#color changing bong
Text
feels better like this (high!spencer)
gif by @imagining-in-the-margins
NSFW 18+ minors DNI
put your age in your bio this is a fucking threat
your pretty boyfriend, spencer, tries smoking weed for the first time and it turns into whining and shaking hands
wc: 5.6k (whoops)
a/n: idc that some of this is cliche if you don't like it look away and it’s not proof read but i’m not sorry
cw: weed, intoxicated sex, p in v, oral (f! receiving), thigh fucking, unprotected sex, established relationship, praise
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ .
laughing as you unlock the door to your shared apartment, spencer puts his hand on your lower back and follows you inside. you’re both dressed for hotch’s birthday party, which he really didn’t want.
you have on a light blue dress, made of shiny satin. it’s a midi dress, which isn’t really normal for you. you’re more of a pants kind of person, but spencer has been telling you how beautiful you look all night. he’s wearing tan slacks and a button-down that’s a similar color to what you have on.
with his hand still on the small of your back, spencer pulls you in for a kiss; it’s soft and slow. you both smile into it as you pull away, he smells like his cologne.
“i need to change, i’ll be right back,” you say and walk towards your shared bedroom. you decide on a star wars t-shirt of spencer’s and blue plaid pajama pants that are also his. spencer doesn’t mind at all when you wear his clothes.
going to the kitchen, you find spencer leaning against the counter with a glass of water. he smiles and raises his eyebrows when he sees what you have on.
“you look..really good in my clothes,” he replies.
he does the same thing you did, goes to change clothes. when he comes back he has a black t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants.
“you also look really good in your clothes, just so you know.” he laughs at your comment and follows you to your living room. “is it okay if i smoke, spence?”
“oh, yeah! for sure,” he says and kisses your head. your smoking stuff is casually sitting on the end table on the left side of your couch. your grinder is already full from earlier and you take the bowl off your bong to pack. spencer looks at you, his eyes soft and filled with admiration for you. you put the full bowl onto your bong that you cleaned earlier in the day. you've been smoking around spencer the whole time you've been together; you used to hide the frequency though, for fear he would think its too much and not like you anymore. spencer didn't care how often you smoked he just wants you to be who you want to be without regard to what other people think. he's never, not once, asked to participate in the action but you had assumed it was because he wasn't interested. I mean, the whole team has heard his whole "six minutes are taken off your life per cigarette" ramble. you wonder if he knows statistics like that about smoking weed.
you look towards him and try to decode his thoughts as he’s watching you. “do..do you want to try?” you ask.
“oh..i’ve never..,” he says shyly with blood rushing to his face with a tiny bit of embarrassment. he really feels like he should have already done this at 26.
“really? you spent so much time like, in college. long enough for three doctorates and you’ve never smoked weed?”
he shakes his head and looks at you. he's really hoping you're not going to make fun of him. its never been that he didn't want to or he thought badly of people who did smoke.
“yes, really. no one ever offered, honestly. which i understand, i mean i definitely didn’t look like i’d say yes. i also didn’t really ‘hangout’ with anyone who smoked. what about me says i was friends with the 'cool kids?'"
“i guess i never really thought about it. but i cleaned the bong earlier. so it’s not gross or anything, do you want to try it? with me? i’ll be nice, i promise. i assumed you’d already tried and didn’t like it.”
“yeah. i’ll try but i don’t really know what i’m doing.” he feels relief that you didn't say anything mean or do anything but ask a genuine question.
“you’ve seen me do this dozens of times at this point. but watch me again now and i’ll help you for your turn.”
he nods and watches as you light the lighter and tuck your hair behind your ear. you light the bowl and pull smoke into the chamber, you lift the bowl out to inhale. you smile at spencer during your exhale.
“do that again. you’re pretty..show me again.”
you do as he says but a little slower so he can see each step, very simple steps. he studies you closely and is identifying the mechanics of how it works, its obviously not complicated but he feels better knowing what should happen.
“here. your turn. do you want me to light it for you? that’s not an uncommon thing for someone’s first time.”
he smiles, again. “yeah..that’d be nice, i think.” you hand him the piece and he puts his pretty lips in the top just as you did and looks up at you with his gorgeous eyes. you light the bowl and watch as your boyfriend takes his first hit. you make sure to stop him quickly so he doesn’t take too much and choke. he exhales and looks at you with watery eyes.
“oh, god that burns,” he says and turns away from you to cough a few times. you hurry to get him his water and bring it to him. you don't laugh at him at all because you know the feeling of embarrassment of something laughing at you after the burning pain in your lungs.
“here, take a drink. i know it burns, im sorry. it is hot smoke though.” that makes him laugh, again, with the bong in your hands again you take your turn and look at him with a questioning look afterward as you offer it to him again, eyebrows rising in surprise when he nods and takes it from your hands.
“want me to light it for you again, baby?”
“yes, please.”
you repeat this process but this time he handles it much better and manages to exhale smoothly before calmly taking another drink of water. it soothes the burning in his throat but his eyes still water. “again?” you ask him. spencer nods and puts his mouth back in position to hit the bong again.
your pretty boyfriend takes a little baby hit before grinning and passing the bong to you. the bowl is cashed so you empty it and pause to ask spencer if he’d like to pack it. you think it’d be cute to watch him get kinda the whole experience. you’re not going to let him smoke more than 1 or 2 more hits. at least until he has a few moments to feel his reaction. you're honestly scared he's going to freak out and not enjoy himself at all but so far he just seems happy, giddy even.
“you wanna pack it, spence? it really isn’t my favorite thing to do. and obviously it’s easy, here, take this.”
his hands shake a little with what you assume must be nervousness about messing something up. “spencer, you’re not going to do anything wrong? go ahead, baby. just put the flower in there for me and put in place.”
he does it exactly what you say; he didn’t spill anything and looks at you for approval. you give him a big smile and observe him place the bowl back where it belongs.
it’s your turn and you feel spencer’s hand on your thigh as you inhale and exhale. you repeat while spencer looks at you, mesmerized. he looks at you like you put all of the stars in the sky and for him you might as well have. he's never felt so comfortable with someone before.
“your turn, again. try to light it yourself, yeah?”
“okay,” he says before accepting the lighter you’ve offered him. he does it all by himself, perfectly, of course. he does everything perfectly. you nod for him to do it again. he coughs after this one and to make him feel better you make yourself a little uncomfortable with your next hit so you cough too. by the time you’re done hacking, spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your thigh.
“i do believe, im high now,” he tells you and then asks, “are you done? i like watching you, even coughing. your eyes look beautiful right now, actually.”
you shake your head no and spencer turns his attention to the TV for a little while as you finish up. his hand is spread out on your thigh now, moving up and down. his touch makes your stomach do flips and crave more.
you put the bong down and turn to face him. “will you kiss me, spencer?” the unfamiliar feeling is fogging up his mind a little so he doesn’t hesitate for a second before pressing your lips together.
the kiss is needy and spencer feels like you’re touching him everywhere but he wants more anyway. you crawl onto his lap and sit down, pushing him back against the couch. your hands are in his hair as you tug just a little. spencer lets out a small moan into your kiss and leans his head back, allowing you access to his neck.
filled with delight you start to kiss below his jaw and move down his neck. usually spencer is worried about you leaving marks on his throat because of work. but when you switch to the other side and start sucking on his flesh to mark him as yours he doesn’t protest. he does the exact opposite of protest and groans as he grabs your hips. spencer doesn’t curse very often but right now he’s letting a quiet slur of stuttering “fuck”s out of his mouth even though he’s biting his lip to try not to. spencer can usually contain himself and insists he reacts "appropriately" to your touch. you move back to his lips and soon your tongue is moving slow against his. after a few moments he pulls away to catch his breath.
“being touched by you feels so good right now..i.. don’t even know what to do with myself,” he whispers in the crook of your neck.
you’re high too and feel the same way, his hands on your hips are sending radiating heat to your core and when he touches your thighs you get butterflies. this is how it usually starts but he's being much more touchy than normal; you have no complaints.
“you don’t have to do anything. let me make you feel good, spencer..”
he whimpers at the thought of it and eagerly nods. “what are you gonna do?”
“nothing here. let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” you take his hand and he trails behind you to your bedroom.
“get on the bed, baby,” you instruct.
you remove his pajama pants from yourself and go to straddle him again. his hands find your thighs again and he grips them as you grind down against him.
he won’t stop releasing tiny little whimpers that are driving you crazy, he’s looking at you in a way that seems like begging. you’re still grinding on him and you feel him start to get hard against you.
“awe, there we go,” you tease “you like that, spence?” you speed up your movements a little and he gasps.
“answer me, spencer.”
“yes. yes i like it. don’t stop, you’re so fucking hot. i’m so obsessed with your thighs. you’re so soft and, fuck, it feels amazing.”
“my thighs? you like them?”
“mhm, so much. love to touch them”
you have an idea. “do you wanna touch them in a..different way?”
he’s still whining at the movements you’re making on top of him and he doesn’t ask you to explain just nods.
you move back a little and slip your hand under his waist band. he groans loudly as your fingers touch him for the first time tonight. “take your shirt off.”
he does as he’s told and bucks his hips up into your hand. you don’t give him anything more than you already are just trailing your fingers up and down his length, swiping your thumb across his tip. you get off of him and tug at his waistband, he gets the hint and removes his pants and boxers before he lays down and you crawl back onto him.
you settle down like you might start to ride him but instead you very softly settle spencer’s length between your soft thighs. he whines your name and thrusts himself between them further trying to get friction. you smile at him, in amusement.
“that’s exactly what i was talking about..you wanna fuck my thighs, spence?” you lean forward and ask in his ear.
“oh my god. please? please let me do that. how do i do that? you want it?” he’s flustered and babbling, lacking his usual conciseness. “yeah, i want it. why else would i offer? i wanna see you lose it over being between a part of me that isn’t inherently sexual, you know? like…if i liked your hands a lot. you’d let me use your hand to get off and i..im gonna let you fuck my thighs until you cum all over them.” spencer is looking at you with wide eyes. he didn’t expect you to say so many words but your answer has his length throbbing and his brain at a loss for words.
“how about i let you do it from behind? you can slide yourself right in between them, would you like that?”
spencer’s head is spinning and all he can think about is how much he wants to feel you like that. he’d never thought about it before but now? he’d do anything at the moment to press his cock between your plush legs and feel you in such a different, intimate, way—in a way no one else has had you. he nods again and looks at you with pleading eyes.
“spence, that’s not really an answer. how do you want me, baby? i wanna make you feel so good for your first time like this.”
he whines because he just wants to feel you but chokes out “please..from behind?”
“that’s what i was hoping you’d want,” you say with confidence.
spencer tugs off your shirt and watches as you settle on the bed. you keep pillows under your arms and keep your legs together. he runs his hands down your body and takes special care to tease the inside of your thighs. you moan as he drags his fingers through your warmth, using it to coat his cock and groaning something about how wet you are as he spreads it onto your thighs as well.
spencer eases himself between your thighs, cursing and snapping his hips forward. he slowly moves back and forth between them as his grip on your body tightens a little. all he can think about is how he’s so glad you had this idea because it feels like his body is burning with pleasure that pulses through him. he regrets never trying this with you before and would love to do it again. it feels better like this.
“why.. have you never gotten me high and had sex with me until now,” he whines into your ear as he leans down. he's panting and being far more vocal than usual, saying your name and holding your hips tight. he's desperately pulling you back against his movements as he uses your soft thighs to pleasure himself.
you move your hand down towards your thighs and spencer thinks you’re going to try to get some relief for yourself but instead you use it rub over his tip each time it protrudes from between your soft flesh. spencer’s hips stutter and you feel his hand shaking against your lower back. he's completely lost in the moment and with you; absolutely drowning in the way you make him feel. he's so worked up and can't catch his breath but wants to feel you closer. you’ve never seen or felt him act like this during sex. the shaking and whining is honestly a huge compliment and makes you feel accomplished and happy that you could do this for him.
“i’m so close. i’m so so close. fuck. can i cum on them? let me finish on your pretty thighs. let me claim them like that.”
the last phrase sends shiver through your body and you waste no time before telling him “yes, please do. that’s what i’m here for tonight, spence.”
even though he hasn't even touched you where you want him you're bordering on dripping wet for him and he can see the glistening in the bedroom light.
he moans your name and within seconds he’s spurting pretty white ropes on your ass and thighs. he’s fucking up into his hand and it’s a gorgeous sight to see looking over your shoulder. he's whimpering by the time he finishes and you turn around to do a quick swipe of your tongue from bottom to top; this makes him pull away in overstimulation but gently run his fingers through your hair.
he lays down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. his face is flushed and his hair is disheveled. when he can breath again he turns off to kiss you, it’s soft and hesitant just because he doesn’t know if you want something from him. he wants to give you something and he runs his hands down your sides again.
“isn’t it your turn?” spencer says as he starts to kiss your neck and chest, his hand moves down to touch just outside of where you need him. he's marking you as his in another way now; sucking on your collarbone and basically purring in your ear in anticipation.
“yeah, i guess it is. what did you want to do?”
“i want you on my tongue. i want to taste you, i can’t even imagine what that would be like right now. will you let me?”
you press your thighs together at the thought, trying to feel anything at the moment because you want him so badly. you love when he's articulate with his words and sure of himself when he asks consent.
you nod and he moves his kisses to your chest and pauses to play with your left nipple with his right hand and put the other one in his mouth. he sucks and soothes the skin with his tongue, little touches of his teeth have you whining for him. he finds your impatience very attractive. he wants you to need him.
he kisses even lower, stopping at the top of your thighs to admire them and spreading them further apart to make room for him. he uses his thumb to lightly expose more of you to himself. wetness coats his thumb as he teases up and down from your clit to your entrance.
“so, so pretty,” he says under his breath. you look down at him just in time to see him suck his thumb clean and make eye contact with him. “mmm,” he hums in approval, “taste so good, pretty girl."
you blush and watch as he licks a wide strip from bottom to top of your sex. the feeling sends shivers down your spine. spencer prods deeper into your heat and meets your clit. he does soft, almost massaging, movements with his tongue. he gently envelops your bundle of nerves with his mouth and confidently slides his tongue against every place he can.
your thighs start to close around him but he holds them back open, lapping up your wetness like it’s his only job in the world to make you orgasm. he’s thorough and presses one finger to your entrance, he looks up at you for approval and smiles when you buck your hips, nod and whine all at once. he’s never said it before but he loves when you fall apart for him, he daydreams about it at work. it’s what he thinks about in hotel rooms at night when he’s alone. right now his mind is filled with nothing but you, your hands in his hair and the warmth of your body around him. he’s obsessed with learning your body and always has been but right now? his body is filled with the need to make you cum.
he presses his finger up inside you and finds the spot he knows makes your legs shake and your breath hitch in your throat. he moves slowly inside you, really taking his time to gauge your reactions. you’d think spencer would get more sloppy or impatient or maybe even lazy as he’s high but none of that happened. if anything it increased his patience in his acts. he looks up at you with glossy eyes and smiles against you when you blush at his gaze.
he moves his tongue down your folds and carefully licks around his fingers that are stretching you open and prodding against your walls with delicious fervor. he finds his way back to your clit and closes his eyes to focus on sucking and licking at your bud in his mouth trying to push you closer to the edge. it’s working and within the minute you’re moaning his name and cursing under your breath — all he can focus on is you you you how he needs you. your taste, your sounds and warm skin flood his senses.
he feels you tighten around his fingers and hears the whimper you let out right before you’re feeling white hot pleasure course through you from your center. you’re throbbing by the end and spencer still isn’t stopping. you whine and half heartedly try to push his head away.
“too much, spence. ‘m too sensitive,” you say.
he stops just long enough to look into your eyes and say “i don’t care. i’m enjoying myself and i know you like it when i make you feel so good you cry.”
your orgasm made even more slick gather and coat his hand. he keeps his assault of your most sensitive places steady while you start to lose yourself in his touch. his hands splayed across your thighs with his finger tips holding you tightly in place have you dizzy with want.
your second climax is quickly approaching and you pray that spencer doesn't take it away from you. he's not one for orgasm denial, he certaintly prefers overstimulation. it washes over you and you're babbling his name; unable to form other words. your hips are trying to buck up against his face but he holds you steady and lets you ride out your pleasure on his tongue. you're not crying though, so he isn't done with you.
"i want you, spencer. please use me to get off. i'll let you do whatever you want. you're always so good to me, let it be your turn again. what will make you feel best?"
he's amused that you're worried about him in this situation as if your pleasure doesn't have his head spinning and his heart racing. it took everything in him not to grind against the bed when he was eating you out. he felt that would be selfish though and knew you'd want to help him. you're still trying to catch your breath and he's still rubbing all over your thighs. he continues to trail over the top and underneath and on all parts of your bikini line. he's such a goddamn tease but doesn't answer your question he just looks at you, waiting for you to say something else.
"do you want to smoke more, spence?"
he tries to hide his surprise and excitement but ultimately fails. he handled the first round really well and you decide he can likely handle more this time around.
"do you want to smoke more? its your stuff, baby. you dont have to share."
