#so blatantly bent on this path | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

belokhvostikova · 1 year

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”

In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.

Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it.

“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”

Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed.

“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”

“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.

“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”

“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”

His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”

“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.

“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”

Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.

But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!

But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross.

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.

“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation.

“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out.

Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”

“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”

“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”

Gareth grimaced.

Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.

The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.

Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock.

Oh, fuck, he’s hard already.

But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-

“Hello?” Oh, shit.

“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!

“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?

He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?”

“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work.

“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”

“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”

“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.”

“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.

“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.

“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.

“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”

“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”

Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked-

Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?

Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers.

But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.

Long gone were the risks of parental interference.

Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight.

Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.

The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far.

But that was all too easy.

And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves.

“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.

You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.

“Huh…?”

“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”

Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.

What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night.

If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.

A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”

Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”

“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!

Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).

In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.

A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity.

“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”

“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes.

“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!

Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.

“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body.

A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.

“It’s okay, baby-”

“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”

There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”

The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.

“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.

And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished.

You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”

“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you?

“American- yeah, yeah, American History.”

“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”

“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches.

“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”

Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”

A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.

And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.

“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.

“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”

“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?”

“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers.

You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot.

“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”

Shit. “Uh…”

“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”

Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”

“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”

Fuck me.

Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.

“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”

“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.

“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”

“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”

Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”

You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.”

“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”

You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”

“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”

Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”

“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”

You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”

His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.”

“Uh…”

“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.”

“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle.

“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence.

Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered.

“Just relaxing? A small break?”

“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised.

Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?

“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.

The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.

And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything.

Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times.

He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked.

“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed.

“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger.

Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal.

But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”

“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.

“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.

He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”

“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.

“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”

“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”

“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”

“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged.

Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”

“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”

“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain.

“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”

You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”

Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.

Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability.

Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”

“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.”

“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”

“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face.

“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring.

“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached.

“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear.

He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”

“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”

“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”

Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible.

You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”

An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”

You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored.

“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion.

“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself?

“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.

“What do you do then, baby?”

Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words.

But you had never acted on impulsion.

And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question.

Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.

“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”

“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression.

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out.

“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.

Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”

“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”

A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off.

“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead.

“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”

Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined.

Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke.

“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”

“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”

“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”

You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”

“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”

“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal.

“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists.

A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”

“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”

Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum.

But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously.

And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command.

“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.

Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”

“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.”

Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body.

“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly. “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”

That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”

And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it.

“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.

His dream girl.

“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh.

A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months.

“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face.

“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness.

“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples.

“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously.

“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”

Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”

“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.”

Eddie Munson was a little weird.

But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel.

“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”

Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight.

“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.

“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand.

“Ow, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you.

“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum.

“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”

You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine.

Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.

“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose.

Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need.

“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”

“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”

“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”

“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him.

“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit.

“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency.

The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!”

Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.

“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion.

You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded.

His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”

The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny.

Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick.

His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.

“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting.

His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.”

“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”

Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.

Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”

While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”

He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years.

“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”

You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny.

His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.

The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs.

Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans.

“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you.

“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”

Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart.

“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.

Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”

“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.

“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-

“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled.

Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!

You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.

“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.

He cooed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson

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dontnoticemelol · 3 months

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Neteyam x Avatar reader

->Chapter 2

_______Chapter 3_______

The next few days went by like a blur. You hung out with Lo'ak and some of his friends. Neteyam however, was busy with his father-- completing various duties and patrolling.

Neteyam had always hated having to do these tasks because they diminished his ability to feel like a normal teenager. Part of the reason why you were able to become such close friends, was because you got comfort in confiding in each other. Both sharing your deepest secrets and views.

You would sometimes see him in the mornings and evenings, walking about with Jake. The two of you would always greet each other, this made you happy because you were speaking to each other again.

A celebration was going to be hosted in a few days by one of Lo'aks friends, and you had been invited. It was to celebrate a successful hunt in which he had participated, the week before.

