable a student like Eddie and a straight A student like Y/N would be in the same class or in a chemistry class for their senior year, but for the sake of this story, let’s ~pretend~. 3. Also for any of my astrology baddies, I'm big time convinced Eddie has a pisces placement. I’m thinking maybe sagittarius sun pisces moon and Y/N is very much influenced by me and my virgo moon so i feel like this chapter (this whole series) really exemplifies that opposition/synastry lol. 4. get ready for hella yearning, teasing, flirting, hurt, comfort, and just all the cuteness

On the way home from Y/N’s house, Eddie’s mind and heart are racing. Instead of focusing on the road before him, his mind wanders to the nervous look on Y/N’s face or the adorable quiver in her lip.

When he gets to the trailer, the lights are off and his uncle’s car is nowhere to be seen. He unlocks the door and enters the dark space. He flicks on the light and trudges to his room where he flops on the bed and looks up at the ceiling fan. 

He folds his hands behind his head and sighs. “Goddamn it Y/N, what are you doing to me,” he wonders aloud. 

He turns over to his bedside table and rummages through the drawer. He pulls out one of his premade joints and a lighter. He props himself up on his elbows and lights it. He takes a puff and draws a long inhale. He exhales a cloud of smoke and a tension in his shoulders dissipates. His heart, however, is still pounding loudly in his chest from the moment that just transpired: he had asked Y/N, sweet, innocent, beautiful Y/N, if she’d ever had sex before.

 Why did he even ask her that? Well, in the moment, it felt like the right thing to say, but now, he worries he might’ve taken things too far.

It’s not like it’s his responsibility to help her explore something as personal as her sensuality, but she just looked so lost and confused. Like she was completely in the dark and the only person who had ever shone a light on the subject was him. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if sex was another thing on the list of forbidden fruits her parents ordained on her, but he at least expected her to have some sort of girlish curiosity about it, not just avoid the subject completely.

Regardless, it was obvious she had never had sex before, but despite the fact that she was clearly embarrassed about it, she never denied it. He knows for a fact that anybody else would have and made up some story to pretend like they had, but she didn’t and that was refreshing to him.

By the end of the night, he comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t regret what happened, but he knows that he needs to be careful. He doesn’t want Y/N to think he’s more of a freak than he already is. They’ve only known each other for a matter of days and he’s already managed to screw things up: that’s a record. 

In a way, he’s grateful they won’t meet up tomorrow. The afforded time and space might grant him a shred of dignity back. And yet, he feels like it’ll be too long. As he takes another puff of his joint, he begins to count down the far too many hours before he’ll see her again. 

—- 

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with very little recollection of the night before.

Like any other life altering moment, it kept her up into the night just replaying it, thinking about it, and overthinking about it.

But in the morning, she’s not fully awake enough to remember it just yet. As she opens the blinds to her room and adjusts to the day ahead, she’s reminded of the to-do list full of assignments, activities, and tasks that’ll keep her brain occupied for a while. 

The thought of Eddie finally comes to her as she stands face to face with her closet. She forgot to prepare an outfit the night before and is tasked with choosing one now. It should be a simple enough task. There’s a few outfit combinations in her wardrobe that are tried and true, but a certain pesky thought stops her in her tracks before she can even select one.

What would Eddie think?

Y/N wonders what Eddie would think of any of the outfit choices she has. Would he think this outfit is too dorky? Would he think that outfit is cool? Would he think she looked pretty in whatever it is that she wears? 

Y/N shakes her head as if she could physically remove the thought that way. 

She convinces herself that it doesn’t even matter how she looks because she won’t even be spending time with him after school today. But then she realizes that it doesn’t mean she won’t see him at all.

During class, she’ll have to tell him that they’ll have to meet at 4:30 tomorrow instead because she has an appointment with her guidance counselor after school. 

It’ll only be a five minute conversation, so why base a whole outfit for the day based on a brief interaction, especially with a boy she has no business wanting to impress? 

And yet, she finds herself wanting to look good, for him. 

The realization makes her want to crawl out of her skin. She’s never been so boy crazy as to want to look good for a boy before. She sees that sort of hypnosis in her close friends who have boyfriends. From that moment forward, Y/N promised herself she wouldn’t succumb to that madness, yet here she is now. 

It’s silly to be worrying about this. She has college applications and exams and other, far more important, things to be worrying about. And besides, what's the point of a high school relationship? Not that she’s even imagining a relationship with Eddie, but while she’s on the subject, she reminds herself that they’re futile. 

This time next year, she’ll be away at college, many many miles away from Hawkins. And she can’t make permanent plans based on temporary people, so it’s futile to keep incorporating Eddie into her thoughts like this.

Eddie is just a boy that she has to work on an assignment with. It’s fun working with him, sure, but that’s all he is. Nothing more and nothing less… Right?

—

By the time Thursday rolls around Eddie’s been eagerly anticipating seeing Y/N again. 

If he had a quarter for every glance he stole at Y/N when he thought she wasn’t looking, he could probably buy another guitar by now. 

It’s not enough just to be able to see her in class, looking at her whenever she pushes up her glasses with her index finger or raises her hand and gives the correct answer to whatever problem the teacher presents them with. 

And it's definitely not enough to sneak glances of her at lunch where her friend group sits on the other side of the cafeteria. 

“Eddie,” Dustin waves a hand in his face.

“What?” Eddie snaps out of his daze.

“We’re voting on when to have the next campaign.” Dustin says with frustration.

“Yeah, yeah I’m down for whatever,” Eddie aloofly responds and shoos Dustin away.

Sometimes, if there’s not too many students walking past Y/N and her group of friends, Eddie will see her talking and laughing. And sometimes, he’ll blame it on his imagination, that when he sees Y/N crane her neck a few times, it’s because she too is searching for him across the sea of students. 

As he sees her laugh and smile, he wonders what she talks about. He also wonders what her friends are like. And he wishes he didn’t care, but a small part of him that he tries to bury wonders what they think of him. What would they think of him and Y/N spending so much time together? 

For the rest of the day, thoughts of Y/N consume Eddie’s head, and by the time school lets out, his blood is pumping rapidly in anticipation. 

Eddie lingers a bit with some of the Hellfire boys, but at 4:25 makes sure to promptly make his way to wait for Y/N by the counselor’s office. 

He almost wanted to bring her something. He thought about it a lot and considered bringing her a snack but he doesn’t know what her favorite candy or soda is. 

He also thought about bringing her some wildflowers from the field by the parking lot, but that would be too much. 

He even thought about bringing her one of his guitar picks, but worried she might think it was too weird or personal, or worse, not even care. 

Maybe it’s too soon to be doing any of those things, but he just wants to do something special for Y/N and make up for the weirdness of Tuesday night. 

He decides that maybe the best way to make it up to her would be to be on his best behavior and try his best to finish their assignment on a good note today.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t catch Y/N on quite a good note that afternoon. 

As he excitedly waits for her by the counselors office, he hopes she’ll appreciate his punctuality, but it proves pointless when it’s 4:35 and she’s still not there. 

He looks down the hall and checks the other side but it’s empty. He checks his watch again and frowns. Why is she taking so long? Did he somehow miss her?

Suddenly, the sound of a doorknob turning catches his attention and he sees Y/N sluggishly exiting the door of the guidance counselors office.

“Yeah, you too,” Y/N weakly mumbles over her shoulder before turning her head forward. 

