#got another set for this scene but i'll post that tomorrow or maybe the next day :3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 1 year

Note

I know you've been getting a lot of male reader requests and I'm so sorry to add on to it-

Could I request a fic where Jason is bullying reader about being "Eddie's boy" or something like that and Eddie gets protective and possessive?

Maybe some smut with rough but loving Eddie? Eddie's absolutely wrecking the reader but still being the sweetheart that he is

Hi! I'll be happy to do my best.

I'm building off a continuation of this blurb, "Teach Me How to Love You" and combining it with another request:

Can you do an Eddie x Male Reader smut where the reader teases Eddie all day in school which makes him really horny. Then as soon as school ends Eddie quickly drags the reader to his trailer and things just go from there. (Sub/bottom reader btw). thank you!

The goal is to try and keep myself from burnout and honor the requests that come in at the same time. Thanks for understanding. Reader is 18.

Eddie Munson x Male Reader.

CW: 18+ Content (Smut--Handjobs and blowjobs specifically)

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

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Perhaps it was also naive to think that wearing your tightest jeans was just a coincidence on the day that you and Jason had to present your scene. The entire time, while glancing between your piece of paper and the classroom, you stole glances to Eddie. When you two caught gazes, you'd smile and Eddie would send you a wink. But then his eyes would drop down to the front of your jeans and when you turned to the side, he'd tilt his head just a little to catch a side view of your ass.

At the end, after the class finishes their clapping, you lean a bit of your chair to Eddie's seat, sliding a note onto the corner of his desk. Ms. Barlowe is much too distracted by her praise to notice the pass.

You are being so obvious. Perhaps I should get you a bucket.

Eddie scoffs when he reads it, flipping you bird. You laugh, turning back into your seat to face the front as the next pair goes up to the front to talk about the scene they translated and perform it. But the entire time you're staring at pairs, you can feel Eddie's stare boring in the side of your head.

"My place?" Eddie asks at the end of the day, fingers tracing over your palm.

"I have to get my mom from work. I've got the only working car right now."

Eddie nods, understanding the necessity of your part. "Just call when you get back home, yeah? Wanna make sure you're safe."

"Absolutely." You kiss his cheek, aware of the setting though the parking lot is full, most people are too focused on themselves to quite notice. You don't want to push it though.

Eddie opens your car door and closes it once you're situated inside. You roll down the window, through which Eddie leans in. "Still coming to the show tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing it. Not with my man performing."

Eddie grins, head lolling gently to the side. "Oh, say that again."

"In your dreams, Munson. But seriously, I gotta go."

"Yeah, yeah, drive safe," he states, stepping away from the car and letting you back out of the spot. Eddie watches until your headlights are just ghosts of themselves before he climbs into the van and starts towards Gareth for band practice. He'd offered his plan as interim and for post practice originally, hoping to get more than just a kiss on the cheek. And if Eddie had anything to do with it, he would.

You seem to make it your life's mission to find every possible piece of distracting clothing and to wear it for Eddie the entire week. When it's not the jeans, it's the tight muscle tee that you wear, Corroded Coffin's logo etched into the front of it with fabric paint, or the button up shirt that most definitely should've been button up more to hide away your chest, but none of the teachers stopped you, or the cologne that isn't one Eddie's noticed you wearing before but smells absolutely fucking delicious. When it's none of that, it's the rings you unearth from where in your closet. Rings were Eddie's thing. And that he didn't want to sharing things, but he takes notes of the way you purposefully talk with your hands more with the rings, like you want to bring attention to them.

And the entire week, because your mom's car is still down, Eddie can't have you. He can't sit you on his lap, can't tug and pull you to a release in his fist like he wants and while it's literally had him rubbing one out nearly every night in the shower, Eddie can be a patient man when he wants to be.

Because Friday night you are all his. Your mother's car is fixed and returned Thursday evening and though Eddie has Dungeons and Dragons to head, there's nothing else that can get in the way.