"quit being silly. everything else that's mine is yours…my body is yours and you're worred about a bowl or two to make you want me even more?"
he nods in agreement and blushes. he takes it upon himself to leave the bedroom and bring your things back in from the living room. you're both still naked and it feels more intimate like this, spencer never lets you feel self conscious and you do the same for him. neither of you are embarassed or worried about it in this moment. he gives you a soft kiss before he smiles and says,
"i've brought you a gift." he gives you the bong, its pink by the way and the bowl is heart shaped.
he already knows what to do this time and is far less nervous. you take the piece from him and get to work filling the bowl with ground flower from your grinder, that is also pink and has a heart on top. he waits patiently and just spends time memorizing your features.
your hair is messed up and so is his but he really believes you look beautiful; he thinks you're perfect and can't wait to get his hands on you again and feel you writhe underneath him. he shakes his head trying to focus on something other than the dirty thoughts hes having about you like the way you'll beg for his cock, how your legs shake when he's done with you and the marks that'll be left tomorrow.
you let spencer smoke as much as he thinks he can handle in comparison to last time; he still coughs and needs his water everytime but you're kind of impressed by his perseverance. he keeps up with you mostly, until your last few inhales when he watches you with low red eyes. he feels almost dizzy but in a good way and wants to be in you really really badly, he cant think of another way to describe it and thats how he knows he's right where he needs to be for what happens next.
again, he teases and touches your inner thighs and trails the crease between them; obviously trying to have some effect on you and it works. he knows just how to touch you to make you want all of him. as you finish up his touching becomes more insistent and maybe more suggestive as he slowly moves closer and closer to where you need him.
"you all done, pretty girl? gonna let me touch you again?"
you nod eagerly and pull him on top of you as you lean back on the pillows on the bed before meeting his lips with yours. the kissing gets intense fast, with his hands touching you a little less softly as he's filled with need. you're rutting up against the thigh he has resting between yours and nip at his bottom lip gently as he pulls away to look into your eyes.
"i want you in me, spencer. i've been waiting all night. waiting since you started looking at me hungrily at that party. i know you were thinking about me like this instead of fully clothed sitting on your lap in front of all of your friends."
he groans at your words and gives in to you, no longer teasing after the way you're talking to him. he's still on top of you as he trails his fingers down your throat then stomach and finally resting with a thumb on your bundle of nerves. he presses light circles and slowly slides two fingers in that you take with ease. he decides that you're wet enough and you've never minded a little discomfort at first anyway. you beg him to move even if it hurts a little.
spencer lines up with your entrance and very, very slowly enters you as he throws his head back in pleasure and grabs your hip hard enough it might leave bruises tomorrow. he can hardly stop himself from taking you roughly right there like his fucked up brain wants him to. insead, he holds back and begins moving in and out at a slow, steady pace. his movements spread your wetness over him and soon he's bottomed out. hes so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach as he presses against your walls. he feels you clenching down on him and he swears under his breath.
'fuck. fuck, you're so tight. god, and warm. feels so good."
he's still moving slowly in you and you're starting to feel impatient. but rushing spencer isn't something that really happens; he loves to take his time with you like this until you're begging for his cock to move faster inside you. he sees your glossy eyes begging for him without saying a single word.
"awe, does my baby want more? say please."
"please. please fuck me. i've been so good and have done everything you've said."
he hums in agreement and says nothing as he speeds up and changes the angle of his thrusts slightly as he fucks into you. you keep tightening around him and its driving him crazy, he can't get enough of you. his hands are shaking again as he holds himself up with one and massages your breast with the other. his hands splay wide across your skin and his hair hangs down in his face just a little while he moves inside you.
his pace is still steady and his hips only falter when he hits something in you that makes you tighten around him and arch your back into his touch. soon his length is touching perfectly against that sweet spot in you that makes your head spin and your hands desperately grab for the sheets or spencer in general.
he switches to something much faster and quickly your nails are scratching long lines across his back, hard enough his back will sting tomorrow and he might wince at the feeling of his shirt rubbing against the wounds you've left him with; he'll like it though and grin to himself as he thinks about the way he had you the night before.
with your nails dragging down his flesh in needy bliss, spencer can't even think to talk you through it like he normally would. he's hardly ever at a loss for words but he's high and doesn't know how to cope with all the sensations he's feeling. what he knows should feel like pain against his skin, your scratches, feels like pleasure that spreads through his entire body; with his existence aflame from your touch.
he's lost all sense of the words "soft" and "rough" and is focused on pushing you over the edge again. he's getting close again but is trying to hold back until he pulls another orgasm from your overwhelmed body. the sound of skin hitting skin is filling the room as well as your pleas and unending moans of your lover's name. his hand intertwines with yours as he wrecks you just like you wanted. you wanted spencer to be a little reckless, a little thoughtless in the process of tonight's sex.
thinking about the way he whined and whimpered between your thighs earlier is pushing you closer and closer as a knot in your stomach tightens. spencer's fingers find your clit and rub quick small circles in the way he knows you like. he's pulling you apart at the seams and doing everything he can to coax your orgasm from you before he finishes himself. since you've gotten together he's learned how to get you to let go completely and surrender yourself to how he makes you feel.
his breathing is heavy and he knows a few words will be enough to make you unravel under him.
"come on, angel. I can feel you're close, let go for me. come on, let go. you're such a good girl, do what I tell you and cum around my cock. let me feel you."
his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he practically begs you to finish so he can too.
"you want me to cum in you? want me to fill you up? i wont until you finish under me."
you desperately want to feel him pulsing and filling you so you focus and close your eyes underneath him. normally, he would tell you to open them and look at him when he's dragging you off the edge towards more white hot bliss. warmth spreads through your body, all the way to your fingertips as you start to lost contact with the real world. your climax washes over you in waves that match the pulsing spencer feels from you.
your orgasm is enough to send him reeling over his own ledge as his thrusts start to turn irratic and lose uniformity. he moans into the kiss you pull him down into and he stops moving completely to pump his cum into you. towards the end he moves his hips slowly against yours, grinding into you and fucking his seed further into you. you hum in approval until he pulls out which leaves you feeling empty and forces a whine and frown out of you.
"baby, don't pout right now. I'll give you more later, or tomorrow, or both if you want. we need to do that more. you looked so beautiful, do you know that? absolutely perfect losing touch with reality under me."
he falls onto the bed beside you and opens his arms for you to rest against his chest. he's moderately sticky with sweat but you don't care, just loving the physical contact spencer allows you to have at this moment. you start to drift off into sleep to the soothing sound of your boyfriend's heartbeat. he softly rouses you away and reminds you that you need to pee after sex, "to prevent a UTI, of course." you groan but pull yourself off of him as you tread to the bathroom, spencer's cum threatening to leak out of you and run down your thighs.
spencer enters the bathroom a few minutes to ask if you'd like to shower with him.
"i wasn't super gentle with you this time, let me take care of you and clean you up."
who are you to deny him caring for you like he wants to? it feels better to give him what he wants.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#criminal minds smut#high!spencer#mgg x reader#tw weed#cam writes ᡣ𐭩
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girls like girls, like boys do ; ellie williams
pairing bff!ellie williams x female!reader
synopsis you and ellie have been bestfriends for all of your teenage years. while you bounced around from boy to boy, ellie was left to pine over you alone. little did she know that, all along, the only person you wanted was her.
genre slight violence (blood, fighting, arguments), mentions of weed and alcohol, homophobia both internal and harassment, lots of fluff, loosely based off of the girls like girls music video by hayley kiyoko!
wc 3.9k (i got carried away)
“come on, ellie stop being a hog!” you reached for the glassy object resting between your best friend's legs. her hands wrapped around the base tightly despite her intoxicated state, making your fight even more difficult.
the two of you sat perched on your bathroom counter, your smooth legs lying across ellie’s jean-clad knees. her typical jean and opened short-sleeve button-up combo paled in comparison to your short floral skirt and white top. many couldn’t believe how close you and ellie were. her being known as the “school’s lesbian” and you being known as the "all-star cheerleading captain” didn’t put the two of you in the same crowds at all, but you couldn’t imagine your life without her there to constantly annoy you. as she was doing now.
“i’m not a hog! just don’t want you to get too fucked up.” her head lolled to the side, looking at you through an intoxicated gaze. her freckled cheeks grew flushed under the low lights of the bathroom while her eyes continued to sparkle as they always did, just now tinted red and droopy.
“says the one who can hardly keep her head up.” you argued before finally grasping the colorful bong in between your manicured fingers. to your surprise, ellie didn’t snap back, only igniting her purple lighter and helping you pull.
ellie couldn’t help but eye you as your glossed lips kissed the top, your pretty lashes brushing against the tops of your cheeks as you closed your eyes contently. you could feel her eyes practically burning holes into your head, opening one eye to peek at her as you pulled away to inhale completely.
ellie noticed the smile pulled on your closed lips before she realized you had caught her completely checking you out. “something bothering you, els?” you questioned as you blew the smoke out from between your lips.
she looked away to stare at your patterned shower curtain. the same one the two of you sat against most nights you spent together doing the same things you were doing now.
ellie had liked you for a long time. she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t completely enamored by you; whether it was platonic or not, she always loved you. maybe it was the way you two had been spending more time together or the fact you decided to be alone with her than at your party that made her heart lurch in her throat and beg to escape in the form of a confession, but something had shifted.
you two had smoked together plenty of times, but recently her stomach erupted into butterflies at the somewhat “kiss” you two exchanged while sharing joints or passing your bong between the two of you.
you two had changed in front of each other all the time, but recently she couldn’t help but turn and dip her head when she saw you reach for the hem of your blouse to change into your pajamas. even more so when you insisted on wearing one of her lousy band tees instead of your own since hers were “so much more comfy."
“els? what’s up?” your soft hand met the smooth skin of her wrist, breaking her from her daydream. “o-oh… it’s nothing. just dazed out, i guess.” she pulled away to scratch the back of her neck sheepishly, breaking the contact between you two.
you furrowed your brows in confusion. ellie had never been this awkward with you, especially when she’s high. sure, she wasn’t the most poetic with her words, but you never felt awkward with her. ever.
you observed her as her eyes scattered across your bathroom, beginning to grow embarrassed and worried about what was going on in her mind that you couldn’t quite seem to read at the moment.
you had never cared how ellie perceived you, knowing she liked you no matter what. recently, though, you cared a lot about how ellie saw you. when you’d get ready, you'd think about what ellie liked. remembering she always complimented when you wore skirts, those are what you reached for that week and tonight. you wanted her to think of you as you did of her.
you couldn’t help the uproar of thoughts that spun around your head like a curse, screaming to be spoken. “you wanna go back out there? dina should be here by now, and we should greet her.” you hopped off the counter, turning to face ellie, who still sat in place.
she finally averted her gaze to you at the sound of your voice, her eyes visibly softening as they connected with yours. “you… you look really pretty tonight.” she stuttered slightly, trying her best not to break eye contact. it was always so hard for her to look at you without melting into a puddle beneath her feet.
you blushed, instantly taken aback by her words. you leaned forward, placing both hands on the granite countertop beside ellie’s leg. “you look really pretty too, els.” you looked up at her slightly, the counter having given her height she didn’t have when she stood next to you.
you don’t know if it was all your feelings towards ellie or the weed in your system that led you to be so bold in the moment, but she just made it so hard.
you had many boyfriends in the past. all of them falling lower and lower onto your “tier of dickheads” (ellie’s nickname for every one that broke your heart) as they came and went.
you had grown up with the idea that you had to date boys. it’s all you saw, and it’s all you've ever known. you knew gay people existed, but you never mentioned them as much as you knew the consequences. many people in your town grew up the same way as you did, believing being straight was “normal” or even “acceptable” for someone to be.
you knew you should have liked it when your boyfriend kissed you, but you just couldn’t. kissing and touching just seemed to be a requirement in the realm of dating. sure, some of them were nice, but you liked to just be able to hang out without their tongue shoved down your throat just because you were their girlfriend.
when you met ellie and found out she was gay, your view of her didn’t change; she was still ellie. most people stuck up their noses at you or called you “crazy” but you wouldn’t trade their fake tans and cheep perfume for ellie any day.
to your own defense, it wasn’t ellie who made you realize you liked girls. you had always found girls pretty—prettier than your friends ever expressed. you always found yourself staring at the victoria secret ads in the mall for far too long just because they were "pretty".
even if ellie wasn’t the girl who made you realize you liked girls, she was definitely the girl you liked.
“i see her as more than a friend,” you continued to tell yourself as you began to doubt yourself in the late hours of the night. the internalized homophobia ate you alive at any chance you get to have alone, but in this moment with her in the bathroom, all the doubts faded into knowing. you knew how you felt.
you don’t know how long you and ellie stared at each other or when the two of you began to slowly lean in, but a loud bang on the door interrupted the peaceful moment.
“dude, hurry up! this bitch is about to puke!” you shoved your bong into the cabinet beneath the sink before opening the door to reveal two of your classmates clearly drunk beyond repair.
“oh my god, okay, okay!” you yelled at the barely recognizable faces as you reached behind yourself to grab ellie’s hand and pull her out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
ellie held onto your hand tightly as you weaved between sweaty bodies and crowded groups amongst your home. thankfully, everyone was too drunk or high to even notice you and ellie holding hands and walking so closely.
you felt a tug on your wrist as you rounded an empty corner nestled between your kitchen and the front door. you turned to see ellie smiling at you softly. “where are we going?” she asked as you dropped her hand. a faint pout appeared on her lips.
“honestly,” you began as you leaned against the wall to stare ahead at her. “i have no idea. i just wanted to get away from that bathroom before i got puke on my skirt.” you huffed, annoyed that you and ellie’s quiet moment had to be interrupted by someone who couldn’t handle their drinks.
ellie laughed at your words, turning her body so she leaned next to you against the wall. “of course your only concern is if your clothes get dirty.” she laughed, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.
you looked down at her with fake shock. ellie always liked to pick at your very feminine actions. curling your hair, doing your makeup, tying bows in your hair—she liked to tease you for these things even if she watched in complete awe as you did them.
“you know i don’t mean it; c'mere, i'm all alone down here.” her cold hand wrapped around the skin of your calf, urging you to sit next to her. you had to swallow the scream, which threatened to spill from her hand practically burning into your soul.
you sat down, knees bumping softly, to end up resting against another. maybe it was the weed in your system, but every sense was enhanced by a thousand. the rough fabric of her jeans against your exposed skin made your body ignite with goosebumps. her toned arm brushing against yours made your chest light on fire.
“how would you feel if someone puked on your clothes?” you argued in an attempt to cool yourself down. anything to distract yourself from the overwhelming feelings churning in your stomach.
“this isn’t about me, princess.” she nudged you with her shoulder, making your body fall over slightly. you sat up and pushed her roughly, but her body hardly budged, causing a smirk to appear on her lips once again.
“you’re such a dick,” you scoffed, turning your back towards her as if you’re a toddler getting denied a toy from the store. ellie laughed at your childish antics, reaching out to grab your shoulder and make you turn around, but you just shrugged her off.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. please forgive me.” she begged, moving closer to try and face you again. even if you were pretending, ellie hated when you were mad at her (fake or not) more than anything.
you could see her auburn hair from the corner of your eye, causing you to turn your head slightly to side-eye her. "mhmm," you hummed before looking away again.
without another word, ellie grabbed your shoulder tightly and pulled herself away, so she now sat beside you. leaving you nowhere else to look but at her, which, evidently, was more than a difficult task.
“are you really upset with me?” even with the low lighting, you could still see the genuine concern in her eyes. you were shocked by her, only able to shake your head “no” with a small smile creeping onto your lips.
strands of her short hair hung perfectly messy in her face as they fell from her small knot on the back of her head. her lips looked softer than any sweater blanket that ever touched your body, and her hand on your shoulder felt warmer than the most perfect summer day.
you couldn’t take it anymore. you didn’t want to just look at her and imagine doing all the things you wanted to anymore. you needed them to happen before you exploded into nothing but ellie-shaped confetti.
“ellie-“
“y/n-“
you both flushed at the silliness of it all. here, the two of you sat completely infatuated with each other, cheeks pink and eyes in the shape of hearts, but still doubted if the other felt the same.
“can i kiss you?” ellie asked smoothly, catching you off guard at how easily it fell from her lips. ellie instantly panicked at the shocked expression on your face. she immediately scooted away and began apologizing. “i’m sorry… i-i don’t even know why i asked.”
“ellie,” you tried to calm her down as she began frantically searching for a way to ease the situation. you couldn’t watch her make a mess of herself over something you wanted her so badly to do.
“ellie.” you reached out and grabbed her face softly with one hand while the other came to rest on her knee. her face fell from concern to an unreadable expression. a mix between content and confusion.
you leaned in slowly, watching as her eyes quickly looked all over your face, trying to understand if this was real life or just a figment of her intoxicated imagination.
your nose bumped against hers, making you look into her eyes. “can i kiss you?” you exhaled, anxiously awaiting her reply. “please…” she breathed before you placed your lips softly against hers.
there was hardly any movement aside from both of your chests expanding and shrinking from letting go of held breaths and breathing in bigger and better ones as your lips connected. it was soft and short, ending before either of you could make another move.