It was the only thing talked about as the days led up to it.

The morning air felt fresh as you and Spider made your way over uto meet up with some of the Sully siblings. The two of you were lost in a random conversation, until Spider brought up the upcoming celebration.

"Are you going to the celebration?" He asked, turning his head to glance at you. Excitement bloomed as spoke. He looked ahead at the path and before you were able to reply, he continued.

"I know I am. It's going to be so much fun, I even heard Neteyam say he might go." He said, blatantly teasing you.

He smiled a little at that last part and looked over at you again.

You knew he was just trying to get a reaction out of you, him and Lo'ak were making it their mission to keep teasing you about your crush on Neteyam.

You scoffed softly at his statement," I don't see why Neteyam is always mentioned every time we talk about, well-- anything." You said, annoyed.

He laughed next to you, earning an eye roll from you.

"And no, I'm not going." You said.

"Not really a big fan of parties." You added. Even when you were on Earth, you had never liked going to parties.

You sped up your pace, inorder to avoid another conversation, where Neteyam would be mentioned.

When you arrived outside the Sully's residence, Kiri, Lo'ak and Tuk were waiting near the entrance. You and Spider greeted them, you then bent down to hug Tuk. She had always been so sweet, in fact on some occasions when she saw you she would give you necklaces she had made for you.

It always warmed your heart, but you were quite confused on why she had taken such a liking to you, she certainly didn't care about Spider as much, evident because she usually ignored him.

The five of you began walking to the lake, a chorus of talking and laughter radiating from your group.

Soon enough, you reached the lake. Spider and Lo'ak took the liberty of racing each other on the last stretch of the pathway.

"Loser gets to punch the other!" Lo'ak shouted, running as if his life depended on it, with Spider not far behind him. A loud splash was heard a few seconds later, and another one right after.

You and Kiri looked at each other and shook your heads whilst laughing.

You made your way over to the bank of the lake and sat down. Kiri sat down on your right, while Tuk was more interested in playing with the sand.

You looked over to Kiri, "So, are you going to the gathering?" You asked.

You heard her sigh. "Yeah... unfortunately, my parents are forcing me to go." She said whilst shifting to sit more comfortably.

"They said something about not wanting me to miss out or whatever." She added.

"Okay." You nodded looking over to the lake, then turned to her again.

"To be fair, they're kinda right. I honestly don't remember the last time you went to a gathering." You looked over to her, chuckling lightly.

She gave you an 'are you serious' face in response to your statement. Her face was slightly irritated.

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side-- since you're my friend. Besides, I already know you don't want to go either." She said, gesturing towards you.

You laughed softly, "Okay, you're right, I don't want to go either." You said.

You laughed more when she rolled her eyes at you.

"Can you please go to gathering-- for me at least?" She pleaded, as she put her hands together and made a sad face at you.

"It would be boring without you." She said.

The thought of being in a crowded area made you nervous. You sighed.

"Kiri, I-- dont know... sorry." You replied, putting your hand on her shoulder, comfortingly.

She looked back in front of her, looking moderately defeated. She didn't want to give up just yet though, so she tried one more time to convince you.

"We'll be together the whole time, and-- if you feel uncomfortable then we can leave." She said, looking at you and waiting for a response.

"I promise." She added.

You pondered for a few seconds, but ultimately, you gave in to your friend's pleading. You sighed, "Okay-- I'll go with you." You replied, and smiled at her.

You fell onto your left side when she jumped at you with no warning whatsoever, to hug you with so much force. You both laughed when you fell over, still in an embrace.

You were going to the celebration afterall. The memory of what Spider said began to circle your mind. Was Neteyam actually going to be there? You thought perhaps he would be too busy to attend.

This thought lingered in your mind for a while...