She comes out in a daze, not even seeing Eddie and his wild mane of hair as she walks out the door like a zombie. 

“Y/N,” he wonders aloud in confusion. She walks slowly with her head hung low and doesn’t stop at the sound of his voice.

“Y/N wait up,” Eddie calls after her but she’s too lost in thought to hear. Eddie jogs to catch up to her and plants his feet in front of her. 

He sees a deep scowl on her face and teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. “Y/N are you okay?”

Y/N stops in her tracks and looks up at him, freed from her spiraling thoughts. She breathes deeply and holds herself steady. 

“Is something wrong?”

Y/N shakes her head and looks away. Eddie says her name in an unconvincing way. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks and Y/N looks up. She doesn’t say a word with her lips, but her eyes say it all.

Y/N’s chewing on her bottom lip as she contemplates what she should say or do. None of this concerns him and he probably wouldn’t care anyway. This is her problem and her problem alone to deal with.

“You know you can tell me right?” Eddie says reassuringly as he gently places his hand on her shoulder. Y/N slowly looks from his slender fingers gently gripping on the fabric of her shirt to his leather clad arm to the tattoos peeking out from his collar to the pale skin of his neck, the strong set of his jaw, the warmth of his lips, and the sincerity of his big brown eyes.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Y/N locks eyes with Eddie and she looks back and forth between his irises. A curtain of stone cold blankness crosses her face. She can’t let Eddie see her like this. It’s embarrassing enough what he’s learned about her, but to see her so weak and emotional like this is the last straw.

“Y/N, I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you don’t have to deal with this alone, you know? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Y/N lightly gasps under her breath. Can he hear her thoughts? How does he know what she’s feeling, without her even having to say a word? If she weren’t so self-conscious about her composure, she could just cry at his words. 

She doesn’t want to drag this moment out even more than it already has been, so she tries to give him enough of an explanation that he won’t ask questions and they can just move on from this unspeakably uncomfortable and embarrassing moment.

Y/N shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I just had to speak with the counselor and–” she cuts herself off.

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first. He waits for Y/N to continue her sentence, but when she doesn’t, he asks, “Did something happen in there?”

Y/N hesitates, contemplating if she should even say it out loud, let alone to Eddie. The boy is starting to get too close for comfort.

She looks at him and his big brown eyes and feels her chest tighten. The way he looks at her is unlike the way any boy has ever looked at her. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that she herself can’t even reciprocate. 

Normally, she would just keep something like this to herself, or better yet, pretend like it didn’t even happen, but the concern in his face and worry in his eyes begins to make her feel differently. 

Eddie removes his hand from her shoulder and lets it hang by his side, leaving her feeling cold. “I know you probably think I won’t understand, but… but I can try.” 

Y/N shakes her head. “It’s not that I think you wouldn’t understand Eddie,” Y/N responds, struggling but using every ounce of willpower in her body to maintain eye contact. “In fact, if I think about it, you might be the only one who would understand. I just… I… I don’t know. It feels weird to talk about.”

Eddie exhales and bites his lip as he looks away for a second before looking at Y/N. “Well, can you at least tell me how bad it was?”

“It was kind of bad.”

Eddie frowns. “Were you… hurt, in any way?”

“No, I didn’t get hurt,” Y/N exhales and the right corner of her lip turns up slightly, feeling somewhat relieved at having gotten a fraction of the most discouraging experience she’s ever had off her chest, even if it's to Eddie Munson.

Eddie exhales and a small smile slowly creeps onto his own face. “Good. I guess this means I don’t need to go around beating anybody up for you then, right?”

Y/N looks down and giggles. Eddie beams at her, feeling victorious at having brought a smile to her face.

“No. Not that I even believe violence is the answer, but no. And no offense, but you seem like your bark is much worse than your bite.” Y/N jokes as she starts walking. Eddie follows suit and the two make their way out of the building.

“Believe me, the Hellfire boys and I can do some real damage.”

“Yeah, like I’m entrusting a bunch of nerds to do my fighting. What’s a few matching t-shirts and dice gonna do?”

“Wow, so that’s how it is, huh? And calling us a bunch of nerds as if you yourself aren’t one,” Eddie teases and pinches Y/N’s cheek. Y/N nods with a small smirk and blush tinting her cheeks.

“You wound me, Y/N,” Eddie says and it comes off far more seductively in Y/N’s ears than the sarcasm Eddie likely intended.

When Y/N and Eddie make their way over to his van, Eddie walks Y/N to the passenger side and opens the door for her. Y/N raises a leg up to step into the van, then hesitates and brings it back down. She looks inside the van then back at Eddie who has one hand on the outside door handle and the other pressed flat against the back door. 

Y/N turns around and leans against the car. She exhales and shyly says Eddie’s name. The sound is sweeter than any song Eddie’s ever heard.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks gently. Their corner of the parking lot is empty, with the after school rush having died down which is a privacy Y/N welcomes. 

Seeing Y/N so guarded and unlike herself elicits an inexplicable need in Eddie to protect her. To take care of her. She’s strong on her own, but he wants her to know that she doesn’t always have to be. That she can be weak with him.  

“What happened back there,” Y/N says and jerks her head in the direction of the school building, “was because of something the counselor said to me.”

Eddie looks at her and doesn’t see a sense of fear in her face anymore. Despite this, he still wishes he could touch her. He wants to run his fingers along her arm or hold her in an embrace to comfort her, but he doesn’t want to be too forward or any more forward than he already has been. 

“What did she say?” He tilts his head and looks at her intensely.

“Something…weird… I just don’t understand.” Y/N shakes her head, trying to withstand the intensity of his gaze.

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“Well, she was weird about my college and major choice. I mean, the reason I even went to the guidance counselor today was to review my college application essays with her but we didn’t even get to do that. I sat down and handed them to her and before she even took a look at them, she asked where I was applying to and what I was majoring in. So I told her, you know, my dream school is the University of Chicago and I’m applying to their civil engineering program. I’ve wanted to go there for as long as I can remember.”

Y/N takes a deep breath in and out. Then, in a frustrated manner she rapidly and irritatedly explains the rest of her guidance counselor visit, “And it’s like I know what I like and what I’m good at and where I want to go and how I’m going to get there. All I needed was a second opinion on my essays. But she couldn’t even give me that. As soon as I told her my plan, she said I should set my sights on something a bit more realistic. But what do I need to be realistic about? I didn’t work my ass off to be ranked number three in our class, behind Randy and Lisa, do a million extracurriculars, and try to have stellar essays to be realstic.”

“Wow, she said that to you?”

“Yeah, and that’s not even the worst part. Then she goes on to say that she thinks I should look into the local community college or a state school here in Indiana because a person like me would be lucky to even get into one of those schools, let alone the University of Chicago.”

“A person like you? What does that even mean?” Eddie asks in disgust.

“I don’t know! But she said she wouldn’t even look over my application until I decided to apply to a state school and change my major to something a little bit easier and less intimidating.” 

“What? That’s fucking bullshit,” Eddie huffs angrily and slaps his hand against the car door several inches away from where Y/N’s leaning. The noise and proximity make her jump

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie says as he lightly rubs his hand up and down her arm. “Anyway, what else did she say?” 

“That was it,” Y/N says and Eddie nods. “I just feel so stupid, you know? I mean, next time I’ll just ask my English teacher to look over my essays.”

“Y/N,” Eddie asks, daring to include the phrase, “are you serious?”.