That is until Jason's pestering comes to a head. He'd been on your ass since you two got assigned as partners and managed to get cordial enough to actually ace the project. However, the days post the presentation, he'd found every reason to corner you.

Today, a rather dry and crisp morning, Jason finds you leaning against the hood of your car, arms folded over your chest as you wait for Eddie. "Oh, are you missing your master? Sitting here like a lost fucking puppet." A slur follows it and you really and truly only want to turn away from him.

He'd gone from bumping you in the hallways, to openly mocking you when you weren't with Eddie. The less you gave in, the harder he tried to get a reaction. Today wouldn't be any different for you.

"You deaf? You hear me talking to you?" Jason hollers. Spit flies off the end of his lip.

You say nothing, staring at him and the crew that's assembled. It would be four against one and if you managed to get a good hit on two of them, the other two would be on your ass in a heartbeat. You're no fool, even if you can feel the tick of your own jaw.

"I'm talking to you," Jason huffs. "Ain't anybody ever tell you it's rude not to talk when someone's talking to you."

"You're yelling. You're not talking."

"You're a fucking freak who's fucking a freak and it's vile," he spits.

"Did Chrissy not put out? Or is it your time of the month?" you return. You hate to bring her into this--Chrissy's always been nice to you. But you know it's going to crawl under Jason's skin and eat him alive. The two of them had been on the rocks. Everyone could see it.

And like a match only needs gasoline Jason rushes you, hands tightening around the collar of your t-shirt. "The fuck did you say to me?"

"I don't think I need to repeat myself," you laugh.

"Hey!"

The call interrupts Jason's wild gaze and when he looks over, he spots Eddie rushing over. Eddie shoves past Patrick, who truly is the meeker of the group. How Sinclair could ever want to get in with the likes of them is beyond Eddie and though it pissed him off, Sinclair and yet to miss a campaign session so Eddie would let it slide until it became a problem. And Sinclair's not a problem, not someone Eddie thinks could be easily poison but Jason was a toxic cloud and strong enough to take almost anyone under.

Jason's grip loosen around your shirt and you swat at his hands. He steps away as Eddie steps between your body and his. "What kind of problem do we have here?" Eddie asks.

Jason grins. "Looks like we've got a freak problem right now. What do you say boys?"

You push up from the hood of the car. It's four against two, still terrible odds, but Eddie's scrappy, you've seen it. And so are you. These are odds you are willing to take and for a fleeting moment, you think the heavens you wore rings today.

You don't know who threw the first punch. It could've been Josh, maybe it was Chance. All you know is that when the gym teachers get involved to break up the fight, your lip may be busted but Josh's eye has seen better day. You're pretty sure Chance as a broken nose. Jason face seems mostly untouched as if he used the other three to shield himself from most of the damage and Patrick's eye and lip are swollen.

You let Mr. Jenkins haul you away, arms going up in defense before you look to find Eddie, who's not even looking at Mr. Polinsky but looking at you. The brawl lands you and Eddie a week of in-school suspension. Two brave witness came to attest that Jason, Chance, Patrick, and Josh instigated the fight but you know the precious Hawkin's basketball team will only get a slap on the wrist in the end.

As you and Eddie leave the principal's office, you notice how thick the silence is between the two of you. You hadn't spoken a word to each other when Eddie came up to intervene and you couldn't really say much as you took fist to your faces and the occasional foot to your rib.

"A beautiful way to start the day, huh?" you tease, nudging at his elbow with your own.

"How long has Jason been antagonizing you?" Eddie ask instead, pulling you of the direction of the nurses office where the two of you were sent with directions to go immediately to the ISS room.

You shrug. "I wouldn't call it antagonizing as much as I would call Jason pathetic."

"He is pathetic. I hate that Sinclair's going to the dark side, but you were severely outnumbered there. How long as he been on your case?"