“i really like you, ellie,” you confessed as your lips parted with a soft smack. “i’ve never liked someone like this before.” you continued, searching her eyes for a reply that she failed to give.
it’s like a switch flipped at your words. ellie reached up to hold the back of your head with her free hand, letting out a quick “thank god” before smashing her lips against yours.
this time, the kiss was heavy and felt less like a trial and more like a confession. her lips moved eagerly against yours, but they were not messy in the slightest. your hand pushed further up her cheek, leaving your thumb to brush against the freckles that littered her skin as the rest of your fingers knotted into her soft strands.
her hand, which lay beneath yours, maneuvered so that your fingers were interlocked tightly, squeezing ever so slightly to try and add emphasis to her feelings towards you.
you squeezed back, making her smile against your lips before tilting her head to kiss you deeper than before.
“what the fuck?” a deep voice pulled you and ellie apart quickly, making you stand up and face the group of people who now looked at you and ellie with mixed faces. most were shocked, while others held a look of disgust, especially the one in the front, which belonged to none other than your most recent ex-boyfriend.
“oh, so we broke up, and now you’re gay?” he gestures his arm out to ellie, who now stands behind you. more people flocked towards the commotion, making you and ellie the center of attention.
“that’s not…” you tried to argue, but you couldn’t think of something to say that could ease the situation. “what? no wonder you were always such a tease,” he began, walking and stalking towards you. his face grew increasingly red with anger.
“always leading me on and leaving me to fix my shit myself because you wanted to get with a homo? you wanna fuck her like a fucking fa-“ his words were cut off as ellie swung at his chiseled face, making you jump and cover your mouth to avoid screaming.
he stumbled at ellie’s force and grabbed his cheek, which began to turn pink with irritation from ellie’s blow. “oh wow, now you have your little girlfriend to defend you.” he laughed darkly as he looked between you and ellie with pure venom in his gaze.
before ellie or you could form a rebuttal, he swung at her face, resulting in an eruption of “oohs” from the crowd of people observing all around.
“ellie!” you screamed, attempting to help her as an arm wrapped around your shoulders, restricting you. your head turned to reveal dina behind you, preventing your attempted move.
“what are you doing?” you yelled at her as your ex and ellie began hitting each other over and over.
“don’t, just don’t. let’s get out of here.” she spoke into your ear as you watched and pulled on her arms, which held you firmly.
“ellie stop! please stop! someone make it stop!” you continued to scream as you watched the fight increase in severity as the seconds went by.
you didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away. with every swing he made, ellie made three, which filled you with some sort of relief before he did just as many hits back.
you clawed at dina’s arms, not caring if you hurt her, as you watched ellie get hurt by someone you claimed to even like. it made you want to puke.
“you think you can take her from me?” your ex growled as he swung at ellie, which she thankfully dodged. she laughed, wiping her bloodied knuckles on her white undershirt. “didn’t have to take what was already mine.” she sneered back, punching him once more directly in the nose.
you couldn’t help but gasp at her words. if it were any other situation, you would feel flattered, but in the moment, all you felt was fear. that had to have struck a nerve.
“you think you’re so funny, huh?” he muttered as blood trickled from his nose and into his mouth, painting his teeth red. “i mean, she sure thinks so.” ellie tried to bite back the nasty comment, but she was so completely enraged that he could even think to speak of you the way he did.
more shouts and whistles erupted from the crowd, ultimately showing their approval of ellie’s comment, even if they didn’t side with her entirely or even at all.
this just fueled his anger more, making him push ellie to the floor and punch her with much more force than he originally had. the sight made you grow silent in fear. you wanted to scream, but the pure shock in your veins rendered you mute.
your fight against dina’s arms only grew as you watched ellie face and body get repeatedly hit. “stop, please fucking stop.” you finally yelled as more and more people cheered and hollered without a care.
with one last tug, you finally freed yourself from dina’s grip and lurched towards the boy who continued to swing on ellie. you were never one with muscles, but some sort of strength took over you as you pulled his body off of ellie and into the wall.
you hit his stupid face over and over, so consumed with anger that you failed to notice dina rush to ellie’s side and pull her up. you couldn’t focus on anything but hurting this boy just as much as he had hurt you, and that included ellie.
you didn’t know how many hits you got or when the crowd began to disperse, but a firm grip on your waist removed you from the boy and planted you on the ground.
“come on, man, let’s get out of here!” a deep voice rang in your head, along with many other loud voices chanting to leave. your vision was blurry with tears, unable to make out any sort of movement, and all you could hear was a dull ring muffling the multitude of shouting voices.
all you felt were the cool tiles on the kitchen floor beneath your thighs and the hard wall behind your head before you felt a familiar hand grab your face.
“y/n are you okay? god, please tell me you’re okay.” ellie’s voice fell into your ears clearly, her soft thumb coming up to wipe the tears that began to spill from your eyes. you couldn’t form any words; you just reached out to grab her as tightly as you could.
feeling her skin on yours felt like a breath of fresh air, drowning out all your doubts knowing she was here and with you.
“i’m so sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.” you cried into her shirt, bunching some of her flannel into your bloody fist as you clawed at her back while you sobbed. “it’s not your fault.” ellie pulled your face back to look at you.
with your eyes finally coming into focus, you took in the multiple cuts and bruises scattered across her pretty face. her lip had a large gash on the side, along with her temple and cheek.
“don’t worry, he looks a whole lot worse.” she joked, trying to ease your visible worry. you laughed at her ability to joke at a time like this.
she wasn’t far off when she said you thought she was funny…
you grazed her wounds softly, not wanting to hurt her even more than she already was. "well, that’s good. i’d have to chase after him again if he weren’t,” you teased, your hand coming down to interlock with hers, which rested on your thigh.
you sat in silence, not knowing what to say. your house sounded a lot quieter; the only sound were voices coming in from outside and the humming of cars driving off.
“didn’t know you had that strength in you, pretty girl. where was all that when we were helping joel move boxes huh?” ellie joked yet again, making you roll your eyes.
“shut up.” you groaned before kissing her, doing your best to not hurt the cut on her lip. she kissed you back as if the cut were nonexistent, grabbing your waist under your battered shirt to pull you closer to her.
your knees came to rest on either side of one of her legs, letting yourself hover above her as you disconnected your lips from hers. this time, she just looked at you, waiting for you to speak.
“so… should we make his words come true?” you questioned her, toying with one of the buttons on her shirt. ellie looked at you quizzically, unsure of what you were implying.
you just grabbed her face for what felt like the thousandth time and kissed her quickly. “you’re so fucking cute.” you giggled at her, still confused. she grabbed your wrist, “trying” to pull your hands off her face.
“do you want to be my girlfriend?” you asked, ridded of any anxieties or doubts. she instantly erupted into giggles, pulling you into her and hugging you as tight as she could without bothering her hurt side.
“to think i had this whole plan to ask you out, and here you are asking me if i want to be your girlfriend after i just fought for your love.” ellie joked, rubbing your sides firmly as you pulled away and looked at her with nothing but shock.
“a plan? now you have to tell me, els.” you tilted your head to peer at her through squinted lids. she just shook her head and grazed one of her hands up your back to rest behind your head and rake through your hair.
“maybe tomorrow..." she drawled before connecting your lips once again, a content sigh leaving both of your lips in satisfaction.
“yeah, the explanation can wait.” you breathed, locking your lips with hers again.
notes first ellie and tlou fic AHHHH!!! i’ve wanted to write some ellie works for a long time but just haven’t had any inspo until recent hehe so here that. sorry it’s so long and not my best work, i just love this song w her and my ellie obsession has hit an all time High recently lol. anyway i hope you enjoyed!!<33
#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams angst#ellie williams au#the last of us#sapphic#lesbian#wlw#ellie the last of us#ellie x fem reader#ellie x y/n
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oooo but what about Doesn't-Know-He's-An-Incubus Eddie. like growing up his life was completely normal until he's older and starts having sex and he realizes he feels so.... strong.
This would be good too because the part I left out is him haunting comic book stores and tabletop game spaces because those girls are so desperate for a dude to not mansplain to them. They just want to be included and they know what they’re talking about and Eddie just loves teaching people. He’s like, the only dude who isn’t shooing them off or telling them they’re dumb. And it would get him so much ass.
Like picture it. He’s unaware of any actual power he might have. Probably got it from Al, that Munson charm he always wielded had to come from somewhere. Eddie would see these girls getting dragged around by boyfriends who could care less that they were there, if only to show the other dudes that ‘hey, I have a girlfriend and you don’t.’
He’d smile and ask them about their character sheet and next thing he knows he’s in the back of his van with her. He’s sliding into another random bed. He’s leaving after getting his world rocked enough that he feels like a brand new man. He’s finding people at the Hideout on terrible dates and suddenly he’s getting these little flashes of himself in the middle of getting his dick sucked. Nothing he’d ever seen, at least not from that angle, but they’re just brief rose tinted images.
It’d happen more and more, for longer periods. Someone’s babbling under him and he’s like, taken by visions. Sometimes it’s just him sometimes it’s someone else. Sometimes he’s just a polished version of himself, some kind of rockstar-model combo, but then he starts seeing it. That freak behavior.
“A tiefling? Really?” He asks mid stroke. He looms over her while staring through her. He can see the horns weaving through his hair. The deep purple skin and black eyes. A forked tongue flicks down at her with his grin bracketing it.
“Wh-what?” She’s breathless and gone. He shifts his gaze to catch her’s and he can’t. Eyes fogged over with lust, mist that settles over the color of her iris.
“Is this it, your big fantasy?”
“Uh huh.”
He leans in close pushing her knees into her chest. Spread open so vulnerably under him. He could eat her up and he doesn’t think she’d ever complain. Inches from her face he’s whispering to her, talking her to the edge of her pleasure. Writhing and shaking under him, nails digging into his biceps he barely notices the scratches or the draw of blood. He hasn’t noticed the change in his voice. There’s a baseline to it, something deep and reverberating and it almost strings her orgasm along longer.
When she finally comes down and unwinds from herself Eddie realizes he never came. There was a spell happening in the back of his van, something heady and new. He could snatch that image of himself out of thin air and tuck it away for later. It makes him chuckle while she’s trying to wiggle back into her jeans.
“So do you play as a tiefling or was that just something you came up with on the spot?” He’s buttoning his own jeans and doesn’t catch her giving him a weird look.
“What?”
“The…tiefling thing. Big purple guy?” The ‘me’ is implied but he doesn’t say it.
“I don’t-I’m not-“
“I’m not picking on you.” He’s quick to reassure but she looks confused, not hurt.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t think you were.” There’s a shy smile that she tries to hide. When he opens the door to help her step out she asks if he’ll be around for next weeks session. It’s unsaid but he catches the flash of the inside of his van.
“Sure.” He’s vibrating. His skin crackles and his blood sings. This feels better than any bong rip or bump he’s sniffed. There’s a tingling along his spine as he watches her walk away and he tries to figure out just what it was he was doing in the dark.
#this is a FOI blog btw sorry for the references#I just liked the book for a lot of things and I’m digging into my clay stash to mold#asks!
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starboy - atsumu miya x fem!reader
wc: ~5.8k
cw: fem reader, on-page drug use, alcohol consumption, the reader has red hair and hazel eyes (sorry, not sorry), reader blushes, and a little angst towards the end.
a/n: 18+ only please. I use “--” to switch POVs in this fic and “ – – –” is a time skip. I really hope you like this silly little AU! It’s giving Wattpad kid grows up and uses Tumblr and AO3 now. Sorry there’s no smut in this, but I might write a part 2 (please don’t ask for one because that’ll kill my vibes). If you’re interested in the playlist mentioned that they listen to, I’ll be happy to link it!
Part 2
—
Every crowd is the same, but somehow different in a multitude of ways. It’s a dichotomy that Atsumu hasn’t quite figured out yet. After years of touring and performing he thought he knew about everything about entertaining a crowd and getting them riled up. He’d sold out more than enough shows to back this idea up.
However, on night two of touring his third studio album, he notices you in the crowd. The glitter on your eyes falling to your cheeks reflects the stage lighting and draws him to your eyes. That’s when he notices your red hair, the burgundy red is a sight to see. He winks like he would to anyone else, but something in him yearns to walk back down the catwalk to you again. He resists, knowing he needs to keep doing his job.
But, he does look for you the next night.
He’s glad to see you’re back. He’s noticed fans going to multiple shows before and has invited them to the after-parties for being so loyal, so he thinks he wants to extend the offer. The other girls that seem to stick around are nice enough, and the band never seems to mind. When he’s changing between the third and fourth song of the night, he tells his manager to send someone out to see if you want to join them after the show.
He’s happy to hear back after the show that you accepted.
Outside the city limits, the rented house is big enough for hundreds of people to move around freely, but Atsumu got over massive parties after his first tour. The glamor of the drinking, drugs, and even the people he thought he loved being around seemed to lose their shine. With only about 30 people here now, he’s much more comfortable in this space.
From his seat on the velvet couch with his brother, he notices you come in; walking through the door in the same outfit you’d worn to his show tonight. The glittery lavender tube top is something to see, but his eyes linger on your legs, covered in iridescent shimmering tights under white shorts. Your smile and wave to another girl across the room makes him look away.
“How many more nights are we staying in LA?” Osamu asks his brother, taking a rip from the bong after. The smoke floats above the brothers, whirling in the colorful lavender lighting.
“Two more, then the tour really kicks off in the States.” He tells him, taking the bong from him and taking a hit.
He coughs after the smoke leaves his body and Osamu laughs at him. Atsumu has tried plenty, but he’s no longer used to the feeling. He takes a sip of water, leaning back on the couch and stretching his legs out on the table, careful to avoid Osamu’s stash.
“I think this will be better than even last time,” he tells him. “I’m glad you decided to come with me.”
Osamu shrugs, “I needed a break from the restaurant.”
He’s not staying the whole tour with Atsumu, just the first leg of the U.S. tour, and then flying back home during the busy season at the restaurant. Osamu has been at his brother’s side since his early days trying to get a studio just to listen to one of his tracks, and now he’s watched him grow into one of the biggest Jpop stars in the world. He’d never tell him, but he’s proud.
How Atsumu gained his fame is quite the story, hard to believe really. Who would have thought that a little karaoke fun would have led to all this? It still shocks Atsumu to this day. Every night he wonders when the crowds will lessen, when the tickets will stop selling out, and when this dream will all be over.
“Can we join you?” Your unfamiliar voice sounds like a song Atsumu wants to write, but he shakes it off.
He’s slept with fans, had his fill, and he’s too old for this now. Nothing is exciting about someone who would do anything for you just because they are obsessed with you, not because they know you… the real you.
It’s just the excitement for the new tour that’s getting to him.
“Of course,” Osamu answers before Atsumu can tell you and your friend to sit.
Atsumu ignores the irritation that washes over him as you sit beside Osamu, your thighs touching. He ignores the way Osamu smiles and drapes his arm over your shoulder. He ignores the sting in his chest that’s unlike anything he’s felt before.
He looks away as your friend sits on the couch beside him.
–
Your friend starts talking to him and you notice Atsumu engages her in a friendly manner, but he’s reserved. Something you hadn’t expected. His brother, on the other hand, isn’t shy. The way Osamu’s thumb rubs circles onto your soft skin is enough to drive you wild. However, you don’t want to be that girl.
“Do you always tour with your brother?” You ask, making conversation. You know he doesn’t, but that won’t stop you from playing the part.
“No, I’ve never joined him before,” Osamu tells you and you look past him to Atsumu, he’s engaged in conversation with the girl you met tonight.
Honestly, tonight feels like a fanfiction you read when you were younger, getting to meet the band after the show and potentially fucking the lead or another member. The lead singer’s brother isn’t exactly who you imagined this playing out with, but you’re old enough now to know life is rarely like it is in stories… even if you did get invited to your favorite artist’s after-party. Despite the girl flinging herself towards Atsumu, after telling you that you couldn’t, you’re not going to let this ruin a good time.
However, when you look over at her and Atsumu, it seems like he’s more interested in the bottle of water between his hands than the girl on his right. Serves her right for being a bitch about you wanting to talk to him.
“Have you always been a fan?” Osamu asks you, and you realize you were probably spacing out.
“Oh, yeah. For the last few years anyway after his debut album.” You answer and he nods. This conversation is going nowhere. “Do you want a drink?” You ask him, seeing that his cup is empty.
He smiles and nods. “Come with me to refill it.”
–
Atsumu watches as you leave with his brother, disappearing into another room obscured from his view. He couldn’t hear what you were talking about with Osamu, thanks to the girl beside him rambling on about a festival she saw him at a few years ago. He can’t find it in him to care whatever she's saying about it.
Where is Osamu taking you? His irritation is present on his face, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as if he can see through the walls.
“Are you listening to me?” The girl, whose name he’s sure she told him, asks him.
“Not really,” he smiles to soften the blow. “Excuse me,” he gets up off the couch, leaving her behind without glancing back for her reaction.
He finds Osamu at the bar with you, wrapped up in conversation and mixing a drink that you take a sip of as he approaches.
“Can I talk to you?” Atsumu asks his brother.
Osamu looks surprised but nods. “I’ll be back in a moment, doll.”
“Not her,” Atsumu tells him, his voice barely containing the blinding feelings he’s experiencing all at once. “Not tonight.”
“Calling dibs?” He smirks, a laugh falling from his lips. “Fine, fine,” he shrugs after seeing the look of irritation on his twin’s face. “I’ll go talk to the blonde you were ignoring then,” he says and leaves the room.