“What?”

“What the counselor said to you was complete and utter bullshit, you have to know that.”

Y/N shrugs while pressing her lips together and holding her breath. If she doesn’t think about it too much, then maybe the tears will go away. 

“She’s wrong about you. You shouldn’t listen to the indoctrination crap she probably gives every other person in this school. You’re meant for more than Hawkins. And you’ll be a badass at engineering, I guarantee it.”

Y/N’s spirit lifts at Eddie’s words, but not as much as it should have. She smiles, but it fades before she whispers in a hurt voice, “But then why would she say that?”

“Because she’s a fucking idiot! An idiot who can’t see that you’re one of the smartest students in this school, hell this town.”

“But Eddie, she’s the guidance counselor.”

“It doesn’t make her right.” He spits.

“What? Why not?” Y/N’s voice cracks as she clutches the door for balance. If she can’t trust the elders in her life, then who can she trust?

“Look Y/N, not every adult in the world is smart or right. In fact, a lot of them are the opposite. Just look at the president, he’s both.” Eddie sneers.

Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows. 

“And they don’t always have your best interest at heart either. Sometimes you have to just take what they say with a grain of salt.”

Y/N nods, eyebrows still furrowed as she makes sense of her words, “I never thought of it like that.”

“Well, you get let down enough times and you start learning the rules of this little thing called life,” Eddie smiles.

“Eddie,” Y/N responds with concern, looking at his bangs lightly blowing in the wind.

“Don’t worry about me, Y/N. Just promise that you won’t listen to what she says.”

“I can, it’s just… How could she say that to a student?”

“ Because she’s just doing her Hawkins High School job of forcing conformity onto you. But you don’t have to do that, you know.” Eddie bends down to follow her downcast line of sight till she looks him in the eye. “You don’t have to be who people want you to be.” 

Y/N scrunches her eyebrows. The realizations are too intense for her. For as long as she could remember, she did what others expected of her.

“You can’t let your guidance counselors, or your teachers, or even your parents continue to tell you who you are or who you should be, Y/N. Only you get to decide who that is.”

Y/N looks away and blinks rapidly as she begins to feel tears form in her eyes. It’s too much too fast. She can only handle so many life altering realizations delivered by none other than Eddie Munson.

She opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. She looks up at Eddie. 

“Come here,” Eddie says as he rapidly wraps his arms around her and engulfs her in a hug. 

Y/N’s body is frozen in shock. She’s still processing the events of her guidance counselor’s visit and Eddie’s words, but the feeling of Eddie’s tightening arms around her and the tufts of his hair tickling the skin of her cheeks bring her back to reality.

Slowly, she slinks her arms around his middle and presses her cheek against his warm chest. She sniffles and pulls tighter. This kind of affection is foreign to her, but coming from Eddie, it’s more than welcome.

Eddie rests his chin atop her forehead and gently strokes the hair of her ponytail. She breathes him in. The scent of soap, cigarette smoke, and maybe even a bit of cologne fills her nostrils. He smells so good. Has a boy ever smelled this good before?

They hold each other like that for what feels like eternity but is only a few minutes. She almost doesn’t want to let go, but her body betrays her and she pulls away.

“Eddie,” she gently says with furrowed eyebrows.

Eddie looks at her and realizes he just made a big mistake. “I’m sorry, I thought it would help.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… can we get out of here,” Y/N gently asks. 

Eddie sighs in relief and smiles, “Let’s go.” 

When they climb in the car, Eddie looks at her and says, “If you want, you can listen to whatever radio station you like.”

Y/N meekly nods. It’s only car ride number three and he’s already defying his own rules for her. She knows how much it must mean for him to say that so she shyly thanks him and tunes in to her favorite station. 

“When we get to the diner we can get whatever you want and just forget about all the bullshit that is Hawkins High School. Sound good?” Eddie says as he starts the van and pulls out of the parking lot. “Actually,” Y/N responds, “I don’t really feel like going to the diner today.”

“Oh,” Eddie looks from the sides of his eyes, “Where do you want to go?”

“I kind of want to go somewhere quiet. I don’t really feel like being around a lot of people right now.”

Eddie looks at her again, not really sure what she’s asking for. “Did you have anywhere in mind?” 

Eddie’s already on the road, only a few minutes away from the diner, but he’d travel a hundred miles if it meant making Y/N happy.

“No, not really.”

“Uh, we could go back to my place, if that’s alright. My uncle has an early shift today so he should be gone by the time we get there.”

Y/N steps out of her emotions for a second and realizes the gravity of his invitation. She’s being invited to Eddie Munson’s home. She’ll be home alone, with a boy. Just her and Eddie. And Eddie’s room which might eventually enter the mix. Her and Eddie. Alone. In a room. His room. With his bed and-

“Does that sound okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah that’s perfect,” Y/N’s lips answer, betraying her anxious thoughts.

“Okay,” Eddie says as he looks at his fuel gauge, noticing its dangerously close level to empty. “We might have to stop at a gas station real quick. I’m not gonna have enough to make it all the way to my trailer.”

Trailer? Y/N didn’t know Eddie lived in a trailer. It’s not a bad thing, but she’s more surprised than anything to learn this about him. Although, it makes sense if it’s just him and his uncle. She imagines how a house could get too big and too lonely that way.

“Sure thing,” Y/N nods. Somehow, the thought of stopping somewhere familiar like a gas station before delving into the unknown that is Eddie’s personal space feels slightly relieving to Y/N.

After a few minutes, Eddie pulls into the gas station and parks in front of the convenience store. 

“Eddie, I thought-”

“C’mon, let’s get some snacks,” Eddie says and gets out of the van before Y/N has a chance to say anything. 

Y/N follows suit, confused by his direction. She follows him and he opens the door for her to enter. A bell chimes and she walks through to find a landscape of chips, candies, and sodas galore. 

She slowly makes her way to the side and looks to Eddie to lead the way. He looks down at her and says a quick, “C’mon” before strolling to the candy aisle.

“What’s your favorite candy?” Eddie says as his eyes scan the rows of sweets.

“Um, I like Hershey’s chocolate, especially the kind with almonds,” Y/N says softly.

“Ok, Hershey’s chocolate with almonds for you and pop rocks for me,” Eddie reaches out and grabs one of each candy.

“Eddie, but-”

“C’mon, let’s go get some slurpees,” Eddie cheers as he makes his way over to the slurpee machine.

“Eddie,” Y/N calls after him. 

“Which one do you want, blue raspberry or cherry?”

“Um, I’m fine with just my candy,” Y/N shyly says.

“You sure,” Eddie cocks an eyebrow and Y/N nods. 

“If you say so,” he raises his hands in mock defense. 

He leans in and places a flat hand by his mouth and whispers, “But between you and me, if you want some later you can just have some of mine,” he winks.

Y/N blinks in confusion at Eddie. What has gotten into him?

“Think we’ll need anything else before we go?”

“Um, not really,” Y/N shrugs, not expecting him to go on this random massive snack scavenger hunt with her.

“Okay let’s hit the road then,” Eddie says as he skips over to checkout. Y/N and Eddie argue about him paying for her chocolate bar before ultimately just letting him do it.

They exit the store and get into the van. Eddie reparks the car at the closest available pump and gets out of the van. As he stands, waiting for the gas to pump into his van, Y/N sighs and looks out the window. 