"A couple of days."

Eddie stares at you, big eyes pleading as you can see the bruises blossoming his face.

"A week," you sigh, casting your gaze down to the ground. "Ever since we presented in English, he's been up my ass."

Your heart drops when you catch sight of the frown on Eddie's face. He speaks before you can ask about it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't like he'd threaten to jump me until today," you defend.

"No, but, like, why didn't you tell me when it first started happening? I could've helped."

You laugh. "You helped today."

"I'm being serious." It leaves Eddie's throat in almost a growl and he's fingers wrap around your chin tip of his thumb gingerly grazing where your lip split.

You wince just a little at the touch. "There were so many other things I had to focus on. I just--I didn't think it was a big deal."

"And now you're handsome little face is bruised to all hell," Eddie sighs. He gets that other things were higher priority for you but damn it hurts worse to see you injured.

"I'm tough," you laugh.

"You are. You've always been, but goddamn, I don't want to have to be."

You watch his face, eyes flickering over the injuries you've noticeably sustained. "Don't look at me like that," you sigh. His eyes ooze with regret and a little bit of sadness. He doesn't look at you like you're fragile, but he he does look at you like the whole world might reside in the expanse of your being. "My heart won't be able to take it," you tease.

Eddie grins, it's short lived, his face no doubt sore too. "C'mon," he states gingerly, hands interlacing with yours and pulling you in the direction of the front doors.

"We have nurse passes and then ISS."

"The school can kiss my ass. No doubt she's not done patching up the airhead jocks."

You continue to trail behind Eddie, glancing every couple of seconds to see if the doors will open again. "They're going to go to the ISS room and we're not going to be there."

"I'll call up to the nurse's office. She'll get our work."

"Don't tell me you used the Munson boyish charm on Mrs. Yeates. Poor sweet Yeates subjected to your wilds is unfair. Her late husband's been dead longer than we've been alive."

Eddie snorts at your taunts. "She's one of the few people left at this school that gives a shit about me. She scratches my back, I scratch hers."

"That--but not like that that, you know?"

"Mrs. Yeates very occasionally buys, most of the time I help her out with stuff around the office or her house."

"The school nurse?" you whisper, finding your keys in your pocket. You're thankful now that they didn't fall out or get trashed in the fight. "Buys? From you?"

"She tips well too," Eddie laughs. "Meet me at my place. You can still see, right?"

You nod. "Yeah, but I should be asking you that?"

"If you see Hopper just floor it. The man loves a good speed chase."

You're not shocked that Eddie would know that. So you leave it be and settle yourself in the driver seat before following Eddie out of the parking school lot.

At his trailer, Eddie hoists you up onto the counter. And it's less he does it all himself, you help, but when he pats the side of the sink, hands running under the water, you slip up onto it and his hands hover to make sure you don't fall.

He's gentle as he dabs off the dried blood. His warning that the cleanser is going to sting comes from softly in his chest and you grip the edge of the counter to keep from jerking away too much at the sting. It's soothed by Eddie's hand along your thigh. "You did good," he praises, flipping through the content of the first aid kit.

He fishes out the ointment, finding q-tips to apply it. The cut on your cheek is cleansed and bandaged too before Eddie works on himself in his reflection. All the while you sit and watch. His eye doesn't look nearly as bad as Josh's but it still doesn't look great. You slip down as Eddie moves to get his cuts bandaged up to find the frozen peas you know are still probably haunting the freezer for these exact purposes. Your knuckles are in great shape, but they'll be okay.

You return to the bathroom to hand the bag over to Eddie. "For your eye," you tell him.

Eddie laughs. "I can't exactly suck you off and hold a bag of peas to my face at the same time."

The brashness catches you off guard, your mouth hanging open like a fish for a moment. "What-what are you talking about?"

Eddie hooks a finger into the collar of your shirt bringing your chest firmly against his. "You have been a goddamn tease this entire week. New cologne."