Atsumu watches as Osamu goes to the living room of the rented house. The girl’s face lights up when he speaks to her. She drops her phone on the couch beside her and gives him the attention she wasn’t receiving. He turns back and sees you, sipping from a red solo cup and looking defeated.
“Why so sad?” He asks, leaning on the bar and flashing his winning smile. Your eyes light up and he sees they’re hazel.
You shrug, “I’m not. Just bored.”
Bored… she’s bored?
–
Fuck, why did you say that to him? Atsumu Miya, the biggest star in Japan and maybe even the world right now… thinks you’re bored at his party.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you stutter your words, trying to change his confused look to one of more understanding. “I’m just, not used to this.”
He chuckles, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, I get that.” He tells you. “I guess this is a lot for someone who hasn’t been to our tour before.”
“I’ve been to your other tours.” You fire back, brows furrowed.
“I’ve never seen you before tonight.” He grins, and you think he’s enjoying picking on you.
“I’ve never been able to afford front row before now. I’ve always been in the lower sections. I don’t think even your pretty eyes can see that far back.” You take a sip of the punch that has something in it, maybe vodka. You’re not well-versed in alcoholic beverages enough to differentiate between them.
“I see,” he says and looks up towards the ceiling, teetering back on his heels.
Something about this little movement takes you by surprise. It makes him… real? You knew he was a real person, of course, but something so casual never crossed your mind. That’s the thing with celebrity idolization, you lose their sense of humanity.
That’s weird, isn’t it? But… it’s true.
“You seem a little bored yourself,” you comment, setting your drink down on the bar, but keeping it in front of you. “Not enjoying your own party?”
He looks at you, something on his face you can’t quite read. “It’s just not the same as it used to be, ya know. It’s more of an obligation.”
“You shouldn’t live your life for others.” This time, he frowns at you.
–
Is she serious? The look on her face makes it seem so.
Atsumu laughs, running his hand through his hair, feeling the gel still in it from the show. “I don’t think that’s true with my profession.”
Everything about him is for others.
She shrugs, her red hair falling over her face. She brushes it away and tucks it behind her ear and he wishes he’d done it for her. “I don’t think that has to be true.”
He leans on the bar, his elbows against the wood and hands supporting his face. “If you say so.”
– – –
Osamu leaves after three weeks, but that’s a quarter of the tour. They visited 9 cities during this time, but the parties started to dwindle. Everything from the second night of his show in LA is still stuck in his head. Red hair and hazel eyes haunt his dreams, even now. Plus, he can’t get out of his head what she said.
You shouldn’t live your life for others.
Isn’t that what he’s always done? Each album, every show, every meet and greet, every television or radio appearance, it’s all been for them… the fans. He puts a piece of himself in it all.
How many more pieces does he have left?
“Astumu,” his manager's voice grabs his attention. “The bus is stopping for fuel. Do you want anything from the station?”
“I can go in. It’s late, there won’t be a crowd of people.” He likes to go do his own bidding when he can, even though many times it ends with security having to drag him through crowds.
His manager frowns. “We don’t have security ready to take you in.”
“Who the hell is going to be out this late? It’s 3 a.m. in the middle of nowhere outside Pittsburgh. No one will be there.” Atsumu says, probably more harshly than he intended.
He sighs, but his manager moves out of the way and lets him leave the tour bus. The chilly air hits his warm skin, making him shiver as he approaches the gas station. He recalls the last update from the driver. They’re only 60 or so miles south of Pittsburgh. Then they’ll spend three nights there for the two shows this weekend.
Atsumu was right, there’s almost no one here. The cashier looks half asleep at the register, and there are few cars in the lot. He turns towards the coolers full of drinks, looking for a Gatorade he likes. He locates the light blue color, opens the cooler, and grabs the cold drink.
As he turns, his eyes catch on red hair walking down the aisle next to his. He can’t help himself, he follows it.
“-----,” he says, shocked that you’re in this random gas station.
Looking at you, he takes in your appearance. So different from the night he met you. You’re in casual clothes, pink sweatpants hanging off your hips, with a matching sweatshirt. Your hair is still down, but something about it looks different, maybe it’s the waves in it. You’re without makeup too, but he’s never seen someone so beautiful.
“Atsumu?” You look as shocked as he is. “What are you doing here?” You wave your hand around, and he notices the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’re holding in it.
“Heading to Pittsburgh for our shows this weekend. What are YOU doing here?” Atsumu raises his brows, smiling at you.
“I, uh, I live here. Well, close to here.” You tell him, and he nods but is more confused than ever.
“Then why were you in LA for my show? Wouldn’t Pittsburgh be an easier show to go to for you?”
“Quite the interrogator, huh?” You laugh and Atsumu wants to record it and put it in a song. “If you must know, I won tickets and a hotel room by the venue on a radio contest. I was lucky caller number 7 and got two nights to see you.”
“Oh,” he never considered that. “Are you coming this weekend?”
“Oh no, I didn’t get tickets. They’re really expensive.”
Atsumu’s heart sinks. You won’t be there.
“Come with me. I think I can get you in.” He winks and you laugh. A few moments pass and he realizes you didn’t take it as seriously as he meant it. “I’m serious. Come with us.”
“Atsumu, you can’t be serious.” You laugh, cheeks blushing. He stares at you, again something on his face that you can’t quite read. “Oh, you are.”
He nods. “Pretty serious.”
“Look at me,” you gesture with your hands at your body. “I can’t just hop on the tour bus with you and head off to Pittsburgh. I don’t have anything on me.”
“I can get you whatever you need. I have assistants.” He feels desperate now like this moment is going to change the projection of his life. “Please, —--. I want you there.”
You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Fine, but we have to go to my place and get my stuff.”
“We can do that!”
–
Atsumu is basically jumping with excitement and you wonder how in the absolute fuck this is happening right now. Of course, he’d find you on your 3 a.m. snack run when you look an absolute mess.
“Okay, let me just go pay for these,” you start to turn for the register, but Atsumu snatches the bag of chips and Dr. Pepper from your hands.
“I got these.” He smiles and the irritation leaves your body. Fuck it, he can afford it.
“Thank you,” you tell him, walking with him to the register. “Are you like… allowed to come with me to get my stuff or are you going to have to wait here for me?”
“Allowed?” He laughs, tapping his card on the card reader. The familiar ping rings in your ears as it accepts the charge. “Of course, I am. I do have autonomy, ya know.”
“Sorry, Mr. Pop Star. Didn’t know if there were any rules you have to follow.” You tell him as he opens the door for you.
“Well, we do need to go tell my manager.” He sighs. “He’s kind of a hard ass. But he can’t stop me.”
“Can I wait in my car for that?” You laugh, not wanting to awkwardly be standing there when they have it out over him going home with a strange girl.
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Which one is it?”
You unlock your car, the lights flashing. “That one. I’ll warm it up for us.”
The nights have begun to become chilly, fall setting in and all. You actually turned your heat on in your apartment tonight for the first time since late spring. You part ways, Atsumu heading towards the bus fueling area and you to your car. It’s a good fifteen minutes before you see him walking to your car, waving his hands with a big smile. You unlock the car and he slides in the passenger seat.
“Went well?” You ask.
“Oh, no. He’s absolutely pissed, but that’s not my problem.” He buckles himself in and you laugh.
“Well, he’s gonna be even more pissed when it takes an hour to get back. I live twenty minutes from here.”
“Oh well,” he shrugs as you put the car in drive.
The radio softly plays his second album and you feel your cheeks warm. “Sorry, I can change it,” you reach for the radio.
He stops you, his cold hand touching yours. You pull back, embarrassed and smiling.
“I like this one a lot. I wish we could still play it.” He tells you, turning it up.
“Why don’t you play it anymore?”
“It just didn’t do as well as others.” He shrugs and you feel bad. It’s not your favorite song, but it isn’t in your bottom tier either.
“You should play it tomorrow.”
“I’ll think about it,” he looks over at you and smiles.
The rest of the car ride you spend humming along to his second album, smiling and giggling when he sings certain lines to mess with you, and having genuinely one of the best times in your life. Hearing Atsumu live, even at his shows, has never sounded like this.
This feels… intimate.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say pulling into the apartment parking lot. “Please be quiet though. My roommate is sleeping. Plus she might scream if she sees you.”
“A fan?”
“Yes,” you roll your eyes and get out of the car.
Then you remember… the poster in your room…
“Oh. Um.” You stop him at the door of your apartment. “No laughing at me, but I might have your Rolling Stone cover on my bedroom wall.”
Atsumu laughs, shaking his head. His hair falls over his forehead. “That’s okay. I won’t tease you…. For now.”
“Fine,” you huff and open the door, welcoming him to the apartment. It’s dark so you turn on your flashlight on your phone “Remember, be quiet until we get to my room.”
He nods and follows you. You take off your shoes, and he does the same, then you show him to your room. To your surprise, he is quiet the whole way to your bedroom. Once you turn the lights on and shut the door behind him you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes immediately go to the poster adjacent to you.
“Remember, don’t laugh at me.” You turn to him and he puts his hands up in defense, a goofy smile on his face. “Also, I’m sorry about the state of my room.” There are clothes strung about, makeup here and there, and who knows what else is all over your dresser.
“As long as you don’t judge the tour bus, I won’t judge you,” he shrugs and doesn’t look around at the mess.
You pick up a few shirts on your way to the closet, tossing them in a basket to wash later. Honestly, they could be clean and just left out while you were getting dressed and forgotten about, but you don’t want to take the risk.
Atsumu is still standing awkwardly by the door.
“You can sit on my bed if you want,” you laugh, patting the duvet. At least your bed was made tonight.
He sits, crossing his legs and watching you as you go through your stuff to decide what to bring. It takes a few minutes to decide what you want to wear to the shows, but longer to decide what makeup to throw into a bag to go with them. It’s all probably too much but you finally finish packing.
“All done!” You declare, turning with two bags to face Atsumu.
You go to take a step, but your foot catches on a pair of shorts on the floor and you fall on the bed, on top of Atsumu. He reacts, catching you and falling back onto the bed with you hovering over him. He smiles, his face so close to yours now.
“Are you alright?” He asks, barely above a whisper.
You part your lips to speak, but you can’t so you close them. Your heart pounds in your chest. Hyper-aware of Atsumu’s hands on your waist, the feeling of your lower bodies smooshed against each other, and his lips oh so close to yours.
“Yes,” you finally get out and you feel yourself moving towards his lips.
No, you’re not moving; he is.
Atsumu’s lips brush against yours, his right hand leaving your waist and cupping your cheek. His lips are warm and taste sweet like a sugary drink. You kiss him back, trying to will your heart to slow down, sure he can feel it pounding in your chest. His thumb rubs against your cheek, the feeling sending shivers down your spine.
You pull away slowly, catching your breath and looking at Atsumu’s smile.
–
The way you look at him takes his breath away. That kiss, that feeling, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. He’s aware of how he’s reacting, wondering if you can feel him through his and your pants or if he’s lucky enough that you don’t think he’s a creep.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he brushes your hair away from your face and behind your ear.
“I’m not.” He’s regretted things in his life, and this will never be one of them.
You smile and he feels himself relax, “I’m not really sorry either. Well except for the falling on you. That was kinda embarrassing.”
He laughs, laying his head back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. All of this feels surreal, even with his life the way it is. He watches as you move off of him, picking up the bags you dropped and shoving a few last-minute items into the larger one.
“Ready to go?” You ask him and he rolls off the bed and stands.
“Are you?” He grabs your waist, pulls you into him again, and kisses your forehead.
You feel hot against his lips and he wonders if it’s because of him. When he looks at you again, your cheeks are flushed, so it definitely is because of him.
“Let me take those,” he grabs the straps of your bags as you relinquish them, allowing him to toss them over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” you smile at him and he follows you out of the apartment and to your car.
“You should show me some other music you like on the drive back,” he tells you, placing your bags in the back seat.
“I’ll let you look at my Spotify and choose,” you smile, starting the car and handing your phone to him.
“Let’s see what we’re working with here.” He scrolls through your playlists, laughing at the one random country playlist with early 2000s music in it, and selects one of them.
“Are you serious?” You turn your head and stare at him, waiting for the light to turn green. “Not this one.”
“Too late,” he laughs. “You said I could choose.”
The car ride is filled with silly country songs he chooses, each one making you yell at him for picking it. He even forced you to explain why you selected each one for the playlist. He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun with someone.
You pull the car into the gas station parking lot, pulling up close to the tour bus. He looks at the clock and sees it at half past 4. He hopes that he’s able to sleep at least for a few hours on the bus. He watches as you get out, giving himself a second to gather his thoughts before getting out and grabbing your bags.
To his surprise, his manager doesn’t say anything when they get on the bus. He looks at you, but he can tell it’s not bothering you at least. He shows you to the back of the bus, his room for all intents and purposes.
“You can put your stuff anywhere you want. We’ll have a hotel room when we get to Pittsburgh soon.” He says then realizes you might want your own room. “Should we ask for your own room?”
“Do you want me to be in my own room?” You ask him and he shakes his head.
“I’d hate that, honestly.”
“Then I’ll stay with you.” You move to sit on the bed, looking around the room. “So, this is how Japan’s sweetheart lives on the road.”
“It’s as glamorous as it looks,” he laughs, laying on the bed on his side, his head propped up by his hand. “You get used to it pretty quickly, really.”
You lay down, on your back but turn your face towards him. “Don’t you miss being home, though?”
He shrugs, “Sometimes. I miss my family more than that really. I was glad Osamu stayed with us up until recently, but I won’t see my mom until the end of the tour.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” You tell him and he feels his chest warming. You yawn and he realizes how late, well early, it is.
“You should sleep until we get to Pittsburgh,” he tells you.
“You should too,” you tell him, eyes fluttering shut.
–
When you wake up, Atsumu is draped around you, his breath warm on your neck. You smile, taking it in and enjoying the quiet sounds of his breathing. His body is warm against yours and you’re surprised by how comforting this feels.
How is any of this real?
Yesterday you were working and then decided you needed a break from your dissertation and decided to go get snacks. Now, you’re sleeping on Atsumu’s tour bus in his bed going to his weekend shows.
A knock on the door grabs your attention and you nudge Atsumu.
“‘Tsumu,” you whisper, “someone is at the door.”
“Probably Jeff.” He whispers back. “My manager.” He tears himself off of you and goes to the door.
“We’re in Pittsburgh. Decided to let you sleep here for a few hours, but we need to check in to the hotel and then get to the venue for sound check.” Jeff sounds no-nonsense through the door. “Get your stuff and let's get moving.”
Atusmu shuts the door and you set up on the bed. “Please tell me your hotel room has a bathroom.”
Atusmu laughs, “Of course it does.”
You gather your bags, grateful you didn’t unpack anything and Atsumu helps you take it up to his hotel room. To your surprise it isn’t in the downtown area close to the venue, but instead closer to the suburbs. Perhaps it’s easier for him to have some privacy this way?
The hotel room is the largest you’ve ever been in. The room is as large as your apartment, truly. This is more like what you envisioned when you thought about what it would be like to be on tour with Atsumu, and what fanfictions described.
“I call dibs on the bathroom first,” you say, laughing but completely serious.
“All yours,” he throws himself on the king-sized bed, seeming to fall asleep instantly.
You brush your teeth first before hopping in the shower and taking an everything shower. You scrub, shave, wash your hair and face, and then moisturize your entire body after. As you’re drying your hair with the hotel dryer, you wonder if it's bothering Atsumu’s rest. You peek your head out of the door, still wrapped in the hotel robe.
Atsumu is standing in the middle of the room at the round dining table, eating a slice of orange. “Hey,” he raises his eyebrows, and you close the robe more across your chest.
“Did you order breakfast?” You ask walking in to sit at the table, clearly full of the food he ordered.
“Jeff probably did,” he tells you and sits next to you. “He sent more than enough, clearly.”
You load up a plate with eggs, bacon, and fruit. “Give him my thanks,” you laugh and begin eating.
As you eat together, Atsumu gives you a rundown of tonight's plans, the show isn’t until 7 and he doesn’t go on until about 8. So you have lots of time to kill, but there’s still soundcheck in the late afternoon. But, the plan is to just hang out here until then.
“Plenty of time for me to destroy this hotel room and get you in trouble,” you tease.
“Oh please,” he laughs. “They’d never believe it was me. I have a perfect record of leaving everywhere I stay in great condition.”
“Whoa, goody-two-shoes on our hands.” You tease and he throws a grape at you. “Oh, there goes your clean record.” You say as it hits the floor and he rolls his eyes.
– – –
Atsumu paces around the room and you notice he’s flexing his hands a lot. He’s dressed in a similar outfit he wore in LA, but a slightly different design. The gold sparkles compliment his skin, and you can’t ignore how nice his muscles look. The vest without a shirt is a good look on him.
“Nervous?” You ask, picking at the black skirt you chose for tonight.
“Excited,” he replies. “I love doing this. It makes it all worth it.”
You can’t help but smile back at him, he looks like he’s glowing and he’s not even under stage lighting yet. Maybe he was born for this.
“So, I get to sit in this cozy room and enjoy the show on this television while you perform?” You ask.