A car with an unrecognizable boy driving and girl riding in the passenger seat, pull up to the pump in front of them. The boy says something to the girl before leaning over the console to give her a quick peck on the lips. He gets out of the car and starts pumping gas. The girl looks over and makes eye contact with Y/N. She smiles and Y/N instinctively gives her a shy smile back.

The girl turns to look in Eddie’s direction while Y/N looks in the direction of the girl's boyfriend. The two boys see each other and do a mutual head nod.

Y/N turns over her shoulder and sees Eddie leaned against the van. One arm is fully outstretched with a palm flat against the metal of the vehicle while the other is holding the pump. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes cast downward, but when he feels Y/N looking at him, his eyes flick upward and he smirks at her. 

Y/N’s eyes widen and cheeks redden as she rapidly swivels back in her seat. She breathes in through her nostrils, but it feels shallow.

She hears the clanking of the nozzle and shortly after, Eddie climbs back into the van.

“You ready,” he asks with a gleam in his eyes. Y/N sees the couple across from them getting ready to leave too.

“Um,” she looks over at him with a nervous smile, “Yeah.”

“Alright,” he cheerfully exclaims. He puts the gear into drive and backs out of the pumping area. Y/N resists the urge to admire how sinfully good looking he is when he drives or wonder if she and Eddie looked just as much like a couple to the boy and girl from the gas station as they did to her.

For the rest of the journey to Eddie’s trailer, Eddie makes mindless chatter, filling Y/N’s nervous silence beyond that of her favorite radio station. 

“Shh, I love this song,” Y/N interrupts Eddie and raises the volume as When Doves Cry by Prince comes on.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite Prince songs.”

Eddie briefly looks over at her and asks incredulously, “Really?” 

“Yeah! Probably that and Purple Rain.”

“Hm,” Eddie nods contemplatively.

He hesitates a moment before adding “I know Prince is more of a pop star, but even I can admit, the man is an absolute beast on guitar,” Eddie comments in awe and Y/N giggles. 

“He is! Maybe you should learn how to play a Prince song. Expand your heavy metal horizons and what not.”

Eddie chuckles and looks over at Y/N. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

Y/N nods and notices they’re approaching the trailer park. Eddie drives past a few trailers before pulling up to his own. 

Y/N’s looks around, taking in her surroundings. The spaced out beige paneled trailers are different from the tightly packed red brick homes of her neighborhood. 

Here, many adults are outside hanging wet clothes to dry on a clothesline or sitting and having a beer with their loved ones. In her neighborhood, it’s usually children out on the streets playing or riding their bikes. It’s different, but comforting in the same way.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie greets as he opens the door to the trailer and lets Y/N walk through first. She takes a step in and Eddie follows behind her, turning on the yellow fluorescent light that hums above them. 

She takes in the sight of the kitchen, dining room and living room. The space isn’t big by any means, but it's somehow roomier than she thought it would be. 

She walks further and turns around, taking in the sight of dozens of trucker hats and coffee mugs on the walls and ceiling. 

She looks to the side and notes the worn brown couch in front of the tv with a collection of VHS tapes scattered nearby. She wonders which ones are Eddie’s favorites. What are his favorite movies or tv shows?

The clanking of dishes takes her out of her thoughts and she turns to see Eddie rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.

“Since you despise slurpees for some weird reason–”

“I don’t despise slurpees. They’re fine, just not really my treat of choice.”

“Whatever you say, smarty pants.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“Could I interest you in a crisp refreshing coke,” he says in a jingle voice, “or maybe a cup of stale leftover coffee my uncle probably made before he left?”

Y/N follows Eddie’s voice to the kitchen. She approaches the counter and leans her arms against it. “Um, yes to the coke, no to the coffee.”  

She watches Eddie as he sets a glass on the counter, fills it with ice, and pours a can of Coca Cola over it. “One ice cold coke on the rocks,” Eddie proclaims as he slides the glass over the counter to Y/N as he looks into her eyes and wiggles his eyebrows.

Y/N blushes and looks down, but her hair is pulled back so there’s nothing to hide her embarrassed blush. 

“Thanks,” she gratefully mumbles before turning around and taking a seat at the table. As Eddie serves his own glass, Y/N starts taking out her papers and pencil. 

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks as he sits down across from her. She nods and meekly looks up from her paper to him. “Yeah, thanks for your help Eddie,” she says sweetly. 

Eddie nods. “Sure thing, smarty pants. Wanna get to work then?” Eddie asks as he pulls out his own papers.

“Oh, um, yeah.” Y/N responds, surprised at Eddie’s eagerness to actually focus on their assignment for once. 

She looks down at the papers scattered in front of her. They only have a few more questions to work on till they're done. She can get them done in no time. 

Except this time around, she finds herself more distracted than ever. She’s constantly looking around the trailer or getting lost in some thought completely unrelated to chemistry and 9 times out of 10 related to Eddie. 

At first, she lets her eyes wander to the mug collection she saw earlier and wonders if Eddie had chosen any. Does he even drink coffee? Or tea? He seems like someone who primarily lives on Jack and Coke and the thrill of a heavy metal song. Or maybe they all belong to his uncle. What is he like?

She tries to refocus her attention to the pencil in her hand and the paper in front of her, but the pencil feels too heavy and something inside her buzzes too loudly for her to properly focus on anything. 

She looks back up and sees Eddie deep in concentration. His slender, ring clad fingers wrapped around a pencil. She wonders where he got those rings from or why he even chose to wear them in the first place. They look good on him, no doubt, but it’s rather uncommon for guys to wear rings or things like that. Well, unless you’re Freddie Mercury or David Bowie that is. 

Her gaze trails up to his wild head of hair. His voluminous frizzy waves take over his head and shoulders. She wonders what he ever looked like with short hair. She also wonders what he would look like with his hair in a ponytail or even in braids. She imagines what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair as she braided it. 

His hair is another one of those things that not many guys could pull off, but on Eddie, it’s totally and utterly attractive.

“Y/N,” Eddie says in a playfully scolding voice still looking down at his paper, “I know I’m looking sexy as hell today, but do you think we could maybe focus on the task at hand?” Eddie looks up at her with a shit eating grin and Y/N tenses up. 

“What? I’m not–I…I am focusing on the task at hand” Y/N scoffs, flustered and red-cheeked. 

“You sure about that sweetheart?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise as his gaze travels to Y/N’s blank paper.

Y/N’s breath gets caught in her throat as she looks down. “Y-yeah I am.”

“You don’t sound too sure,” Eddie replies, cockiness dripping with every word.

Y/N turns her head up and looks Eddie square in the eye, “Well, I am. So, one, tough shit if you don’t believe me, and two, for your information, you’re not even… sexy, so...”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re so cute when you curse.”

Y/N gasps and Eddie leans forward to seductively add, “Even more when you lie.”

“Eddie,” Y/N hisses, flames kissing every inch of her skin. “Stop distracting me so we can finish this assignment.”

“You seem distracted whether or not I say anything, smarty pants.”

“That’s… not true.” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her watered down coke before pretending to focus on the question before her. 

She can feel her heart beating loudly in her chest. Can Eddie hear it too?

“Uh huh, sure,” Eddie says sarcastically before returning to his own work. Soon enough, the heat in Y/N’s chest and shame in her features dissipate till the two are silently engrossed in finishing the remainder of their assignment.

With the adrenaline from Eddie’s shameless teasing, Y/N finds the strength to finish the assignment with ease.