"It's actually old. I only wear it fancy occasions." That isn't a lie, but it's not fully true either.

"Tight jeans."

"I-I hadn't done laundry yet." Absolutely that one is a lie, but those jeans are usually reserved for the bottom of the barrel for that specific reason. It does help that you had a feeling the outline of your bulge would set Eddie off.

"A button up that wasn't even worthy of the title of shirt considering how many buttons you had undone."

"It gets hot in the school," you defend. And that is true. Once the heat is turned on in the school, it is on and it is boiling hot.

"Rings," Eddie continues to list off.

"Okay, that was on purpose." You'll concede that point but not the others as you enjoy the way Eddie walks you out of the bathroom, pausing to get the peas back into the freezer and then continuing back to his room.

"And that goddamn tight muscle t-shirt Tuesday night."

"The bar gets stuffy, Eds." Another piece of the truth tainted in a tiny bit of a lie. You wouldn't be oblivious to the fact that the muscle tee did show off your biceps and you would, and did, use that to your advantage.

Eddie brings you, not by dragging but by stalking so you walk backwards throughout the trailer to his bedroom, kicking the door close with his foot. "Over my dead body," Eddie laughs. He closes in, like he wants to kiss you but he knows it's going to cause too much pain.

"On the bed. Now."

You debate only for a moment what you're going to do but then turn and walk to the edge of his bed before you sit. The last thing you're going to do is deny him or yourself the pleasure of this experience. Though you weren't sure how far it would or could go given your injuries, you'd take the risk of pushing the envelope.

Eddie crouches down into your space, nose gently bumping over yours. "You had and go get punched, which means in order to spare your pain I can't kiss you properly."

"I didn't ask for it," you retort, intent on keeping the story line straight. Jason had started it but you'd finish it.

"I know. I just need to know though. What will you ask for?" The question is paired with Eddie's hands tugging your shirt up and out of your tucked in jeans.

"You." It's one word that falls from your chest in a whisper but it carries with it everything.

Eddie makes quick work of your t-shirt, discarding it haphazardly to the floor. His fingers skate down your chest, teasing your nipple and you hitch up, a groan knocking at your chest at the sensation. You can feel a throbbing--now the dull ache of your sore face and hard cock mingling together as Eddie disrobes you. His touch is gentle and sure, but his pace is quick. He is tender but he is not wasting time.

You reach out for his bicep as you pushes you back further up on the bed, dull fingernails digging into the flesh and muscle. Eddie laughs at the way you moan out his name. It sounds like music, but Eddie finds glee in the way you melt for him.

"I would apologize for how hasty this is, but I think you're too blissed out to even care," Eddie whispers into the skin of your neck.

"I-" you swallow down part of the moan that works up your throat at the suckle of Eddie's plumps lips. "Fuck, I really don't care."

"Figured as much," Eddie laughs. He kisses down your chest, working your jeans and boxers down too. The sight of you, hard and leaking onto your own stomach makes Eddie's mouth salivate and his own cock to twitch in his pants. "Fuck," he whispers before taking you into his mouth.

You throw your head back, and the throbbing that he'd pushed aside for the moment comes rushing back again so you angle your head down again and huff as the work of Eddie's tongue over you. His free hand keeps tight on your pelvis, pressing you down into the mattress as everything in you wants to rut up into the warmth of his mouth. his spongy tongue runs along the underside of your cock and it makes you see stars.

It's lewd--the sounds Eddie ms making but you don't care as you join in, your groans bursting from your chest. You're not going to last long, not with the way Eddie's tongue and hand are working over you.

You teeter right on the edge before Eddie pulls away firmly. "You fucker," you huff, the last tense edge of your impending orgasm floating away.

"I want to watch you when you cum," he states. It's even and measured no hesitation or uncertainty.