“Or, you can come backstage and stand near Jeff. He might not be the best conversationalist, though.” He suggests and you shake your head.
“If I’m here I’ll at least get to see you change throughout the show.”
“Pervert,” he teases and you shrug.
“I’m basically living every fan’s dream right now, let me enjoy it.” You stand up, walking towards him and he takes your hands in his.
“I hope I’m living up to your expectations,” he looks a little sad and you cock your head.
“This is more than I ever imagined.”
He smiles now, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “Wish me luck,” he says softly.
You break the space between you and kiss him softly. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips.
He hugs you tightly before pulling away and leaving the room to go get in position to take the stage for tonight’s show. You sit back on a chair in the green room, watching the screen as the cameras start to focus on the stage. The show’s set is just like the two nights you spent in LA until he plays the song you requested. He dedicates it to a special someone, and you want to cry.
He has to mean you, right?
There isn’t anyone else he’s doing this with, right?
You’d be naive to believe he isn’t doing this in every city, but some part of you is holding onto a nugget of hope that what he’s showing you is real. However, even if it isn’t you’ll remember this for the rest of your life.
He joins you for a few minutes a third of the way through the show, and you get to tell him he’s doing amazing. He kisses you before he goes, and then this repeats once more when he changes again. Once the show is over, the band joins him in the green room and you don’t get much time to talk to him. You socialize with everyone, but ultimately end up back at Atsumu’s hotel room. He’s still riding off his high, talking about different nights of the show and how tonight compares.
“I don’t think there’s been a better crowd, truly.” He tells you, tossing himself back onto the bed.
You smile and laugh. “Maybe the East Coast is just better than the West.”
“Maybe,” he laughs and sits up on the bed. “Would it be weird if I asked if you wanted to shower with me?”
You stop moving, “I- uh-” you stutter and shake your head.
He gets off the bed, crosses the room to you, and kisses you. “You can say no, it won’t break my heart.”
He disappears into the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.
–
After Atsumu showers, he finds you on the couch, half asleep watching a rerun of a sitcom he’s not familiar with.
“Hey,” he says softly, stroking your hair. “The bathroom is free if you need it.”
You come to and nod. “Thank you,” you yawn before going to the bathroom.
When you emerge you're in black pajamas and your hair braided into two braids. Atsumu can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t deny your beauty when you’re all done up, but this is something else. He feels like he’s in the presence of a deity.
When you crawl into bed, he pulls you against him, kissing you deeply. You gasp against his lips and he chuckles. He rolls you onto your back, hovering over you and parting your legs with his knee. You whimper as he grazes your core, but he controls himself.
In his head, he hears the melody of the moans he’d bring out of you and feels himself getting hard.
“Atsumu, wait,” you put your hands on his chest and he pulls away.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling away from your lips and looking down at you.
Tears are threatening to spill out of those pretty hazel eyes.
“I can’t do this. I want to go home.”
#atsumu miya#atsumu miya x reader#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#miya atsumu fluff#atsumu miya fluff#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff
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CHRIS IS GETTING PAID HANDSOMELY FOR HIS EFFORTS…
Autumn is over so it’s time to get back to work…
Chris has finally grown tired of looking at leaves and trees changing colors. Also all that reflecting he did with his kind of wife must have become tiresome. Pottery and weed will have to be put on hold for a while since he is getting ready to get back to work. He had said that there won’t be another year with 3 movies. But this coming year already has 2 and according to rumors there’s more in the pipelines.
Chris is getting the best opportunities he’s had in a very long time…
Certain blogs (trolls/plants) were obviously lying when they were stating that Chris was blacklisted. He didn’t agree to this shitshow, so that he could retire in the sunset with his Nazi “bride”. We knew that there would be payment for all of his efforts. Sure for a lot of us, his efforts selling this RS/marriage didn’t look that great but they were good enough for his masters anyway. And it was all that mattered in the end.
And now he is getting his reward. Look at the 2 gigs he just got.
Honey Don’t is directed by Ethan Coen, a multi academy award winner. And Celine Song (the director of the materialists) just directed Past lives which is considered by many to be a masterpiece. And I personally agree, that movie is extraordinary.
Sure we don’t know how these new movies will turn out but these are the most exciting projects he has been a part of since Sunshine by Danny Boyle and Snowpiercer by Bong Joon-ho. If you exclude his involvement in Marvel of course.
So Chris is getting amazing opportunities at the moment and yet it makes little sense.
Payment for the PR shitshow…
Not that Chris is not talented. I do believe he is. But he has recently starred in many panned movies, that were not only flops commercially but critically as well. And he just got his first nomination for a Razzie award. Actually he even got 2 nominations at the Razzies. Red One looks like another disaster in the making.
His numbers on social media are plummeting. The engagement is quite low. So the math ain’t mathing. But actually it does…
Anyone who had followed Sebastian Stan’s own shitshow knew of the great opportunities Seb got after it and is still getting to this day. Chris is following the very same route. Anyone who is excited to see Chris in these exciting new projects needs to understand that this PR shitshow was the price to pay for it.
Most actors go through ups and downs. Sometimes the downs can be terribly long and horribly painful. By agreeing to this PR, he has taken a shortcut. He has taken the easy way out. Or the lazy way out I should say. I do consider what he did to be a lot more difficult for the soul though. No one is in his shoes and we can't judge. All we can do is to wish him the very best and hope that all of this was worth it.
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Okay since my last post about Eddie being three raccoons in a trench-coat did so well, I bring more thoughts because I don't know peace, I only know Edward.
He has a bong, that's canon, what's not covered in the show is that that bong is an absolute warcrime. No, seriously, there's so much biohazardous material floating around in the water that he hasn't changed in a hot second that it should be considered a weapon for biological warfare. I think ketamine would be safer than that thing.
He's a music snob, but not like cool hipster likes whatever and will share music snob. No, he gate-keeps shit so bad. It's his safety net. He's a "name three songs" bro. It's super annoying and you want to deck him every single time for it.
On the topic of music, I think he actually really enjoys Woody Guthrie. His acoustic guitar is a direct homage to that. I think Wayne liked it because his mom, Eddie's grandma, liked it and it just became a family thing and it reminds him of when he was young and when his grandma was alive and he at least felt like he had a little more family besides Wayne. I also wrote a Drabble about this that you can find on my Matsterlist. It's called "This Machine Slays Dragons".
He's superstitious and has a couple of weird mental mannerism. He creates little rules in his head that he's followed since he was a kid. He only walks through the right sides of double doors and only on the right side of the sidewalk. He won't step on crack. He always has to see the color of the M&M before he eats it and goes as accurately in the order of the rainbow as he can (this isn't me projecting oops).
Eddie talks to himself out loud. And he's not quiet about it. Everyone all the time is like "did you say something to me?" and he has to be like, "No just myself."
This extends into maladaptive daydreaming. He has ADHD and this is such a form of escapism for him and he's really bad at it. Like one second he's dozing off and then suddenly it's been a couple of hours. He can straight-up turn the lights out up there and let his brain run wild. It's almost a super power at this point.
He is a super messy eater. Like gross. Like get him a bib or something. Like did you actually get any of that into your mouth? I think this also has to do with the ADHD and he can't regulate his hunger when his brain gets fixated so he usually ends up starving and then overeating and he just eats so fast because he's so hungry that he doesn't care if he's getting it all over himself.
He is not a morning person. Trying to wake him up before noon means waging an all-out war, dealing with an actual temper tantrum, and then actually getting into a fight. There's no being nice and gentle and waking him up with a back scratch and a kiss because he sleeps so heavily. But when you yank the blankets off and shake him he gets so irrationally angry that he will say something hurtful and It will start a fight and he might even be mad at you for the rest of the day.
Dating Eddie means scary dog privileges. People are automatically scared of him and he's kinda mastered his front to where can can command a room. No one messes with you. You know that behind that front he's so non-confrontational and honestly not violent in the slightest but he is a protector and will go out of his way to defend you or your honor.
He is a kleptomaniac. He doesn't even mean it. It started with pens and little stuff but then it resulted in you having to remind him to put stuff down and empty his pockets because he just steals shit and can't help it. Eddie is literally a raccoon.
He also chronically doodles on everything. Himself, his notes, his notebook, you. If there's a marker present, somethings getting drawn on, He also likes to sticker-bomb everything he owns. If he had more money to spend on stickers his entire room and Wayne would be covered.
Most people think Eddie hates kids. He doesn't dislike them per se, he's actually just terrified of them. I think he's an only child with no cousins and raised by a man who had to figure out parenting on-the-fly alone. He thinks he's gonna break them or say something inappropriate and damage them for life or make them cry. Like he thinks of seventeen different scenarios in which he can go wrong with a child. However, in the case of Dustin Henderson, if there is a particularly persistent child dead-set on his friendship, he has a homie for life. Eddie would literally die for the children he pack-bonded with if they asked him to.
I literally have so many more of these because Eddie lives in the shallow crevices of my tiny pea-brain and I only ever think about him. If this does well I'll continue to share my thoughts.
#eddie munson#eddie munson headcanons#stranger things#eddie munson oneshot#eddie stranger things#stranger things s4#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x reader#flea writes
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Old Friend
Adam has had enough of sitting alone inside and decides to go to a bar, where he runs into an old friend, and things go well?
warnings: none!!
Adam was not your typical “go out on a Friday and party” kind of guy, he was more of a “sit inside alone and smoke weed” kind of guy. He never liked the scene, hot sweaty people crowded around him are just not ideal. However, he would sometimes get into a mood and decide he was over sitting his apartment alone, and he would go out to small and quiet bars in hopes of finding a partner for the night. Tonight happened to be one of those nights. He put on a not necessarily nice, but at least clean, shirt and a flannel, keeping on the same pants he had on earlier that day. He didn’t care to put much effort into the way he looked. He figured whoever he would bring home that night would inevitably see his messy apartment, so why not look the part. After grabbing his headphones and music player, he slipped on his shoes and took a hit from the bong sitting on the table in his living room. The walls were peeling with paint and stained yellow a bit, and the room was bare for the most part. It was a small studio apartment where the bed and living room act as one and the bathroom is practically in the kitchen. Not ideal, but affordable at least. Smoke filled the clean air as he exhaled, preparing himself for what would probably be a very overstimulating and awkward night.
As he steps outside, Adam begins to regret his decision, almost going back inside. Ever since being a victim of Jigsaw, Adam found it hard to go out and do much of anything. It was hard to trust anyone, especially when the killer still had not been found. But Adam was determined to take control of his life again. One thing he is is stubborn, and he will be damned if he lets this unknown man control him like a puppet. Adam would not let him take anything from him again.
Approaching the bar, Adam can feel his limbs start to go numb, probably from anxiety but he’ll blame it on the cold. He steps inside, greeted with dull yellow lights and the low sound of something country playing in the background. Adam walks up to the bar, mustering up the courage to order just a beer for now. Though he’s not really a fan of the way beer tastes, he doesn’t normally go out and it is the easiest (and cheapest) thing to order. He scans the room, looking for someone to approach when his eyes lay on a tall, older looking man. He’s got short blond hair and is wearing a coat. He looks vaguely familiar but Adam can’t really place it. He’s cute, Adam thinks to himself, even though he can’t really get a look at his face, doubt he’s gay though.
After a few more beers, however, his thought process began to change. Fuck it, he thinks, who cares anymore, I almost died, I can do anything. Adam sucks in his fear, swallowing the last bit of his drink before getting up and walking over to the man. However, the confidence and color drained from his body as soon as the man turned around. Lawrence Gordan?? The last person he would’ve ever thought about running into, and the last person he ever thought he would be trying to hit on. Apparently, Lawerence felt the same way judging by the way his face fell too.
“Lawrence?” Adam tries to act casual, like it was not a big deal he was seeing his previous trap-mate standing right in front of him. “How have you been!”
Lawrence, clearly not as amused as Adam, speaks softly, “Adam… I didn’t think I would see you again.” Adam can feel heat coming up to his face as he thinks about how embarrassing this is. His face is going red which makes him sweat harder which makes him more anxious. It’s a vicious cycle.
“Yeah, umm how about we catch up? Grab a drink together?” Adam asks, faking any confidence he may be exuding. He thinks about why he originally approaches Lawrence, weighing his options, do I really hit on a guy I was kidnapped with? Well, he is a little intoxicated and maybe his brain isn’t working properly, but he thinks to himself, why not, he’s always been kinda cute anyways. If Adam remembers correctly, Lawrence is married, though he doesn’t seem to be wearing a ring tonight.
After a long pause, Lawrence just looking at Adam, he says without smiling, “Sure.”
Eventually after some drinks, Lawrence’s mood has shifted from closed off and cautious to slightly more open and has even smiled a few times at Adam’s jokes. Adam was drunk by this point, but still aware enough to hold a conversation. Lawrence on the other hand preferred to stay more alert, still only on his second beer. He couldn’t deny, the man was charming and if he hadn’t known Adam prior to this, he might’ve flirted back a little more. But given they both hadn’t seen each other since they were kidnapped together, it felt a little inappropriate to him. Though the night had been going well and he wouldn’t mind maybe getting to know the man. Lawrence couldn’t deny, he has attractive, boyish features. Short and messy hair, red cheeks contrasting his pale skin. Though Lawrence was more put together with his appearance, the carelessness of Adam’s, the messy hair, the way his pants hung lowly on his hips, or how his shirt was a little too big on him, was very captivating. But, that had to be the alcohol thinking for him, right?
“So, you know it’s getting kinda late…” Adam began, making Lawrence (who was now on drink 4) raise an eyebrow, “What do you say we take this party back to my place?” He was grinning ear to ear now, certain Lawrence would say yes.
Instead Lawrence stares for a minute, taking in Adams rosy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. He gives a small smile before grabbing a napkin and a pen, writing something Adam couldn’t see quite yet. He slides the napkin over with his phone number written on it, “Let’s keep in touch, Adam.”
#saw franchise#sawposting#saw x#saw 2004#chainshipping#adam stanheight#adam faulkner stanheight#lawrence gordon
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Hi hun I hope you’re doing well! So I daydream a lot at work and it’s a problem but that’s how I got this idea lol. I was wondering if you could write an Eddie Munson x fem plussize reader where they maybe both work at the mall (anywhere except Scoops Ahoy just because that one’s kinda all I kind find lol) and the stores they work at are across from eachother and so they see eachother almost constantly but from further away so he’s just always admiring from afar until he finally works up the courage one day to talk to her? You can decide how it ends!💜
Hi friend! I'm so sorry this took so long, writer's block is a bitch. I changed it a tiny bit, but I hope you still enjoy, and as always feedback, likes, and reblogs are always welcome and appreciated!<333
It was all very stereotypical. Boy meets girl, instantaneous attraction, loads of pining. Or at least Eddie thought so.
When Eddie first started working at Waldenbooks, he hadn't expected much. It was an easy gig; organizing and stocking shelves, helping women find the latest Nora Roberts book, pushing Lord of the Rings onto anyone who showed even the slightest interest in fantasy books. It may not have been his dream job, but it paid well, and he could work full time during the day and still have room for band rehearsal in the evening.
It wasn't until he decided to wander around after a shift that she caught his attention. On a normal day he would've gotten the hell out of dodge after a shift. Especially after shifts that were as long and exhausting as today's. Christmas was next week and with it came lines and lines of people doing last minute shopping. They had pulled him to work the register, something Eddie dreaded doing. It was all very mundane. Did you find everything okay? Do you need a receipt? Oh I'm sorry, but your card declined. That last one was usually met with offense from whoever the cardholder was.
So after this long ass shift, Eddie needed to clear his mind. He stopped by the food court to grab a lemonade from the hot dog place and proceeded to window shop. Not necessarily looking to buy anything, just something to distract him. He didn't actually walk into any stores until he came across the brick framed entrance to Spencer's.
Secretly one of his favorite stores in the mall, the colorful LED lights floating around the otherwise dark and dingy room felt oddly comforting to him. Perhaps it was the lighting, or maybe the fact that they often had Metallica and Ozzy songs on rotation in their store setlist. Either way, the atmosphere of the store was nice. And it definitely didn't hurt that he could buy pipes and bongs without anyone batting an eyelash.
As Eddie walked around the store, eyes lazily dragging over the band t-shirts on display, he glanced over to the cashier desk to see who was working that day. He didn't recognize the figure of the person working, granted they were facing away from him.
Eddie continued to walk around, looking at the cheap light displays and cheesy party decor they had. He silently giggled to himself seeing all of the penis-themed bachelorette accessories. Eventually he ventured towards the register to look at the pipes they had hidden behind glass panels. The salesperson had disappeared, probably to go tidy up the front of the store that had been ransacked during their Christmas rush.
Eddie's eyes all but glazed over as he stared at the glass pipes. Exhaustion was threatening to take over. But before he could head out he heard someone clear their throat.
"Is there anything I could help you with?" Her voice rang out like a bell.
Eddie jumped a little, surprised by the sudden intrusion. He looked up at her and instantly froze up. She was gorgeous. Her hair was tied back with loose tendrils framing her face. Her jeans perfectly hugged her waist, the soft red turtleneck she had tucked in only accentuated her curves.
"I, uh," He cleared his throat. "I'm only looking, thanks though".