“Okay, I’m finished with my part. How are you on yours?” Y/N asks.

“Hold on. I’m almost done with this last question” Eddie says without looking away from the paper as he scribbles out his answer.

Eddie puts his pencil down and looks up at Y/N, “I’m done." 

“We did it!” Y/N cheers and raises her hand up for a high five. Eddie is confused at first, then claps his hand to hers. 

“Yeah,” he forces a smile. 

This isn’t good news. It should be, but it isn’t. This means he won’t have a reason to spend time with Y/N anymore. If he's honest with himself, why else would someone like Y/N hang out with a freak like him. 

He recalls the first day they spent together and the conversation they had after they left the library. He remembers promising Y/N that they would do something fun to celebrate their finished assignment. He doubts Y/N remembers it or actually meant it when she promised it back. 

Part of him wants to bring it up, but it’s a miracle that she’s even here with him now. Maybe he can just make the most of his time left with her now, before it’s over.

Y/N checks her watch, “And it’s only 5:45!”

Eddie looks over his shoulder before turning back to Y/N. “You don’t have to be home till 7:00 right?”

“Yeah!”

“C’mere. I wanna show you something?” Eddie says and gets out of his chair. “Oh, what is it?” Y/N asks innocently.

He leads the way to his room and Y/N cautiously follows. He enters casually while Y/N lingers in the doorway. Eddie begins moving things around and searching for something within his drawers while Y/N scans the room; there’s stuff everywhere. How can someone think or breathe in a room like this? The disorganization makes Y/N yearn for the clean corners and empty edges of her own bedroom.

She takes in the mixture of band and playboy posters hung on the walls. There’s empty cigarette cartons and crushed beer cans on the dresser. It smells faintly of weed and even a bit of aquanet. There’s clothes strewn about across every square inch of the room. 

She refrains from touching anything, feeling like the inside of a museum exhibit of a teenage boys room in 1985.

The chaos makes Y/N feel on edge, but she relaxes as her gaze settles on a weird looking, larger than life, bright red guitar hung on his mirror across from the doorway.

She slowly walks forward, almost entranced by the exquisite instrument. Its edges create a unique shape and the cherry red color is so vibrant. She stands before it and only looks, but her hands are itching to-

“Touch it,” Eddie says from behind and Y/N shrieks. She looks over her shoulder at Eddie standing inches away and clutches the part of her shirt over her chest.

“Holy shit, I didn’t mean to scare you there tiger,” Eddie chuckles and Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“You didn’t… I just could hear you.” Y/N mutters and looks at the hand he effortlessly places on her shoulder.

“You can touch the guitar if you want,” Eddie says and he’s so close Y/N can feel the vibration of his voice against her body. His warm breath lightly coats her exposed ear.

“Can I?”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay,” she says softly and reaches out to touch the base of the guitar. She lightly runs her fingers across the sleek material and shivers. She slowly strums her fingers along the chords and nearly jumps at the corresponding noise. 

“Wanna hold it?” Eddie asks and lifts his arms up to take the guitar off its mount. Y/N’s eyes are drawn to the tattoos on the taut skin of his muscled bicep. 

He offers the guitar to Y/N and she takes it, placing the strap over her head and onto her shoulder.

“Do you play on this often?”

“Yeah, we play at a dive bar a couple miles out of town.”

“What?” Y/N asks as she strums across the chords. She looks up at him in confusion.

Eddie looks around for a chord and connects the guitar to the amp on his dresser, “I play with my band, Corroded Coffin.”

“You’re in a band?” She asks with widened eyes.

“Yeah, you should come see us sometime,” he says confidently.

Y/N nods, speechless at the realization that Eddie is not only in a band but performs live. Her mind zeroes in on the vision of what Eddie would like playing guitar on stage. How his hair would stick to sweat on his skin and how the stage lights would reflect on his tattooed arms or dazzling eyes. 

“Here, try this,” Eddie turns on the amp and hands Y/N a guitar pick. Y/N takes it and nervously strums the guitar. She nearly flinches from the loud vibrations. 

“See, you’re a natural,” Eddie teases. Y/N glares at him.

“We’ll take it slow,” Eddie says as he leans forward and places her hands on a specific string and fret. Y/N looks up at his hooded eyes, lids half closed as he looks down at her hands. She’s almost mesmerized by his beautiful features till the electric touch of his fingers on hers brings her attention down to the instrument between them.

“Now strum” his command brings Y/N back to earth. She strums and hears the sound vibrate off the instrument. 

“Now put your right hand on the string below it and put your left hand here,” Eddie adjusts. She strums. 

“Okay, now put this hand here, on the D and G chords, and this hand here,” Eddie gives her another chord and she strums. They repeat the process for several more chords. 

“Now put it all together,” Eddie instructs. 

Y/N slowly strums, pausing to adjust between chords. When she forgets a chord, because why did Eddie have to make her memorize so many, she looks up to Eddie and he points out the next one. 

She plays the entire piece and it sounds crooked but somewhat familiar. She tries it again and again. The more she plays the more she recognizes the song he’s just taught her. 

“Wait,” Y/N looks back down in concentration and plays the chords faster. Duh duh duhhh duh duh duh duhhhh, duh duh duhhh duh duh. 

“Eddie,” Y/N exclaims. She looks at him with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. She looks down and plays the chords more fluidly, getting into a rhythm. 

She plays the song again and moves her body to the rhythm, leaning forward and back and bobbing her head along the way.

“Eddie! I’m…” Y/N trails off as she finishes the song one last time.

“A rockstar?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“No,” she rolls her eyes then peers up at him.

“That, smarty pants, is the legendary riff to Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple.”

Y/N stops playing and tightly clutches the guitar in her fingers. She scrunches her eyebrows and grins at the impending sense of pride she feels.

“That was… awesome! I loved every second of it. Do you feel like this every time you play?” She asks in breathless excitement. Her chest drastically rising and falling.

Eddie’s taken aback by Y/N’s reaction. He didn’t think she would be this excited or awestruck. He clears his throat and says, “Something like that.”

 Y/N takes the strap off and holds out the guitar to him.

“It’s your turn,” She smugly grins at him. 

“You want me to play?” Eddie smirks and grabs the guitar. 

Y/N sits back on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, show me what you’ve got.” She says with a challenging tone.

Eddie adjusts the guitar in his expert fingers. He holds his hand out for the guitar pick and flicks his wrist before he starts strumming. 

“You mean, a little something like this,” he winks before playing the chords to Iron Man by Black Sabbath. Y/N gasps at how much it sounds like the tape he played just the other day.

“Or maybe a little something like this,” he says and expertly plays the Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple chord he just taught her. 

“Surely you know that one,” he winks at her open mouthed and wide eyed face.

“Wanna hear something new I’ve added to my set list?” Eddie asks and Y/N nods with heat emanating from every inch of her skin. Eddie breathes in then exhales. He closes his eyes and strums the intro riff to When Doves Cry by Prince. 

“Eddie!” Y/N squeals as she rises to her feet, smile beaming wide from ear to ear. “You learned my favorite Prince song? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N knows she must be imagining the pink tint beginning to coat Eddie’s cheeks. 

Eddie decided from the first time Y/N rode in his van that he would learn a song for her. He figured a Prince song would be the most natural option. After borrowing the Purple Rain tape from one of his bandmates and listening to it for hours on repeat, he not only fell in love with the album but wanted to learn how to play every single song. He really liked the intro riff to When Doves Cry but he never realized the song would draw him in the same way it did for Y/N.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says bashfully. 