Eddie spits into his hand before grasping you again and he watches, every twitch of your face, every time your jaw goes slack--Eddie watches it all and the blinding edge comes back. You can feel it in your toes.

"Shit." It's all you can muster and his name falls broken just behind it.

"That's it," Eddie encourages. "That's what I want," he smiles, when the first hot spurt hits his hand. "Give me all you've got."

His hand keeps an steady stroke over you and you don't have any air to tell Eddie you can't come anymore, that you have given everything and then he lets go and you think you've plummeted back into the stratosphere all the way down back to Eddie's bed.

The frame creaks and then something warm and soft is against you. You realize now, probably a cloth to clean up the mess you've made. It's not until Eddie returns to the bed, how he brings your naked chest up into his chest--now stripped over the t-shirt he'd put on this morning--that you start to regather your thoughts again.

"Give me five and you're next," you mutter into his chest.

"I'll give you ten so I can ice my eye."

"Sounds perfect."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munso x reader #h writes #stranger things

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stevenbasic · 3 years

Text

“Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit.

——

Earlier that day, I’d been told at the front desk that there was a lady from Evolution Pharmaceuticals on the line, and that she’d like to speak with me. Aubrey had always been good about screening out the sales pitches, the irate patients, the people with whom I really never needed to actually talk. So that she was pulling me aside for this call told me that this one might be something I should probably take...

But - ugh. No. I didn’t want to. This had been a long day, a long week so far - and it was only Tuesday! God, the past few months had been more and more exhausting, humiliating and emasculating with each passing hour. And the more I learned, the more it seemed that this company was at the heart of my troubles. Yes, it offered the opportunities of great financial rewards for the practice with this clinical study trial in which we were going to be participating. Since Jeanette, my previous Office Manager, had left, the mismanagement of the business had us in dire straits. Without the money from Evolution’s study and the “Lean In” grant from the women’s advancement group, I’m not sure we’d still be afloat. So, yeah, maybe I should have taken the call.

“I’ll call them later,” I told Aubrey, and grabbed the films I needed for my next patient.

That had been three hours ago, before my little hallway meeting with Melissa. Since then Gianna - some woman who’d wanted to speak to me about the trial - had called two more times. Left messages. Really wanted just fifteen minutes of my afternoon. Needed to speak with me. I refused each call.

Finally done with patients, sitting in my office at the end of the day as darkness crept in from outside, I sighed as Brittni from the desk buzzed me. She said that Gianna was on the line again. “Can I transfer her?”

“No,” I replied on the intercom, noticing that a little green light had blinked to life on the camera I had clipped to my monitor. I hadn’t seen it before, this light. In fact...when did I get a camera on this computer?

“Tell her I'll call tomorrow...” I finished.

I had set back to finishing some patient notes on my desktop when, suddenly, my screen flashed to black. For a quick moment I thought - oh no, a crash - but then a new, unfamiliar window appeared, and my mouse pointer began moving on its own accord. What the…? The window went full screen and next thing I knew I was in a video chat with-

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were avoiding my calls…” the woman onscreen spoke, laughing casually as she tossed her hair...

“oh, uh…” I was immediately agape. This was who’d been trying to call me all day??

“Anyway...Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit. This girl was gorgeous. Look at those tits.

As I stared, still shell-shocked and speechless from having my computer hijacked out from under me by a bosomy corporate careerist, she went on to introduce herself as Gianna Albertini, from the clinical trials department at Evolution Pharmaceuticals. She explained how excited she and her team was to get the study off the ground at the practice. Things had been fast tracked at the FDA, they were just waiting for some rubber stamps, and everything looked very promising for their product. She apologized for not being able to meet in person, at least for a while. “I’m on some new retroviral treatment, and they have me quarantined at home,” she explained with surprising nonchalance, “yadda yadda yadda…”

Finally, after a good several minutes of watching her talk - and she held my attention easily, her rack possibly rivaling Melissa’s - she let me get a word in edgewise. I was still confused by how in one moment I was working on my patient charts, and then in the next I was in a video chat. “H-how did you…?”