She smiled softly at his stuttering. "Alright, just let me know if you need anything".
He nodded quickly and went to take a sip of his lemonade, only to choke on a small piece of ice that had snuck up the straw. He gagged as the cube hit the back of his throat and he looked at her in horror.
"Are you okay?" She watched as the young man spluttered over his cup.
"I'm fine," He wheezed. "Thanks for your help, have a good day". He darted out of the store before she could respond.
Eddie was mortified and did his best to avoid Spencer's at all cost in the following weeks. The universe, however, had other plans. Apparently she also liked to wander around after shifts or on her lunch, the bookstore becoming an after-work haven for her. Eddie recognized her almost immediately the first time she came in, almost hitting his head on a shelf after a quick double take.
He watched as she meandered through the aisles, picking up books to skim through before putting them back on the shelf. He must have been staring for a while because when you looked up at him and he quickly glanced away, he had to blink profusely because his eyes had gone dry. Recognition lit up your face, and you made your way toward Eddie's aisle.
He slowly stood up and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. Why were his palms sweaty? He had no clue. He didn't even know your name, and yet you made him incredibly nervous.
"Hey, you're Eddie, right?" You asked quietly.
"Yeah!" He said a little too enthusiastically. "Uh, excuse me. Yeah, I'm Eddie. And you are?"
She introduced herself. "I promise I'm not a creep. I was telling my boss that I came here to decompress after a shift and he told me to keep an eye out for you. Marvin says 'hi' by the way".
"Hey Marvin," He replied with a grin. "Is there anything I could help you find?"
"Actually yes! Do you have any recommendations for a historical fiction novel? I'm not too picky about what era of history, just nothing too sappy or romantic".
Eddie racked his brain. Historical fiction was definitely not his forte. The only book he could think of was All Quiet on the Western Front, and literally everyone had read that their junior year of high school.
"I'm going to be completely honest, I have no clue where to start with that genre. I am so sorry," He said dramatically.
She giggled at his theatrics. "Well, what would you recommend?"
"Are you into fantasy novels at all?"
"I've never dabbled in fantasy worlds, no".
Eddie's eyes lit up. He started to ramble on about The Reluctant Swordsman and Lord Foul's Bane and Howl's Moving Castle. Of course The Hobbit came up, more than once, but really Eddie just started to talk about the beauty of escapism, and how fantasy novels were the perfect examples of how a story can be so enthralling that it just sucks you in and allows time to fly by at the speed of light while you're enraptured by the fictional world.
She silently looked at him as Eddie talked, a small smile on her face. She watched his hands fly everywhere as he discussed the plots to one of the novels he'd recommended.
A solid 5 minutes had flown past as she nodded along to what he was saying. He slowed down to take a breath and realized how long he'd been going.
"So yeah, I'd definitely recommend a fantasy novel. If you hate it, you can obviously return it! Or if you're not interested, I can find someone who could help you find a different book?" He offered.
"I think I'll try it. Which do you suggest I start with?"
Eddie smiled and led her to the fantasy section. He scanned the shelves and carefully chose a handful of books to show her.
"Which one is your favorite?"
"I'm partial to The Hobbit. But I grew up reading it so I'm a little bit biased".
"I think I'll start with that one then".
"Really?" He smiled.
"Really," she grinned. "That way when I finish it, I can come back and we can talk about it".
"Or maybe, if you'd like, we could talk about it over coffee? Or lunch if you don't like coffee! It doesn't even have to be that formal, just a nice chat -".
"I'd love that Eddie".
He walked her up to the front desk to ring her up. He didn't realize until she was already gone that she left a little note on the signed receipt.
Call me, I'm sure I'll have lots to talk about as I'm reading :)
#eddie munson x plus size reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things x reader#writing#ask#anon
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50+ random hcs about Sean because I have too much free time :
• One day Charmaine found a strange vase while looking for something in the garage. The next day Sean woke up to see flowers in his bong
• Sean owns a boat that he renamed "the Ocean's 12"
• Sean is the kind of guy who only celebrates Halloween to traumatize children with a real chainsaw
• He has never learned to tie his shoes, and doesn't plan to
• Sean has a lot of sleep disorders (including sleep apnea, insomnia, night terrors, confusional arousals...), so that's one of the reasons he drinks, so he can 'sleep' easily
• He suffers from bipolar disorder (type I), "The Guy Pillow", "the Casino", and "A Night Out With the Guys" were manic episodes, "Pine Barrens" a depressive episode
• The first kiss he shared with Laszlo was on a mechanical bull
• Sean and Charmaine attend couple therapy with the conclusion "put yourself in each other's shoes." Sean took the advice to the letter, wore one of his mom's dress, bought a cheap wig and stole makeup from Charmaine's purse. In the morning Charmaine woke up to see her husband dressed as a woman baking cookies and listening to the Spice Girls. 20 minutes later Charmaine changed into jeans, grabbed a bottle of wine and turned on the TV
• If Sean learns that vampires are real, he'll turn into a conspiracy theorist
• He has a scar from his liver transplant
• He secretly does drag when his wife's not at home, stealing her dresses, heels and make-up
• He owns glasses but never wears them, except when driving at night without passengers
• Sean is color blind, so he always chooses clothes with neutral colours or regular patterns (leopard, military), he is also dyslexic but not diagnosed
• He killed his father when he was a teenager (premeditated)
• Sean has a tribal tattoo on his right arm, 'Charmaine' on his left pec and 'Carpe Diem' written on his lower back
• As a child he was not allowed to watch cartoons so his childhood was forged with VHS of old movies. His favourite was Ocean Eleven 1960, it became his comfort film. He exploded with joy when he learned that there would be a remake (2001) It's also because his father forbade him to watch PBS, that today he only watches sports games and cartoons in front of the TV
• He has been fascinated by the occult and the supernatural since he was a teenager, his father considered it to be bullshit so Sean has always been discreet about it
• Sean gets frequent migraines so he uses essential oils, peppermint or CBD oil. He especially can't stand the smell of nail polish (and remover)
• He and Mikey slept together in college, mainly because they couldn't get any 'chicks'
• Sean lived in Canada for few years, so he knows some French
• He still can't identify the bushes that Laszlo has cut (the vaginas)
• He would never admit it but he loves to sew and crochet, yet he always asks his wife to put the thread in the needle because he can't do it and it makes him furious real quick
• Sean would like to grow a beard but Charmaine can't stand it because it scratches her when they kiss
• While Charmaine is a fucking danger in the kitchen, Sean is excellent, and his favorite dish to cook is lasagne. He uses his cooking skills to sell (edible) cookies in front of universities (it has a great success)
• He's had a string of odd jobs, but now he's the manager of a sex shop
yes I totally based this hc on this image :
• He wears matching underwear with Charmaine (leopard or zebra pattern)
• He has a terrible sense of hygiene; he doesn't brush his teeth because it's "too long", so he only uses mouthwash. To wash his body and hair, he borrows his wife's products, but in the past but he's already used white vinegar for washing himself because it's "more economical". And he only cuts his nails with a pair of scissors
• He has a birthmark on his ass
• He can make a "W" with his tongue
• Charmaine always prepares Sean's baths and makes sure the water is hot, even scalding, because Sean is traumatized by freezing baths (for the same reasons as Gregory in House MD)
• To this day, he's convinced that being pansexual means being attracted to "pans"
• When he was little, his mother forced him to learn the piano, he hated it, so he stopped after a year
• Every time Charmaine sees her husband watching wrestling on TV, she laughs at him saying it's soft porn, her husband's response is "you're not wrong."
• Despite his love of the ocean, he suffers from seasickness
• Sean's biggest fear is having the same baldness as his father, so he buys all kinds of miraculous products he's seen on TV to try and stem the problem
• While Charmaine is a shit at geography, Sean is pretty good
• For a short period of his adolescence he was Satanic, the only trace of which is the inverted pentagram he had scarified on his arm, which is why he always wears long sleeves, to hide his numerous self-inflicted scars
• To reach Sean you have to call him, he never replies to messages, if you're lucky he read, and if you're extra lucky he put an "👍" emoji
• When Sean goes to the bathroom, you don't see him again for at least 30 mins. Charmaine often wondered what Sean did to take so much time to shit, and he simply replied that it was his only moment of peace of the day
• Since he's a "man" he's not supposed to cry, so he only cries in front of movies (his love for the Ocean's trilogy is explained by the fact that it's the only time he allows himself to sob)
• He has a naturally artistic temperament : storytelling, crochet, painting etc...
• When he eats, he always starts with dessert because "the best comes first"
• At the beginning of their relationship, he and Charmaine had a little dog (Toy Poodle) named "Biscuit". One day, Sean almost killed the dog by sitting on it while being stoned (the Sopranos ref)
• He's an energy vampire (only Colin knows about it)
• During the pandemic curfew, he drank hydroalcoholic gel out of desperation because he had run out of beer at home
• He has a stuffed animal named "Badger", It was a bear but now he looks more like a rag, Charmaine almost threw it away by accident, Sean threatened to kill her if anything happened to the first love of his life. Franky has already ended up with a black eye for insulting Badger
• He is still a fan of the occult, tarot, gems energy and astrology etc...
• Every time he goes to the movies with Charmaine, he asks her to hide beer cans under her breasts. At first she thought it was absolutely stupid, but eventually Charmaine did it a few times. She never admitted to him that she could hide a bag of weed in her vagina if need be, for obvious reasons
• He hates IQ tests because the only time he took one online, he scored 89 and Charmaine 130
• If he's rich today, it's because he won a game show when he was 30
• Sean suffers from depersonalization/derealization
• He grew his hair to look like the Joker (and subconsciously Laszlo)
• Most of Sean's savings went into expensive jewelry that he bought for his wife to make up for it
• Behind his Ocean's Twelve memorabilia there's a secret room with absolutely everything needed to organize a casino heist : A notebook with personalized costume sketches for each of his friends + 11 extremely extensive custom-made costumes protected in covers, an entire library about robbery and action books, entire handmade maps of New Jersey and more precisely Atlantic City's casinos, an impressive collection of various weapons and safes to practice opening them, twenty years of research for the perfect heist, accumulated in notebooks and plastic sleeves, a notebook with all the formulas on how to make a bomb, and of course, the homemade bomb in the corner of the room, a huge table in the center with a video projector, a cupboard with other figures and goodies from the trilogy, and posters all around the room
• Sean is a kid mentally, and annoying his wife is his favorite pastime, his favorite activity, being upstairs and shouting Charmaine's name, if she answers, he doesn't answer, until she freaks out
• If someone knocks on the toilet while he's occupying it, he shits louder
• At the beach, every time Sean passes by a sand castle, Charmaine is forced to threaten him by whispering "Don't" because she knows that her husband wants to "accidentally" destroy the castle
• If Sean dies at some point, his unfinished business as a ghost is to kiss Laszlo
• He has very long feet, when he goes bowling with Mikey and Franky. They call him "Bozo", which is the nickname he chooses on the screen to play
• Sean suffers from sleep apnea, so he snores like a pig, and for the past few years he's had a CPAP machine
• In his teen, he sympathized with the Jersey Devil, but after the brain scramblies he forgot that he had become close to the creature
• Sean already asked Charmaine to do ASMR videos just to gain money
• He is stronger than Laszlo at chess
• He wrote plenty of Ocean's 11/12 fics on ao3. Charmaine corrects his spelling mistakes, and she's annoyed to see that her husband only writes sex scenes between men, she'd also like to see between women. His excuse : "I don't have a vagina, how the fuck I'm supposed to write the sensations of having one duh-"
• During a manic episode, he bought 6 Roomba to make an army of them
• He knows the Ocean Twelve lines by heart
• If Charmaine and Sean don't judge the clothing style of their neighbors it's because they probably had a goth period in their youth
• He is a reincarnation, just like Jeff/Gregor
• Jenna is the secret love child of the Rinaldi
• Although he and Charmaine have reconciled, they no longer sleep in the same room; because Sean has insomnia and gets up often to go out on the balcony and smoke his cigarette (which awakens Charmaine)
#wwdits#what we do in the shadows#wwdits sean#sean rinaldi#wwdits charmaine#charmaine rinaldi#wwdits hcs#wwdits hc#wwdits headcanon#wwdits headcanons#tw sex toys#tw abuse#kztpost
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Diana Taurasi sleepover headcanons
(Completely SFW!! I just wanted to use that picture to get your attention 😇)
(That picture is from 2010 so these headcanons are from that era too)
∞ Diana's place is cute enough to be on HGTV. But there's more clutter than you expected
∞ There's art and family pictures on her walls. She has a nice glass case full of old momentos. But she doesn't have any trophies anywhere
∞ Her living room has a DVD shelf and some old game consoles. The coffee table is piled high with lifestyle and sports magazines
∞ She chats with her mom on the phone in Spanish for a few minutes while you thumb through her magazines
∞ Her kitchen cupboards are stocked with unopened bottles of fancy liquor that she doesn't really drink anymore. Her fridge is stocked with hard seltzer and regular seltzer. And her recycling bin is full of empty bottles of fancy wine. She can't cook anything besides cereal, toast, sandwiches, sliced fruit, and coffee. She offers to make all five of those things for you
∞ Her room looks clean but only because she hastily tidied it up while making you wait outside. On her bedside table is a biography of Julius Caesar. There's an old stuffed animal sitting on the bench at the foot of her bed
∞ Her huge walk-in closet resembles a department store with the men's section and women's section all mixed together. There's a glass box displaying watches sitting on top of a locked safe containing even more watches. The shoe situation is reasonable because she stores most of her shoes elsewhere. In the back of the closet is the door to her bathroom. That bathroom contains a lifetime supply of hairspray. By the sink, there's a colorful glass bong she forgot to put away
∞ At dusk, she goes around and checks to make sure all the doors and windows are locked
∞ She'll cuddle up with anyone whether you're just a friend or something more. During the day, she's always on the move and she's larger than life. But as she's sitting by your side at night, you notice she's suddenly very small
∞ If you spend the night at her place, she does not shut up the entire time. She will just keep talking and talking unless you bluntly tell her to be quiet so you can sleep. You need to be assertive about making her be quiet or else she'll keep thinking of things to say
∞ She's an insomniac. She does not sleep all through the night. She just lies there with her eyes closed replaying basketball games in her head. But once she finds the right person to sleep next to, she'll sleep more soundly
∞ She wakes up at 5am and makes coffee every morning. You don't hear her alarm because she wakes up 3 minutes before it goes off and silences it
∞ She makes her bed every morning and neurotically changes her sheets more than necessary. But she can't make her bed this morning because you're sleeping in it
∞ By the time you wake up, she's already showered, dressed, and bunned. And the coffee is cold. She won't reheat your coffee because reheating coffee goes against her values. She insists on taking you to a cafe on the way to the gym
∞ She drives to the cafe and finishes the story she was telling last night right before you fell asleep. You don't remember the first half of the story very well but the conclusion is entertaining
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Till Death Do Us Part - Feysand Halloween
A oneshot based on this silly text post I made about Grim Reaper Rhys coming to claim Feyre's soul. Happy Halloween Eve!
Word Count: 2.3k
Read on AO3
-
“Feyre! What… deal… make…?”
Feyre’s brows pressed together. “What?”
She pressed the phone closer to her ear, straining to decipher Mor’s voice over the blaring of traffic to her right. She huffed, pressing a finger to her free ear as she dodged through the crowd of people headed the opposite direction.
Remind me not to walk through central London at lunch hour again, she thought, especially not on a Sunday. She shouldered herself past the tourists crowding to see St. Paul’s Cathedral just before it struck the hour.
Bong. Bong. Bong.
She let her stride match their ringing, one foot for every strike.
“I said, ‘what deal did you make with the devil?’”
Bong. Bong. Bong.
Feyre laughed. “I promised to clean his car on the weekends.”
Bong. Bong. Bong.
“No, seriously, Fey. Did you have a lawyer look at the contract? I could have mine—”
Whatever Mor was about to say was cut off by the ear-splitting shriek of the ambulance blending with the final three strikes of St. Paul’s; Bong. Bong. Bong.
The ambulance hurled around the corner, and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that now she should be able to carry on the conversation without so much noise in the background.
“What did you—”
Bong.
She paused, turning her head toward the dome of the cathedral.
“...Feyre?”
“Sorry, I’m still here.” She glanced around the crowd, reading the expressions to see if anyone else had noticed. “That’s so weird,” she said to Mor. “What time is it?”
“Noon?” There was an edge of frustration to Mor’s voice, and Feyre sensed she was losing patience with such a disorientated phone call. Still…
“They just struck the cathedral bell thirteen times,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “I was counting.”
“Well,” Mor said, and Feyre could imagine the shrug that accompanied it, “maybe you counted wrong.”
“Could be.” Most likely. There were twelve people in that cathedral whose singular job was to ensure the time was struck accurately. But Feyre could have sworn…
“Fey,” Mor snapped, so sharply that Feyre stopped in her tracks from where she’d been about to cross the road. “Are you going to tell me about your new job or not?”
She’d missed the green pedestrian light, but it had only just changed as the roads looked empty.
“Well, they offered me���”
Another blistering horn cut through the air, and Feyre might have rolled her eyes that the city was so insistent on interrupting their conversation, but her body slammed into something hard before she could.