Truthfully, he didn’t expect he would ever get the chance to show her, but the look in her eyes let him know that the late nights spent practicing were well worth it.

Y/N looks at him smiling breathlessly at her. This is the nicest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for her. 

She turns her head to the side and covers her smile with her fingers. If she doesn’t get it together, she’s sure her heart will explode out of her chest.

Keeping her fingertips on her lips, she asks, “Do you sing, at all? For Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie presses his lips together, fighting the smile threatening to form on his face and does a one shoulder shrug.

“What does that mean?” 

“Sorta, kinda.” Eddie shortly grins. With most girls, he’ll never hesitate to let them know he’s the frontman of Corroded Coffin. He doesn’t know why, but girls always seem to like him more when they learn he’s a guitar player, especially when he tells them he’s the lead singer too. 

“So do you sing backup then?”

“Not exactly,” he grins at her like a Cheshire cat.

“Eddie,” Y/N whines, “Why are you being so weird about this? Just answer the question.”

Eddie leans back on his dresser and crosses his arms over his chest. He smiles and cockily says, “Just come to one of our shows. You’ll find out then.” 

“When’s your next show?”

“Friday.”

Y/N gulps. “Friday, as in tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Eddie replies, cockily popping the p-sound.

Y/N frowns, “I can’t. My friends and I made plans to go to Star Court after school.”

“That’s fine. We usually don’t go on till 11:00 anyway. You can come after. And bring your friends too.”

“Eddie, I can’t do that. On weekends my curfew is 10:00.”

Eddie looks down in disappointment, “Oh, come on, you can just sneak out. Your parents won’t know the difference.”

“Seriously, I can’t. And I just know they would find out somehow. Nothing gets past them.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Get one of them to cover for you.”

Y/N knows that if her sister could, that she would cover for her, and that she could potentially get away with it, but that’s way too big of an if she’s not ready to gamble on. 

“Eddie, even if I could get my sister to cover for me, I just don’t think it would work.”

“Sure they will. They’ll probably be asleep the whole time and not even notice you’re gone.”

Y/N tries to imagine it. Never mind the fact that she doesn’t even have a car to get her there. But, if somehow he gave her a ride and if her sister covered her and if everything worked out… What would happen then? Probably nothing because there’s no way that could ever happen.

“Look Eddie, while I’m under my parents roof, I can’t afford to get in trouble in any capacity. I just can’t. I hope you can understand,” Y/N looks at him pleadingly.

Eddie looks into her eyes and sees a scared child. It’s a sight he recognizes instantly because he used to have it too.

“Yeah, I understand,” he replies in a sense of respectful disappointment.

“Thanks,” Y/N whispers and Eddie nods. 

An awkward silence fills the room but is interrupted when Y/N gets an idea. “I would still like to see you play though.”

Eddie looks at her in confusion.

“Maybe you could give me a preview, tonight,” Y/N bats her eyes. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“You could play one song. It could be like practice.” She says innocently with big doe eyes.

Eddie is tempted to give in, but he hasn’t fully let go of the hope that she could see him play live with Corroded Coffin someday. He knows it's a lot to ask for someone like her, and yet he wants it badly enough to ask for it anyway.  

But for all he knows, this might be the last night they ever spend together. If she were to never see him play live or even see him outside of the classroom, then he wants to give her something. He wants to give Y/N anything she asks and one last beautiful memory between them both.

“Okay,” he gives in.

“Really? You sure?” Y/N worries she might have pressured him. 

“Yeah, for you I will.”

Y/N smiles hopefully at him “Okay.”

Eddie turns over and moves items around on his dresser. He pulls out a microphone and plugs the chord attached to it to the amp beside him

He juts his chin in the direction of the back corner of the room “You mind passing me the mic stand over there?”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she silently follows his request. Is he really about to do this right now?

“You sure it won’t be too loud? Don’t want to disturb the neighbors.”

“Nah, they don’t care.”

“They don’t or you don’t care?”

“Y/N, I practice like this all the time and they’ve never said anything to me before.”

“Yet.”

“Y/N, do you want me to do this or not?” He chuckles. 

Y/N nods, “I do.”

“Just sit back,” He flicks his wrist in the direction of his bed, “Relax, and enjoy the show.”

Y/N slowly backs away and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. She looks up at him, palms sweating and nerves tingling.

Eddie breathes and takes a moment to think about which song he’ll play for her. Besides the short Prince riff he just learned for her, there’s nothing he can play that she’ll like or isn’t metal. He doesn’t have a lot of options, so he goes with a safe choice and hopes she’ll appreciate it anyway.

He kisses his guitar pick before strumming the chords to Paranoid by Black Sabbath. It’s his favorite song to perform and one he knows like the back of his hand. 

He begins strumming and shaking his head in rhythm with the song.

Finished with my woman 'cause

She couldn't help me with my mind

People think I'm insane because

I am frowning all the time

His voice echoes through the sound system and fills Y/N’s ears. Y/N looks at him and notices how his full lips curl closely to the head of the microphone. 

All day long I think of things

But nothing seems to satisfy

Think I'll lose my mind

If I don't find something to pacify

He looks from his fingers on the guitar to Y/N’s face. His eyes lock with hers and he smiles before wailing:

Can you help me

Occupy my brain?

Oh yeah

His fingers dance along the strings and up the neck of the cherry red electric guitar. He thrusts his shoulders and moves his pelvis along with the instrument. He shakes his head, letting his frizzy waves fly. 

I need someone to show me

The things in life that I can't find

I can't see the things that make

True happiness, I must be blind

He's lost in focus, trying to play it perfectly for her. He’s never looked more beautiful. Y/N’s dryly swallows the saliva in her poached throat. An unnerving sensation begins to grow in the pit of her stomach and her heart races to the beat of the song. In this moment, she realizes that she finally understands what it means when people say they’re turned on. 

In just a simple pair of black jeans, a hellfire club t shirt, a leather jacket, and jean vest, Y/N feels like she’s in the presence of an absolute sex god. 

Make a joke and I will sigh

And you will laugh and I will cry

Happiness I cannot feel

And love to me is so unreal

Y/N can feel the blood dancing in her veins. She almost wants to stand up and jump or dance around to the song, but one, there’s hardly any space, and two, how do you even dance to this kind of music? It’s so much easier to dance to music on the radio or the Spanish music her parents listen to.

She settles for nodding her head to the rhythm and grinning at Eddie. She even lets out a few whoops and hollers to cheer him on which he nervously smiles at before refocusing on the song.

And so as you hear these words

Telling you now of my state

I tell you to enjoy life

I wish I could but it's too late

Eddie strums the last chord and it slowly fades out. The buzz of the sound still reverberates around the room. His chest rises and falls and the hair at the back of his neck is damp. 

Eddie wakes up from his metal induced trance and sees Y/N standing on her feet and clapping. She’s grinning widely at him and he breathlessly smiles back at her.

“Eddie! That was so awesome! You’re literally a rockstar!”

Y/N could just hug him, but there’s a whole guitar between them. And despite the fact that Eddie already took them to a “good acquaintances that can hug under specific circumstances” level, Y/N feels too shy to initiate such contact.

“Nah,” Eddie breathlessly replies with a wave of  a hand.

“No seriously,” Y/N takes a step forward and places her hand an inch away from his holding the neck of the guitar, “You have a gift.”