“Sorry,” Gianna laughed, casually waving away any privacy concerns I was currently about to voice, “I had to remote in, take over your desktop. I really needed to speak with you.” Beyond the blatant intrusions tactics she was obviously willing to employ, there was something in this woman’s eyes, her demeanor, that was making me more and more concerned as the conversation - such as it was - continued. She may have been acting relaxed and friendly, decidedly informal, but there was a seriousness just below the surface that even I could see, even through the screen, and even in the face of those enormous tits. “Plus, maybe it’s actually better we do it this way, rather than on the phone,” she said, as she sat up nice and straight, “So we can see one another’s...smiling faces.”

Gahh...

As she got down to brass tacks, this young woman went on to describe to me some of the details of the new wings in our building into which the office would be expanding, how much more space we and Evolution be acquiring to fulfill the needs of the trial, and when it would all be ready. “Construction is ultra-fast tracked,” she said, “should be done within a few weeks.”

Weeks?? I marveled, silently incredulous. I��d seen the plans; it was a huge project. I’d figured months, if it ever really got done at all. But, the teams did seem motivated, and there were a lot of them, working day-in and day-out, all through the night. Maybe, perhaps? Could they pull it off in weeks?

We also talked about the structure of the trial, what it would involve day-to-day, and the long-term forecast. Evolution seemed ready to set up permanent shop with a clinic in the building, by taking over much of the lease of the new space, with the study just the first step in the door.

“You’ll be listed as the lead investigator,” Gianna explained, continuing on to detail the ins-and-outs of the trial, “but don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of people in place. You really won’t have to do too much, or deal with anyone at the main office. You’ll be reporting just to me...”

“r-reporting to you?” I asked, trying to ignore the impressive bosom which filled the screen, cowed me. That had taken me back a bit...'reporting to her'? I had noticed something in this young woman’s tone, through our chat, that led me to believe that she and I possibly had different views as to the, uh, hierarchy of this whole thing. I was the doctor around this place, and had gotten used to expecting a little respect, being top of the food chain. She, on the other hand, maybe had other ideas.

“That's right,” she said, “we’ll do these chats once a week, more if I feel like we need it. I’ll expect a report from you every day, but again don’t worry. It’s basically something you just have to sign, the girls will do it all. Our other providers will be handling most of the work with the patients in the study, entering data, keeping the FDA happy, blah blah blah. Maybe we’ll ask you to go in and talk to, examine a few of the subjects, just to keep things interesting for you.”

If I hadn’t felt totally emasculated and marginalized, my authority crippled by the horde of women who’d apparently taken over my practice recently, this was the clincher. It would appear that for this study I was going to be not much more than a coddled figurehead, a token man of straw, expected to satisfy the whims of some half-rate pharm company and this woman, at her beck and call. No way!

“I’m going to have to insist on directing care for, uh, the trial subjects,” I asserted, finally getting a moment to exert my will, “they will, technically, be my patients.”

“Oh, of course!” Gianna replied, smiling and throwing her hair over her shoulder, “Allowing for some oversight from the other providers we’ll have in place, you’ll have lots of medical-decision-making to keep yourself busy!”

What did she mean, ‘oversight’?

“They’ll be different than your usual patients, the subjects that we’ll be bringing in for the study, but I think you’ll like them,” she continued, trying to reassure me, “maybe a younger crowd, and of course all female. But in general all you’ll have to do is sit back and watch the money coming in.” She sat, looked into the screen for a moment, in thought. “Though I guess we have some people there handling that for you, too, hm?”

That gave me pause, made me rethink the litany of arguments that were beginning to boil up in my throat. I’d seen some of the paperwork, quickly, as it had moved past my desk for my signatures. It involved a lot of money for the practice. Like, a lot of money. I thought of my bills, my expenses, what I still somehow owed on my student loans. If Sheryl wasn’t going to be there to provide for me, help me pay these things…

If any of it remained, there was obviously some pride I was going to need to swallow.