Feyre heard shouting, and Mor’s garbled voice on the other end of the phone. Then it all turned to static until even that lessened to a single, harmonic buzz. Like someone had struck a tuning fork.
“Are you alright, darling?”
That voice was smooth and rich and lingering, like a shot of honeyed whiskey.
Feyre groaned, peeling her eyes open to see someone hovering over her, his figure illuminated so intensely by the sun overhead that she couldn’t see his face.
“No,” she said, reaching up to rub her forehead. “You hit me with your car.”
“I didn’t hit you with anything.” He reached out his hand, and Feyre reluctantly accepted. His hands were warm—surprising, since the autumn air had been notably crisp this afternoon. And when he pulled her up, the shadows lifted from his features.
She couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her. She had seen attractive men, but none that looked like him. Raven black hair, golden brown skin, and bright, vivid blue eyes that were so deep they looked violet under the London smog. The color was beautiful, but it wasn’t what made her feel breathless.
Feyre had never seen eyes that expressive before. Dancing with so much humor and mischief—maybe even a little bit of sadness. His lips were curled into a smile that wouldn’t make her think it, but… if she looked up, she could see it. That little waver in his eyes as they stared at each other, the smallest crack in the armor that made her think he wasn’t nearly as amused as he pretended to be.
The urge to paint it—to try and capture that subtle vulnerability—struck her much harder than his car evidently had. And all she really wanted was to be on her way so she could try to capture the image while it lasted in her mind.
“I think I’m fine,” she said to the man. “So, uh, I think I’ll just be on my way now. I hope your car is okay.”
He opened his mouth and she turned away before he could insist she stay—only to immediately walk into the scene of a horrific car accident. She couldn’t hear the sirens, but she could see them flashing as she watched the paramedics lift a woman onto a stretcher. A woman who looked an awful lot like…
“That’s… me,” she said, dumbstruck.
“That’s you,” the man agreed, moving to her side as they both examined the wreckage.
“Am I…” she looked down at her hands, realizing for the first time that they were translucent, shimmering as though she weren’t even there. With a frown, she stumbled further into the scene of the accident, watching as the paramedics’ lips moved but no sound came.
Feyre reached down, trying to pick up her phone, but her hand only slipped through.
“Am I dead?”
The man had followed, and was staring down at her though long lashes framed with pity. “Yes.”
“I could touch you,” she reasoned. “Are you dead?”
A soft laugh wafted through this space outside time. He shook his head. “Not quite.”
“Are you… God?”
He smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Wouldn’t it be fun if I were in control of this whole universe? Oh, the things I would change.”
Objectively, Feyre knew there was no heart beat in her chest, but she could still feel it speed up. “Are you…” she lowered her voice. “The devil?”
Another laugh. “Why, because I’m so handsome?”
Temper getting the better of her, she snapped, “Well, you certainly are a prick.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” He angled his head, blue-black hair shifting with the movement, hands still in those stupid pockets. “Or is that insensitive of me? Given your bell has been tolled, and all.”
Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, hoping it read as standoffish and not… scared, which she was trying very hard not to be. “Do you show up at every death to be this cruel?”
“Cruel?” He sighed, looking up towards the gray sky. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Feyre. I’m trying to distract you from your pain.”
“I don’t have any pain,” she said, watching numbly as the ambulance doors shut. The woman they were carrying off had been covered in blood, but… if getting hit by that car hurt, then she certainly hadn’t noticed.
“Not that kind of pain, Feyre.”
His voice… She turned, meeting a face twisted with anguish as the man pressed a hand to his chest. “In here. I can feel it. When I come to collect humans, I can see their lives. Feel the same things they do.” He sighed. “You were so young.”
“So you’re… what, like a grim reaper?”
Just as quickly as it had come, all that emotion melted back into irreverence, like he was merely changing clothes. He bowed at the waist. “They call me Rhysand—God of Death. I guide mortals to their final resting place.”
“Rhysand,” she repeated, mulling over that name. Something in it tugged at her. “That must be a shitty job.”
His expression didn’t change, but she wondered what he had seen in his lifetime. What kind of burden weighed on someone who felt the death of every mortal. He seemed… gentler than she was expecting. And she knew it made her a wretch, but Feyre wondered if she couldn’t appeal to his compassionate side.
“Rhysand—”
He held up his hand. “Wasn’t your friend trying to warn you about deals with the devil, Feyre? Death is the one thing you can’t cheat, can’t outrun.” That smile stretched, turning wicked in its promise. “I make sure of it.”
“That is to say… you can make a deal.”
“I’d advise against it.” Rhysand surveyed her carefully. “There are very few things a dead mortal could offer me. You’ve no money, no power…” he stepped closer, until they were face to face, and swept a large thumb over her bottom lip. “You can’t even show me what you could do with this pretty mouth.”
Feyre was watching his eyes—finding that they gave away far more than the rest of his expression. She could still see that underlying sadness, beneath all the mischief carried in his grin.
She arched her brow. “Is that what you’re after then? Companionship?”
Rhysand shrugged. “It can get lonely, wandering this realm on my own. Sure, I meet thousands of dead mortals each day, but they’re gone—” he snapped his fingers “—just like that.”
“So…” she pitched her voice low, looking up at him through her lashes. “If I promise to show you what my pretty mouth can do once you put me back in my body, will you give me a second chance?”
“A tempting offer, darling,” he crooned. “But a blowjob hardly lasts, does it? Soon you’ll be on your merry way, forgetting about poor old Rhysand.”
“What do you want then? Unlimited blowjobs? A ‘drop in whenever you feel like one’ kind of arrangement?”
Rhysand’s chuckle was so deep she could hear it rumble in his chest. “Mortal women have become so fun, recently. But what if I wanted more than a pretty girl on her knees for me, hmm?” His hand slid down to her chin, and he used his grip there to tilt her face up as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “What if I want to get on my knees for you?”
She almost could have laughed, thinking how strange it was that he phrased it like a counteroffer. Of course Feyre had to wait until death to find a man willing to go down on her.
“That’s perfectly agreeable to me,” she said.
“Yes?” he hummed. “You’ll let me take what I want?”
“Yes,” she breathed, letting him tilt her face up, up, up, until she was staring into those breathtaking eyes again. “Take it.”
Rhysand smiled, leaning down until their lips met. She shut her eyes, reveling in the petal-soft touch of his mouth.
And when she opened them again, they were stung by the harsh fluorescent lighting of a hospital room. She could smell the antiseptic, hear the soft, steady beat of her heart monitor.
“Oh! Mrs. Archeron, you’re awake!” A friendly looking nurse smiled at her. “I’ll go get your husband and let the doctor know.”
The nurse’s scrubs swished with every movement as she strode out the door, and Feyre watched it swing shut before she could manage to rasp, “...husband?”
Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth was so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof. She glanced around for a glass of water, and was instead greeted to a stack of get well soon cards, plush animals, and sweets. Feyre reached over to study the cards. Some of them were from Mor and her sisters, but some were from…
“Can I get you something, darling?”
“Rhysand?” she croaked, looking to the man standing at the door, grinning like he’d just won a jackpot. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I wanted to get on my knees, Feyre.” He winked. “You said yes.”
She swallowed, fighting moisture into her mouth as she read through the cards, all addressed to ‘Feyre darling, my beautiful wife’. She threw the lot of them on the bed, fighting the dread that churned in her stomach. “I said yes to eating me out!”
He smirked. “That can still be arranged.”
“Rhys—”
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed to his ears. “My sweet wife, not so loud. Other patients are trying to sleep.”
“I’m not your wife!” She glared at him. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”
Rhysand plucked one of the boxes of chocolate from the bedside table and clicked his tongue. “You almost died, and they bought you the store brand? Dreadful.”
With a shriek of exasperation, Feyre batted the box of chocolates out of his hand. Rhysand’s eyes practically sparkled as he watched them fall to the floor. “Well, they were bad Feyre, but they weren’t that—”
“Shut it!” She pointed her finger at him. “You and I are not married.”
He caught her wrists, his grip surprisingly gentle as he examined her hand. “That ring on your finger says differently.” She frowned, snatching her hand away so she, too, could look at the star sapphire ring that had not been there before. To her horror, when she tried to pull it off, she found it wouldn’t move. As though the silver band had magically melded to her skin.
Rhysand’s teeth flashed. “That ring, Feyre, binds you to me. It represents the bargain that we made in the afterlife. You are my wife now.”
He reached for her hand, holding her gaze as he drew it towards his lips and laid a kiss against each of her knuckles. When he smiled, she felt it like a death knell in her chest.
“Till death do us part.”
-
Taglist:
@arrowmusings @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @darling-archeron @achernarlight @themoonthestarsthesuriel @thebonecarver @swankii-art-teacher @reddidh
#it's been a hot sec since I wrote a fic I actually felt like I could use my taglist for#Feysand#feysand fic#feysand fanfic#feysand fanfiction#Feyre x Rhysand#Rhysand x Feyre#Feyre x Rhys#Rhys x Feyre#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction
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15 questions for 15 friends
I was tagged by the lovely @sherlock-is-ace <3 Thank you!!!
Are you named after anyone?
Yes, two great grandmothers & one actress
When was the last time you cried?
I teared up a lil seeing the subway ads for the Boston marathon a few days ago. Sounds a lil crazy but the runners often support really heartstring-pulling causes and it hits different if you remember the bombing (also it was JUST before i started my period)
Do you have kids?
Nope, and I don't want to grow my own either (I could see myself become a foster parent in 20 years)
What sports do you play/have you played?
A ton! Because i'm bad at all of them and love trying new things. I've been going to Jiu Jitsu & Krav Maga classes recently. I did soccer and crew in HS, and I've been skiing since I was two.
Do you use sarcasm?
Yup
What’s the first thing you notice about people?
Whatever takes up the most amount of space, so usually hair or skin color tbh
What’s your eye color?
Brown
Scary movies or happy endings comedies?
Happy endings for sure! I like the occasional scary movie but imo if i wanted to see sad/upsetting things, i'd just read the news
Any talents?
Jack of all trades fr. If i had to pick, I would say fiber arts and bong rips ;)
Where were you born?
New England, USA (identity theft mfs aren't getting any more detail on that)
What are your hobbies?
I play a TON of video games and love a good craft. I've been knitting since i was like 5
Do you have any pets?
Nope
How tall are you?
5'4" (163cm) - "Average American woman" iirc but people say I'm short
Favorite subject in school?
History
Dream job?
Running a combination film projection theater/dutch coffeeshop (aka place you can smoke weed inside) (there would have to be a lot of legal and financial changes in order for that to ever happen lol)
I tag: @samwilsonshandsandass @charlottan @medusolo @articulate-and-annoying @the-penguinator @jojobelle19 @superbcandyangel @asster-ish @thelunarlights @saturnbees @bastardsinclair @charmingimmortality @nonbinaryactivist @motherearthsplantasia1976 @purenpcenergy & anyone else who wants to join in on the fun! (no pressure)
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Rocking Makeover
Floyd, Rebel, and Barb were sprawled out in their shared bedroom, each engaged in their own slice of downtime. Floyd, his interest piqued by a glossy spread of magazines before him, flipped through pages until he landed on a vibrant fashion section. It showcased the bold, distinctive style of the Rock Trolls—a style he found himself increasingly drawn to. Glancing up, he caught his reflection in the mirror and imagined how he might look donning such edgy attire. He could see it—this was a style that resonated with him, a style he felt could truly express who he was.
His daydream was abruptly cut short as Rebel and Barb stirred to their feet. "I've got to take Barb to a doctor's appointment," Rebel announced, her tone practical yet gentle. "Carol and Riff will be over soon, so you won't be alone... bye!" And just like that, they were gone, their departure swift, leaving Floyd alone with a burgeoning idea.
Alone with his thoughts, Floyd's gaze drifted back to the mirror, then to the fashion pages sprawled out before him. A plan began to form, crystallizing with each passing second. He knew exactly what he needed to do to make this vision a reality—he would enlist Carol and Riff's help for a bold, rock-inspired makeover. The thought alone sparked a surge of excitement; it was time for a change, and who better to guide him through this transformation than his extremely weird friends?
The dynamic duo, Carol and Riff, made their grand entrance into the house roughly thirty minutes later, sauntering in with an air of casual ownership that seemed to declare the space theirs. They halted in their tracks, however, at the sight that greeted them: Floyd, positioned strategically in front of the door, his eyes alight with anticipation and a fashion magazine clutched in his hands. "Please... make me look cool," he implored, his voice tinged with earnest hope.
Carol's response was instant and overflowing with unrestrained excitement. "Oh, sparkly unicorn tails, YES! I've been waiting for the day I could unleash my fashion genius on an unsuspecting soul! Floyd, darling, you're about to become my masterpiece, my magnum opus in the world of rock fashion!" she exclaimed, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.
Riff, not to be outdone in the department of dramatic declarations, added his own peculiar twist. "I had 'setting the market on fire' penciled into my calendar for today, but hey, if little dude wants a makeover, consider the market's fiery fate postponed until tomorrow," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Wait, what-" Floyd's response was a mixture of alarm and confusion, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to decipher whether Riff's plans were literal or just another eccentric quip.
Carol dashed out of the house in a manner reminiscent of a cartoon character, her movements exaggerated and playful. Moments later, she returned, lugging a briefcase adorned with an assortment of stickers depicting skulls and guitars — one sticker, rather incongruously, featured a bong.
With an evil smile stretching across her face, Carol cackled like a witch as she flung open the briefcase, revealing its contents:
- A plethora of hair supplies, from hair gel to hair dye in every color of the rainbow.
- An array of makeup, including vibrant eyeshadows, bold lipsticks, and shimmering highlighters.
- A collection of accessories, ranging from studded belts to chunky bracelets and everything in between.
Riff procured a hairdressing cape from the depths of the briefcase, gently draping it around Floyd's shoulders. "Alright, little dude, we're kicking things off with your hair," Riff announced with a reassuring tone. "No worries, okay? This isn't our first rodeo with hair styling," he added, aiming to ease any of Floyd's potential nerves.
However, any attempt at reassurance was quickly undercut by Carol, who, brandishing an oversized pair of scissors, began snapping them open and closed with an unsettling enthusiasm. Her cackle filled the room as she playfully boasted, "Just imagine, Floyd, a single snip could transform you—or utterly ruin you! But where's the fun without a little risk, right? Let's see if we can't carve out a masterpiece on that canvas of yours." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly enjoying the theatrical drama of the moment a bit too much for Floyd's comfort.
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Barb and Rebel found themselves in the sterile ambiance of the hospital waiting room. Barb, unable to sit still, swung her legs back and forth, while Rebel was absorbed in jotting down thoughts in her journal. The monotonous lobby music droned on, doing little to ease the tedium. In a bid to break the silence, Barb began to hum a tune, her boredom evident. She glanced at Rebel and mused, "What do you reckon Riff, Floyd, and Carol are up to back at the house?" Without looking up from her journal, Rebel dryly responded, "Knowing them, something reckless."
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Meanwhile, back at the house, chaos reigned. "FOR THE LOVE OF—CAROL, WE ARE NOT USING A CHAINSAW TO STYLE HIS HAIR!" Riff's voice thundered through the living room as Floyd let out a shriek of pure terror. Carol, though visibly disappointed by the veto of her chainsaw idea, couldn't help but erupt into fits of laughter at the absurdity of the situation.
Riff deftly removed the chainsaw from Carol's grasp, setting it atop a shelf well beyond her reach, much to her vocal dismay. He then sauntered over to a bookcase brimming with classic rock vinyl records and selected one to play. As the gritty chords filled the room, he couldn't help but groove back towards Carol and Floyd. With a flair for the dramatic, Riff escorted Floyd into the bathroom to dampen his hair. Carol, ever the whirlwind of energy, darted after them with shampoo and conditioner in hand, vigorously working the products into Floyd's hair with an enthusiasm that bordered on zealous.
As Carol continued to lather shampoo into Floyd's hair with an intensity bordering on madness, Floyd began to speak, his voice calm amid the chaos.
"You know, guys, I've been thinking a lot about my baby brother, Branch," Floyd started, his tone nostalgic. "He was always the littlest one in our family, but man, he had the biggest heart. Always running around with a smile on his face, spreading joy wherever he went."
Carol paused for a moment, her eyes still gleaming with excitement, while Riff nodded in understanding, his hands now running through Floyd's hair to ensure every strand was coated evenly.
"Yeah, I remember you mentioning him before," Riff said, his voice soft. "Must be tough not having him around."
Floyd nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's been hard, especially with everything that's happened lately. But I know he's out there back home, and I'm holding onto hope that I'll see him again someday."
Carol, her frenzy momentarily quelled by the conversation, nodded in agreement. "That's the spirit, Pinkie! Never give up hope."
With his hair thoroughly shampooed and rinsed, Floyd couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Carol and Riff, despite their eccentricities. As the trio continued their impromptu salon session, Floyd found solace in the shared moments of friendship and understanding.
Riff carefully maneuvered the showerhead, rinsing away the suds from Floyd's hair, while Carol, with her ever-present zeal, ensured every bubble was washed out.
With the rinsing done, Carol, eyes sparkling with mischief, retrieved a hairdryer that looked like it had seen better days. She flipped the switch, and as the dryer hummed to life, she launched into an impromptu performance, her voice oscillating between notes with dramatic flair.