They lock eyes for a moment. Y/N’s shine in admiration and Eddie’s gleam in pride.

Eddie breaks the contact to move over and unplug the chords.

As he puts the guitar back in its place, Y/N turns around and walks around the room with her back facing Eddie. It’s embarrassing how big he’s making her smile. 

“So how long have you been playing guitar?” She asks as she pretends to look at the other things in his room. 

“I don’t know. As long as I can remember.” Eddie says as his eyes follow her movement. 

“Is that what you want to do when you grow up?” Y/N asks. 

“I’m nineteen. Some would say I’m pretty grown already.” 

Y/N’s tenses. She doesn’t like when he throws his age around like that. It makes her feel intimidated knowing how much older and experienced in life he is. 

“You know what I mean Eddie.”

“I don’t know Y/N. Probably yeah. I want to keep playing for as long as I can.”

“What do you think you’ll do when you graduate?” Y/N asks as she walks over and sits at the corner of his bed. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” Eddie replies from his place against the dresser.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he replies curtly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, just haven’t.” 

“Really?” Y/N asks incredulously. 

“Look, maybe I’ll get a job with my uncle. Maybe I’ll go and fix up old cars. Maybe I’ll work at the record store at Star Court. Is that what you want to hear?” Eddie says in frustration as he plops down next to Y/N.

Y/N holds her breath and waits for him to calm down. She didn’t mean to make him mad, but what she doesn’t realize is just how sensitive of a subject this is for Eddie.

“Point is, I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“You don’t… have a plan?” She asks quietly, barely above a whisper at the boy sitting next to her.

“No, I don’t have a plan Y/N,” he says in a controlled voice as he looks down at his hands folded in his lap. “Why should I make a plan when it’s probably just gonna change?”

She turns her head to face him. “Yeah, sometimes your plans can change, but they still give you something to work for, something to hope for.”

“The last thing I need is false hope.”

“It’s not false hope, Eddie.”

“Tell me how it’s not.”

“I mean, if you could make your tomorrow better than your today, wouldn’t you at least try?”

Eddie looks down at Y/N who’s already looking up at him. He scrunches his eyebrows and bites the inside of his lower lip. 

He looks back down at his lap and Y/N’s eyes trail to the tattoos on his arms. She wishes she could reach out and touch them, but that would be weird right? She’s in his room, leg to leg and arm to arm with him, but it would be too much if she reached out and placed her fingers over that delicate skin, right?

“Even if I did, what would it matter? Tomorrow isn’t promised, why should I act like it is?”

Y/N can’t deny that some of his words ring true, but it’s still not enough to convince her otherwise. Y/N sighs, “Are you happy, Eddie? With the way things are now.”

Eddie can’t find himself saying yes. Of course he isn’t happy he failed his senior year of high school twice. Of course he isn’t happy to be a burden on his uncle. But as long as he had his guitar and his D&D, it made life bearable.

“I mean for some things yeah, but I have a lot of other things to be happy about. I have my friends and I have my Uncle Wayne and I have music. To some, it may not look like a lot, but for me, that’s all I need.”

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes in. “Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Y/N twiddles her fingers in her lap. “You do have a lot to be happy about. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can be grateful for everything your family’s done for you and you can still want more for yourself. I know I am.”

“You are?”

“Sure. I’m grateful for all the sacrifices my parents have made and all the things they’ve done for me, but at the same time, I know there’s more out there and I want it, even if it’s just a taste.”

Eddie muses over Y/N’s words. “Yeah I guess so.”

“In the same way, I’m grateful for everything Hawkins has given me, even if it includes shitty school counselors and hardly anything to do for miles, but I still want more than what this little town can offer, you know?”

Eddie nods slowly. “So what do you want?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want? That your parents or Hawkins can’t give you?”

Y/N takes a deep breath. There’s so many things that she wants in life. But she feels weird letting it all come out to Eddie. These are things she thinks about constantly but never tells anyone. She's excited but tries to contain it and instead lets out a simple, all encompassing answer. “Freedom.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles at her.

“Yeah. I can’t really do what I want or be who I want under my parent’s roof or in a place like Hawkins.”

“I feel the same way. I mean I can be who I want in here, but out there…” Eddie trails off and shakes his head.

“Is there anything you want?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”

“Really?”

“I mean… no one’s ever asked me.”

“Well, I’m asking you. And I’m sure there’s something. For starters, do you ever want to leave Hawkins?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think about getting out of this god forsaken town, but then I think about my uncle Wayne and my parents and what any of them would think and I just… I’m not ready to leave this place just yet. Maybe in a couple of years, but for now, I’m not ready to leave my family, my uncle.”

Eddie hasn’t really brought up his parents before, so she knows how big of a deal it must be for him to have brought them up. 

She places a gentle hand on his forearm and slowly rubs her thumb along the skin. Afraid to look Eddie in the eyes and make a vulnerable moment even more uncomfortable, she watches as Eddie brings his other hand over hers and guides it to interlock their fingers.

“I’m so sorry Eddie.” Y/N squeezes his hand. 

“You don’t have to be.” Eddie says in a comforting voice as he sandwiches her hand between the both of his. 

The two are silent for a moment before Eddie adds, “I think I might want to get out of this trailer though, stop being such a burden on my uncle.”

“Eddie, I’m sure that’s not true.” “Eh, it kind of is though. I mean imagine barely making ends meet and still having another mouth to feed. He’s not even a parent but for the past several years he's had a kid to worry about. I don’t want to be that anymore. I just want to be like a normal nephew and uncle. I–” Eddie chokes and squeezes Y/N’s hand. 

He clears his throat and in a strong voice says, “I want to stop being a fuckup and finally make him proud.”

Y/N gasps and tightens her grip on his hand. “Eddie–”

“Shh.” Eddie shakes his head. He breathes in deeply. “I just need to graduate. And then, I’ll get a job and I can get my own place. Maybe even upgrade the busted old van outside, but not too soon though. She’s been with me through too much.”

“Your van is a she?” Y/N laughs.

“Yes, she is. She’s my old girl.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and Eddie chuckles. “Guys are so weird about their cars.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“I’m very much not.” 

“Whatever you say, smarty pants.”

Eddie squeezes Y/N’s hand and she looks at him. “So, what about your band?”

“What about my band?” Eddie smiles and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“Is there anything you want for your band’s future?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? There’s gotta be something,” Y/N looks up at him, “You have a gift that needs to be shared with the world.”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know. I never thought of it like that before.”

“Eddie, you could perform in front of hundreds of adoring fans every night. Don’t you want to hear girls screaming, we love you Eddie, from the mosh pit of every arena across the country?”

“Only if you’re one of them,” Eddie pinches Y/N’s cheek. She giggles and swats his hand away. 

“Sure, if you ever have a gig in Chicago, let me know and I’ll be there.” 

“So tell me smarty pants, why Chicago?”

Y/N shrugs and giddily replies, “Oh, lots of reasons. We visit a lot because we have family there and every time I go I fall more and more in love with the city. The people there are so cool and at night the skyline lights twinkle like stars. It's beautiful. Everything about the city makes me feel alive. I feel like I can be myself there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods and smiles. “It doesn’t hurt to be too far from here either.”

“Oh so the big Chicago hot-shot is gonna come back and grace the presence of us Hawkins common folk?”

“Shut up Eddie, it’s not even like that.” Y/N leans to the side to shove Eddie.