“S-speaking of money,” I began, “what's my compensation going to look like?“

Something about my question, something about how I was holding myself, made Gianna smile again and then sigh, a sigh that told me she knew something I didn’t, I couldn’t help but think. With that she leaned in, her eyes locked on mine through the camera, and a shiver went up my spine. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. J,” she spoke, “you’ll be well taken care of...“

===================================

Muchos Gracias to long-time friend, supporter of the story and behind-the-scenes ninja Antares for helping me assemble these clips.

Newer posts and other goodies at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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trashcanmarvelfan · 5 years

Text

Best. Job. Ever 10/13

Summary: Reader gets a job on the set of Spider-Man: Far from Home for the 3 weeks they are shooting in New York City as what she thinks is a production assistant, but a twist of fate has her reassigned as Tom Holland’s personal assistant. As she & Tom grow close during filming, will their budding friendship turn to more or will they go their separate ways after filming concludes?

Warnings: Language, but that’s pretty much it? This is basically a PG-13 rom-com. (Legal) alcohol use as well but since it’s legal do I really need to tag it?

Word Count: 1307 for chapter 10.

Author’s Note: As this was written WAY before Spider-Man: Far from Home was released (actually before Avengers: Endgame was as well) I’ve kept plot details and which scene was being shot on what day extremely vague. Also, I’m American but tried to write Tom as British as possible, although I do think he’d try to stay(ish) in character and use as much American slang as he could while he’s still playing Peter.

Chapter-Specific Author’s Note: We’re getting closer to the end!

Requests are always open!

Cross-posted at AO3.

Y/N woke up late the next morning feeling miserable. Her last conversation with Tom came rushing back to her like a speeding train. Ugh. Get over it. It’s for the best.

She picked up her phone and unlocked it, quickly scrolling through her social media. To her immense relief, it didn’t appear that anyone had figured out that she was the woman in the picture of Tom at the nightclub. She flew through a shower and sent Tom a quick text. Running a few minutes behind. I’ll be there ASAP.

After a few seconds, her phone chimed with a text. Ok.

A lump formed in Y/N's throat. Who knew that such a short text could make her feel like she'd been stabbed in the gut? That's the problem, she thought. Tom never sends such short texts.

She groaned and chastised herself. Quit acting like a mopey teenager. Just get through this next week.

She ran downstairs, got her & Tom’s coffee, and ran back upstairs to Tom’s room. She knocked and Tom answered the door looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. He took his coffee from Y/N with a mumbled ‘thank you’ and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The ride to set was quiet, with Tom texting on his phone the entire way there. When they arrived to set, Tom finally spoke. “Could you please bring me another coffee with my croissant?” he asked quietly.

Y/N nodded. “Sure. We made good time getting to set so you don't have to be in hair and makeup yet, so I'll… meet you in your trailer?”

Tom nodded. “Ok.”

Y/N let out a deep breath as Tom walked away. This week was going to be hell.

She got Tom's breakfast and coffee and knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he replied.

Y/N set Tom's breakfast down and sat across from him.

Tom thanked her and took a sip of his coffee, but mostly picked at his pastry.

Y/N wondered if she had upset Tom somehow but then pushed the thought out of her mind. He must just be having an off day.

After a while they headed to hair and makeup where Tom's stylist took a look at him and said, “you're making me actually work today.”

Y/N had been reviewing the day's shooting schedule again so she missed Tom glancing over at her in the mirror when he said, “Yeah, just didn't sleep well last night.”

Once Tom was ready they headed to set and got through filming the morning's scenes. By lunch Tom was almost back to his cheerful self, except that he was more professional and a bit less overly friendly than usual toward Y/N.

The afternoon filming went as scheduled and soon it was time to head back to the hotel.