"Oh, we're drying your hair, but beware," Carol sang, holding the hairdryer like a rockstar with a microphone. "For this ancient dryer, with its power so rare, could gift you with style or a quite bald affair!"
Riff, with a bemused glance at Carol's performance, gently took the hairdryer from her hands, applying a more measured approach. He began drying Floyd's hair, the warm air brushing against Floyd's scalp in a soothing rhythm.
Despite the precarious introduction to the hairdrying session, Floyd found himself relaxing under Riff's careful ministrations. Carol's wild antics and Riff's steadying presence combined into an oddly comforting atmosphere, bridging the gap between anxiety and anticipation for what his new look would turn out to be.
Before long, Floyd's hair was successfully dried, leading to the next step in their adventurous makeover. Riff procured a bat-themed hairbrush, diligently removing strands of red and black hair from its bristles before Carol eagerly grabbed it from him. With a fervor only Carol could muster, she began to brush Floyd's now soft, silky hair. Floyd, trying to maintain his composure, bit his lip and fought back tears from the vigorous brushing.
Sensing Floyd's discomfort, Riff intervened with a jar of hair gel in hand. He offered Floyd a sympathetic look and said, "Sorry, little dude. Carol's enthusiasm sometimes overshadows her brushing skills."
Carol wrapped up her impromptu hairbrushing session with a jubilant song, her voice echoing off the bathroom walls, "Oh, I'm done with the brush, oh yes, I am! Floyd's hair's now softer than Rebel's tail, fluffier than Barb's iconic 'hawk, what a glam!" With a dramatic flourish, she tossed the brush over her shoulder; it landed with a thud somewhere in the room, its location now a mystery.
Riff, meanwhile, scooped a generous amount of hair gel onto his hands and worked it through Floyd's hair with practiced ease. He styled it into a trendy, messy bang that casually swept over Floyd's face, adding a touch of rock flair to his look.
Carol, ever unpredictable, pranced around the bathroom, a ringpop suddenly appearing in her mouth. How she acquired it was anyone's guess - with Carol, some things are better left unasked.
Riff presented a handheld mirror to Floyd, allowing him a first glimpse at his transformation. Floyd's eyes lit up, a visible spark of excitement dancing within them. "I love it, this is amazing!" he exclaimed. From somewhere behind him, Carol's voice chimed in, full of mock disappointment, "Would've been way cooler with the chainsaw, though!"
Riff, unfazed by Carol's interjection, added, "Just wait, little dude. We're not done giving you that new rockstar look yet." With that, the trio made their way back to the living room, heading straight for the treasure trove of Carol's makeover supplies that awaited them in the infamous briefcase.
Carol meticulously selected an eyeliner from the chaos of the briefcase and moved in close to Floyd's face. With her tongue peeking out in a display of deep concentration, she began crafting a smudged panda eye look on Floyd.
Meanwhile, Riff rummaged through the treasure trove of accessories within the briefcase. His search yielded a fuzzy black earring, a spiked choker, and a pair of black fingerless leather gloves. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he mentally approved each item.
Suddenly, Floyd winced. "OW-" he cried out as Carol, in her focused state, accidentally jabbed him in the eye with a nail. "WOOPSIE DAISEY WAISEY!" she exclaimed, unfazed by the mishap.
Not missing a beat, Carol's eyes sparkled with mischief as she brandished a bottle of black nail polish. "Let's give those nails a bit of an edge, shall we?" she suggested, her grin widening at the thought.
As Carol diligently applied the nail polish to Floyd's fingers, Riff took the opportunity to swap Floyd's existing white earring for the new, fuzzy black one, seamlessly integrating it with Floyd's evolving look. Navigating around Carol's bustling activity, Riff then fastened the spiked choker around Floyd's neck, each accessory further defining Floyd's transformation.
Amidst the flurry of their makeover session, Carol, ever the entertainer, began to sing. Her song, with a tune as quirky as its lyrics, unfolded a bizarre tale that captured the room's attention:
"In the shadows of Volcano Rock City,
Where the lava flows and the nights ain't pretty,
Appeared a mystery child, so gray and small,
Under the moon's glow, he captivated us all.
For five strange months, he roamed our streets,
With steps so silent, and beats so sweet.
But as quick as he came, he vanished in the night,
Leaving behind tales of wonder, and a trace of light."
Her voice carried the whimsy and intrigue of the story, painting a vivid picture of the mysterious child and his fleeting presence in Volcano Rock City, leaving Floyd and Riff engrossed in the peculiar narrative.
Once Carol had meticulously finished painting and shaping Floyd's nails to perfection, she breezed off into the kitchen, diving into the depths of the fridge. Meanwhile, Floyd and Riff lingered in the living room, giving the fresh polish on Floyd's nails some time to dry before he could don the gloves without smudging them.
As they waited, Floyd curiously broached the topic of Riff's personal life. "So, do you have any brothers or sisters? Or other friends we haven't met yet?"
Riff shook his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, no siblings for me. But yeah, I've got a couple of other buddies. Val and Demo," he said, his smile widening at the mention of Demo, his cheeks coloring slightly with a rosy hue. "Demo's pretty cool. I like hanging out with him a lot," he added, the goofy smile plastered on his face making it obvious there was more to that story.
Floyd caught the change in Riff's demeanor and offered a knowing look, the unspoken understanding between them hanging in the air like a shared secret.
Carol returned to the living room, a tune on her lips, as she savored a cup of red velvet pudding, its fiery sprinkle topping dancing like flames. Riff, meanwhile, found a spot to lean against the couch's base, easing into a state so tranquil, Floyd couldn't quite discern if he had drifted to sleep.
With a flick of her wrist, Carol put on a film titled 'The Inferno of Love.' As the movie played, it quickly became apparent to both Floyd and Carol that it wasn't going to be a favorite. The acting fell flat, and the humor missed its mark, making them cringe more than laugh. Time passed, and as the movie trudged on, Floyd's nails finally set, allowing him to slip on the gloves, a small victory in an evening hampered by cinematic disappointment.
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As dusk enveloped the outside world, a cloak of weariness draped over Carol and Floyd. Floyd had succumbed to slumber on the couch, while Carol, in a feat defying the usual constraints of gravity, managed to doze off atop the couch's backrest, miraculously maintaining her balance.
The tranquility was momentarily interrupted as the front door creaked open. Barb strolled in, a scowl plastered on her face, muttering complaints about her disdain for needles and shots. Rebel, trailing behind her, quipped with a mixture of amusement and sarcasm, "Well, maybe next time you'll think twice before picking fights with rabies-infested mice."
Their banter came to a halt as they surveyed the scene before them: Riff, Carol, and a transformed Floyd, all deep in the arms of sleep. Rebel let out a resigned sigh, her gaze softening at the sight of their peaceful faces. She tiptoed to the hallway closet, retrieving blankets and pillows with the care of someone not wanting to disturb the serene moment. She carefully placed a pillow under each of their heads and draped blankets over their bodies, ensuring they were comfortable.
Then, with a quiet efficiency, Rebel arranged a makeshift bed on the floor for herself and Barb. She flicked off the lights, and in the darkness, she and Barb found their own slumber, joining their friends in rest, the room filled with the gentle, synchronized breathing of a family bound not by blood, but by bond.
#trolls#trolls au#trolls movie#trolls world tour#trolls oc#trolls fanfiction#trolls floyd#trolls fandom#trolls fanfic#trolls barb#trolls riff#trollstopia#trolls demo#trolls val#trolls carol
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T T
I’ve been having dreams about Nagito a lot lately, but the one I had recently made me just want to shower him in ever more love. This boy is just so sweet I’m literally dyingggg.
So I shall create…
Flustering Nagito
Pt.1 Pt.2
This boy has very pale skin. So much so that he has to use like spf 75 when he goes somewhere sunny. So much so that some people think he is a ghost when they see him walking down the street. So much so that he has to take iron supplements due to the very low iron in his blood (which is one of the reasons for his skins light color).
But, there are more consequences to his skins light appearance then you might think. It also means that he blushes very, very easily, and it’s plan as day to see. Even if it’s a small blush, it still illuminates his soft completion, making it hard for him to cover it up.
But this was never really a problem for him because no one ever made him blush. He has bigger, more important things to worry about, anyways.
Until you came along. This may be a cliché, but you really weren’t like the others when it comes to him. His classmates are kind of nice (overly nice in his eyes) but they never chatted with him, ate with him at lunch, or ever greeted him good morning when he came in. Besides you. When you joined their class, it all changed for him.
“Hello, my name is L/N Y/N and I’m moving here from my home town. I hope I can work hard to become a proper classmate for you all.”
With a polite bow, you scanned the room. Everyone was so different here. Some people were smiling at you, some were frowning, some where looking at you too much, and some were straight up sleeping. But, you were excited none the less. The day you woke up to a letter in the mail from Hopes peak, you couldn’t believe your eyes. You had tried to sign up to the illustrious school a few weeks ago but when you never got confirmation that you were accepted, you moved on with your life. But to finally be here was the best feeling in the whole entire world!
“Very nice! Very nice! L/N, why don’t you take a seat next to…….
…..
..
Komaeda!”
Nagito’s eyes widened at the sound of his name. You were going to sit next to him? Why him? Isn’t there better options for you then to sit next to a disgusting person like him? But if that’s what Chisa wanted, he wouldn’t complain. You quickly took your seat next to him and the lesson for the day finally began.
.
….
……
BING BONG DING DONG!
The school bell for lunch finally rang out.
“Finally!!! I’m absolutely sttttaaarrrvvvving!~ Hey Tsumiki, let’s eat together!”
Ibuki jumped up from her spot and grabbed Mikan’s hand, pulling her over to her desk.
“O-o-o-okay Mioda… I-if you want to….”
Mikan looked down at the floor, seemingly nervous.
You could only wonder why.
“So, your names Komaeda, right?”
Nagito quickly looked at you, surprised that someone (especially you) were talking to him.
“Uh, yes. And you’re name is L/N?”
“Mhm. Do you want to eat lunch together?”
Lunch…..? Together……? You wanted to eat….. with him? Trash like him? Heheh….. hehehehheh…. It was funny how naive you are. You don’t even know the low level trash he is. Or, maybe it was just as mistake. Or maybe-
“Hmmm? You okay?
“Oh, uh-“
He tried to answer you, a yes was what he wanted to say, but for some reason, he couldn’t say anything. You eyes were glued to you, scanning your features. And he couldn’t deny you were very pretty to him. Ah! Why was he looking at you so long?! You were probably thinking about how weird he is! Oh crap, this was too much for him.
“I-I…..”
“I-I have to go to the bathroom.”
He suddenly got up from his desk and swiftly walked out of the door and straight to the boys restroom. He locked the stall door behind him and leaned against it was a long sign. He looked down at his hands. What was this feeling?! Why was he acting this way?! His face felt so hot… his mind felt so hot…. Like it was burning with the power of the sun itself…
Was he….
Flustered?!
To be continued… if you want me too. :)
#danganronpa x y/n#danganronpa#Nagito#danganronpa nagito#nagito x you#nagito x reader#nagito komaeda x reader#nagito komaeda#dr nagito#drv2 goodbye despair#goodbye despair#drv2
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bing bong ask meme tell me about them please
Benji 1, 18, 39
Max 2, 12, 23
Archie 13, 17, 28
Putting this one under a cut!
Benji:
1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?
“Rarely is there truly ever nothing to do. There is always something I can busy myself with. The only thing I dislike more than boredom is wasted time. Any time not utilised is time wasted. I can barely withstand five minutes without engaging in something.”
18. What embarrasses them?
“Oh. Wouldn’t you like to know.”
It actually takes quite a lot to embarrass him. Usually he’s the one embarrassing others because of this. It took him long enough to get over embarrassment to just wear the clothes he enjoys so he tried to not let anything get in the way of what he enjoys. The worst thing you can do however is be direct with him, he’s very flowery and indirect about things if you get what I mean. Calling him out on his bullshit works wonders too.
39. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?
“Name me someone who isn’t flawed! We’re all just trying to get by and do what we can, hard to be perfect when around every corner is someone trying to ruin your day.”
The answer is INCREDIBLY easily. He’s no saint himself. He’ll readily ignore quite glaring issues if you help him with whatever it is he wants done. Besides openly flawed people have no right to judge when they’re also working with a flawed idiot.
Max:
2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?
“Eh, not a lot of people are actually that funny.”
Max tends to steer towards dark humour as a coping thing, but not a lot of people find that shit funny. He rarely lets down his guard enough to enjoy the humour of those around him. It’s usually something really daft will get him going. Ya’know like when you send your Dad a funny animal video and he’s crying with laughter when it’s not really that funny? That kinda thing. Once you find that niche you’re in.
12. How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?
“Sometimes if I’m lucky the mutt can sort it out, but not always. I gotta be careful on account o’ the whole, ya’know, claw situation. I shredded a shirt once trying to get to a spot on my back. Not my… Proudest moment.”
Max’s death is able to touch him at times, not constantly, but enough. Sometimes he gets lucky and it can sort it out for him! Personal back scratcher! Though if that won’t work he sometimes just fucking rolls around like a damn dog if no one else is around. Catch him rubbing himself on a tree like a bear and watch him run faster than you’ve ever seen in your entire life.
23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?
“I’ve started tryin’ to just go after the shit I want. I’ve spent long enough not getting what I want from life I think I’m deservin’ of shit finally going my way for a change.”
Envy itself isn’t something Max struggles with often. He’s a former rich kid so he knows how the other half have lived and he’s pretty much over it at this point. Though he is incredibly resentful overall, he’s got a lot of unlearn and get over.
Archie:
13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?
“Oh, uh. Hmmmm. BEST? Oh man, that’s hard. I like most colours pretty equally… It’s so hard to pick a favourite… My Ma always said I look good in white… But I think everyone looks good in white! It’s WHITE! Hm. I think. I think it’s gotta be between turquoise or burgundy! But I don’t have much of either at the moment sadly…”
Archie hasn’t really been allowed to explore his options much fashion wise. But now he’s loose on the town there’s nothing stopping him from trying out new styles! He does struggle with picking a favourite colour though, his ideal thing to wear would be one of those colour block jumpers where each part is a different, bright colour.
17. Are they easily embarrassed?
“N…No… (10 second pause) Okay. Yes. I never used to get this flustered back home but out here in the dust it’s… A bit more. Intimidating. I know the wings are a lot but c’mon!! Quit staring!!”
The youngest of three Archie actually had a pretty thick skin back home. Especially being of demonic descent, people get pretty judgy. But that quickly faded getting out into the real world. With any luck he’ll build it back up over time once he’s a bit more used to it out in Red West.
28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?
“The truth is ALWAYS the best option!!”
Dealing with the ramifications of certain withheld truths, Archie wants nothing but the honest truth. Even if it hurts. Though it’s quickly becoming apparent that the truth is not something post people enjoy sharing around here. Archie only believes in lying for the bit.
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philip (the wraith) friends to (maybe?) lovers with a fem!reader (HCs)
Anonymous asked:
How abt wraith with a fem survivor, they start as friends and she starts to call him Bing bong, and they later on catch feelings for each other.
But fem survivor won't act on those feelings but the other killers notice that wraith has a crush? :)
things were pretty smooth sailing for philip before you came along (not in a bad way)
until he started getting you in his trials
you’d tease him a lot while he was chasing you
at first, philip shrugged it off because he’s had a flurry of colorful words/terms thrown his way while chasing survivors, so he figures you mess with him just to get a rise out of him
but the moment you call him “bing bong?”
philip.exe has stopped working.
no, i’m not kidding, he literally stops mid-chase and stares at you with wide eyes
philip can feel his cheeks heat up, which is something he hasn’t experienced in who knows how long
from then on, philip is filled with nothing but innocent curiosity towards you
of course, during trials philip has a job to do, but whenever he does have trials with you, he’s always sure to study your playstyle and attitude
he even visits you outside of trials (cloaked, so you never know he’s around)
over time, things begin to change between you
there’s just an air of… casualness when the two of you come face-to-face in trials
philip begins to feel his dead heart giving the tiniest of beats whenever he sees you, that feeling only increases tenfold when you return his casual affections
of course, all good things come to an end
evan is the first to question him, asking where he goes because whenever he comes to visit azarov’s, half the time philip wasn’t there
philip is unsure how to answer the male, but he eventually (terribly) draws your figure in the dirt with a stick
evan simply shakes his head and tells him that you aren’t a good idea before leaving him be
shortly after that, philip finds you near the forest by the survivors’ campfire
he beckons you deeper into the forest to avoid being seen
philip has full intent on asking if you could both move your relationship to something more than platonic, but another thought hits him
despite you returning his affections, you never went beyond that
so instead of popping the big question, philip begins to lead you to azarov’s so you can rest there before your next trial
upon taking your hand in his, a human being’s touch has never felt so warm.
#dead by daylight x reader#dbd x you#dbd x reader#dead by daylight#dbd#philip ojomo x reader#philip ojomo#the wraith x reader#dead by daylight wraith#dead by daylight the wraith#dbd the wraith#the wraith#dead by daylight requests#dbd requests#dead by daylight headcanons#dead by daylight hcs#dbd headcanons#dbd hc#bee's requests#🌙
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