“You’re gonna get into that school Y/N, I just know it. You’ll be the best thing to come out of this town.”

Y/N looks up into Eddie’s eyes, sparkling in the low light of the lamps in his room. “Thanks Eddie… You’re gonna make your uncle proud–you’ll make all of us proud too, I know it.”

Eddie smiles at Y/N. His lips pulled tight to create a dense dimple by the corner of his mouth. A comfortable silence falls between them.

All of a sudden, Y/N feels a tightening in her chest. She can’t breathe properly. He’s too close. Talking could distract her before, but now that there’s silence, all she can focus on is the feeling of his leg against hers. Of the warmth and weight of his hand in hers. 

He shuffles his torso slightly to face her and his arm rubs against her. She looks down at the newly created empty space between their arms.

“Y/N,” Eddie softly calls out. Y/N looks up and her breath hitches from how close his face is to hers.

“Yeah,” she replies barely above a whisper. She looks between his warm chocolate eyes. His eyes flicker from her lips and settle on her own bright eyes. 

Is this going to happen?

Y/N’s palms are sweating and her heart is pumping loudly and violently in her chest. 

A part of her is afraid and nervous and not yet ready for this to happen. But the other part of her is the opposite. 

She hadn’t realized it till this very moment. If anyone was going to be her first kiss, she would want it to be Eddie. But would he even want to kiss her? What is happening? If Eddie is going to do something, he needs to do it now and take Y/N out of her misery.

He opens his mouth and closes it. His eyes flash to the side and he gulps. “I should probably take you home now. Don’t want you to miss curfew.”

If Eddie’s not mistaken, a look of disappointment crosses Y/N’s features quickly before she covers it with a mask of neutrality.

“Oh, yeah, ok,” she nods and looks at her watch. It’s fifteen till 7:00. Of all times for Eddie to be more concerned about following the rules than Y/N, why now?

“Let’s go,” Eddie taps the back of her hand with his free one and unravels their intertwined fingers. Eddie rises and walks to the door. Y/N stays back for a second, not yet ready to leave this room, this trailer, or this surreal moment.

“Y/N,” Eddie smirks from the doorway. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Y/N quietly nods and follows him. She silently grabs her things from the kitchen and follows Eddie out the door. She walks over to the van and hears the grass crunch beneath her feet. As she waits for Eddie to lock the trailer door and unlock the van, she looks around and sees the glare of the yellow street lights cast over the metal of the trailer.

The two climb into the van and Eddie starts the car. He puts a tape into the deck and pulls out of the trailer park. Y/N watches his slender fingers on the steering wheel as the shadows dance across them.

She feels solemn as he drives her back home. She doesn’t want to be going home and leaving Eddie just yet. She doesn’t want this to be the last time she ever rides in his van or hears his heavy metal blasting through the speakers. 

The trailer park is all the way in East Hawkins, so the drive to her house is long, but not long enough.

“That wasn’t too bad, right?”

“What wasn’t too bad?” Y/N turns to look at Eddie with a red glow cast on his skin by the stoplight.

“Having to work with the freak,” Eddie points to himself, “On a simple chemistry assignment.”

“Eddie, you shouldn’t call yourself that. You’re not a freak.”

“Yeah, well that’s the thing about nicknames, they’re given to you and they’re pretty hard to get rid of,” Eddie shrugs.

“Well I don’t care. You’re not a freak to me. Annoying? Sure. A deranged metal head? Maybe. But definitely not a freak.”

Eddie chuckles and the sight of his joy makes Y/N smile.

“Eddie,” Y/N says as he turns into her subdivision. “Today was fun.”

He looks at her. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Y/N grins at him. “Maybe we can still do something fun… to celebrate a job well done on this assignment.”

“You want to?” Eddie looks at her from his peripheral vision.

“Yeah. If you do too.” Y/N smiles at her lap. She looks up and sees the houses leading up to her own. 

“Yeah, sure. You got anything in mind?”

As Eddie passes her house, she sees her fathers car in the driveway.

“My dad’s home,” Y/N says with alarm as Eddie parks in front of her house. “I think he’s inside already, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

“What?” Eddie shifts his body to face her and her frazzled state.

Y/N unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her backpack. “Are you free on Saturday?”

Eddie had plans with some of the boys from Hellfire club but they could wait. “I can be.”

Y/N looks from her house to Eddie. “Good. We’ll pick back up on this tomorrow, before class, okay?”

Eddie nods. Y/N looks at the dashboard and the time reads 6:58. She looks over her shoulder and sees no one standing outside her house or peeking through the blinds of the living room windows. 

She turns back around to face Eddie. She looks at him for a moment, gathering the nerve to do something she might end up regretting. Eddie notices and looks at her in confusion.

Okay, it’s now or never.

She grabs the back of his seat for leverage and leans over. She lightly places a hand on his neck for stability and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Goodnight Eddie,” she whispers inches away from his wide eyed and slack jawed face. 

She scrambles to get out of the van before he can even say anything. She shuts the door behind her and runs across the walkway to her front door. 

She opens the door and closes it behind her. To the right, her parents are loudly talking over some story on the news playing several feet from the left of her.

“I’m home,” Y/N shouts, “Gonna go to the restroom and I’ll be back down.” 

Her parents wave her off and Y/N excitedly pounces up the steps. She throws her backpack on the floor of her room and runs off to the bathroom across the hall.

She giggles at her reflection and brings her fingers to her lips. 

She doesn’t know what came over her, but it did. She kissed Eddie Munson, on the cheek though. But it’s the most she’s ever done in her life. 

She hopes he liked it but starts to worry he might not have. She shakes the worry out of her head and smiles. Little does she know, Eddie’s been dying to make a move but was 100% certain his advances would have been rejected. 

Y/N doesn’t know what any of this means for her and Eddie, but it thrills her nonetheless.

She keeps her composure throughout dinner, but once she excuses herself to go do homework in her room, she closes the door behind her, lays on her bed, and screams into her pillow with glee.

She climbs out of bed and turns on her portable radio. Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears plays and she begins dancing around her room. Her eyes land on a hairbrush on her dresser. She grabs it and uses it as a microphone while singing to herself in the mirror. 

When the chorus comes back on, she lies back on her bed and sings:

 Something happens and I'm head over heels

I never find out until I'm head over heels

Something happens and I'm head over heels

Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart

Don't, don't, don't throw it away

“Y/N,” Y/N’s sister yells as she opens the door. Y/N scrambles to sit up and looks at her in embarrassment. 

“Turn that crap down,” she says as she walks over and lowers the volume. “It’s annoying as hell.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at her sister as she walks out of the room and leaves the door open. 

“Can you at least close the door?” Y/N yells over at her in the hallway. 

Moments like this are what make Y/N wish she had a walkman. 

Y/N spends the rest of her evening completing homework for other classes while intermittently replaying the time she just spent with Eddie. 

By the time she lays in bed, ready to go to sleep, visions of Eddie behind his guitar or his big brown eyes and bright smile flash across her mind. Her heart can’t wait to see him again tomorrow. She doesn’t know what they’ll do next time they hang out either, but all that matters is that she’s with him.

It’s weird, feeling the way she does. And a part of her almost feels silly. How did this boy just come into her life and already made this much of an impact? 

Y/N doesn’t understand her attraction to the deranged metalhead and in a similar way, Eddie doesn’t understand his attraction to the smartypants girl next door, but the both of them are eager to find out why.