Y/N had ordered food to be delivered to the front desk and had paid with her credit card so they just picked it up on their way in and headed straight to Y/N's room.

They ate and made small talk, but it still wasn't quite like the rapport they had built up over the last few weeks. Finally the long stretches of awkward silence started to get to Y/N.

“Hey, are we okay?” she blurted out.

Tom looked up from a bite of lo mein in surprise. He swallowed and asked, “what do you mean?”

Y/N bit her lip. “You've seemed… off… today, and it kind of only seems to be around me. If I've done anything to upset you--” she stopped as a thought hit her. “I didn't tip anyone off to where we'd be Saturday night, if that's what you've been thinking.”

Tom shook his head. “No, I didn't think that. I know you wouldn't invade my privacy like that. More than likely someone just recognized me and posted the picture on Instagram and it got picked up by the gossip blogs.”

“I'm sorry you have to deal with that.” Y/N placed her hand over Tom's, then quickly removed it when she realized what she had done.

Tom gave her a wan smile. “Part of the job, I guess.” He shrugged. “But to answer your question, yes, we're fine. I'm just dealing with some things.”

They finished eating and cleaned up.

“Look, I'm going to turn in early because I'm totally knackered, but I'll see you tomorrow?” Tom said.

Y/N nodded. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Tom turned as if to go, then turned back around and gave Y/N a brief hug. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled as she hugged him back. “'Night, Tom.”

As Tom left, Y/N thought that maybe the final week of shooting wouldn't be so bad after all.

She checked her phone and upon seeing a missed call from Laura, realized that she had forgotten to take it off of silent after they had left set that afternoon.

She hit the call back button and Laura answered almost immediately. “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey, Laura, sorry I missed your call. I forgot my phone on silent.”

“That's okay,” Laura said. “Soooo, tell me more about your hookup with Mr. Hottie McBritish.”

Y/N laughed. “First off, it was just a kiss; definitely not a hookup. Secondly, nothing happened. I told him that we could just forget about it, that it was a drunken mistake.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I panicked, okay? He wanted to talk about it and I just knew that he was going to give me the ‘let’s just be friends’ speech, so I panicked and out came the word vomit.”

Laura sighed. “Oh, Y/N. You blew off this incredibly hot guy who's totally into you because you think he’s too good for you and that someone like him could never be interested in someone like you, right?”

Damn Laura for knowing me so well. “Why would he be interested in someone like me? I’m nobody.”

“How could he NOT be interested in you?” Laura replied. “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re one of the best people I know, you’re kind-hearted, and you’re amazing at anything you put your mind to. Besides, I don’t think that most celebrities spend THAT much time with their assistants. From what you’ve told me, you two have pretty much spent every waking moment together for the past two weeks, and even some non-waking moments as well. I definitely think he’s interested.”

Y/N groaned. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

“Gee, thanks for being so honest, Laur.”

Laura laughed gently. “That’s what I’m here for, sweetie.”

“But I mean, what were we supposed to do, date for a week? Filming will be over then Tom will be going back to London to live his life while I’ll be going to California to start my job. And I’m his assistant. There has to be some sort of ethical violation here.”

“You know, there are these wonderful inventions called telephones and computers that are used to communicate, Y/N, and these big steel things called airplanes that fly from London to L.A. and back. And please, loads of people hook up with their assistants. Besides like you said yourself, you're only his assistant for another week.”

“I don’t know, Laur. I think it’s best if I just leave well enough alone.”

Laura groaned. “Shoot, I have to go but I just wanna say real quick that I think you’re making a mistake not telling him that you’re interested in giving it a go with him, because you know what they say: drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Laur.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Y/N hung up and shook her head. Tom would be better off with someone from his world. She figured just being friends was the best.

TAGLIST: @laureharrier @thoughstofaredhead & @greenarrowhead

#tom holland rpf #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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