______________________

->Chapter 4

Thank you for reading, I appreciate every read! 🥺❤️❤️

#neteyam x y/n #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #kiri sully #loak sully #avatar the way of water #atwow

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crimsonxe · 6 months

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FF7 Rebirth spoilers below the cut:

I don't have a clue wtf just went on with Cloud deflecting Masamune but also not leading to Aerith's death but not. Its a such a bullshit thing that tries to have its cake and eat it too; but at least the other Aerith is still technically alive waiting to be woken up in one of the multiple worlds. And I guess "ghost Aerith" is technically still around too. Regardless to the "Aerith has to die" crowd: FUCK YOU. The reality is that she didn't actually need to die, there's not a damn thing that required that outside of edgelord incel shitbags that have a death kink. Which ironically fucking enough the ending of Rebirth even backs up cause there's even fucking LESS shown as to why she died. She sure as hell isn't going to be stopping Meteor nor would that require her dying; instead she does so because incel shitbags wanted it & the OG game did it. Interesting originality be fucked, instead stick to the same goddamn bad end route bullshit as the OG game. I'll stick around to see the trilogy finished, but I'm openly stating now that I'm 1/3rd checked the fuck out. Also just going to put this out there: don't even mention Cloti anywhere near me cause that's been thoroughly ruined and I don't look forward to whatever happens in part 3. And just ftr no I'm not a Clerith and actually ship Cloti in OG, but not in the R-trilogy where Aerti has shined far more via their closeness.

Hope it was worth it writers, you had the chance to actually do an interesting alternate route that rewards people that have been hoping for a "good end route" and who liked/loved Remake for its unique interesting new storyline. But instead chose to throw it away in such a bullshit manner to appeal/line up with the same shitheads that bashed Remake for daring to do its own thing; or to repeat the same goddamn story as before rather than forge a new path. And I can't stress enough how the way it was done is such a shitty ass manner. Either Cloud deflects Sephiroth's sword and Aerith lives or he fucking doesn't and she dies; either fate is changeable or its not; either there's a multiverse of unlimited potentials including Aerith living or there isn't; etc. Fuck 5% of Rebirth, the other 95% is great. Such a goddamn waste. If Nomura is the one responsible for Remake's "fuck Fate, let's make our own path" aspect, then plz let him be the main one heading up Part 3 to try to course correct back from the betrayal of the concept that Rebirth's last 5% did. Show the timeline where Cloud did indeed save Aerith and have that Aerith join the team; have them break Fate instead of treating it as some immutable thing cause fuck that; and no more bullshit like having someone block a strike then having the story backhand via shitty ass reality rewrites (a la Masamune stuck in the ground to the side from an unharmed Aerith that suddenly is reality warped to have blood on it and Aerith being hit with a phantom stabbing cause "Fate"). I'll easily take Remake's vision over Rebirth's last 5% (I have to stress this cause 95% of Rebirth is fantastic, its only the last 5% that is incel edgelord nihilistic garbage to justify killing off a character cause "that's what happened in OG".

And let me be clear on this: my anger isn't where it should be which at Sephiroth as the one that did the deed as the villain aka proper narrative writing. My anger instead is aimed at the bullshit method of how it was done, which isn't how a narrative should come across. All I see if the very blatantly check off box that was bent to reach. Remake was 95% good, 5% mindblowing and getting me heavily invested; Rebirth 95% great, 5% bullshit and throwing away an entire section of investment. I really am having to work to give a shit about the remaining characters, cause the writing's failing caused that level of collapse.

Since this is the rant post: While I give credit for mostly shying away from sexist incel tropes in regards to the femme characters; don't even think for a second I didn't notice the little things that are there still. Shiva having jiggle physics; and even Tifa being hit with them during particular side quests. Edit: So from what I've gathered the main case of Tifa having them is a matter of you're expected to have her swimsuit on at that point, instead of her regular one; so while still annoying cause jiggle physic shouldn't be there at all its at least not in defiance of her sports bra that'd be more egregious.

I'm fucking done.

The really infuriating part is that I'd STILL give Rebirth like an 8/10 or even 9/10; cause as I've repeatedly mentioned 95% is just THAT damn good.

#final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ff7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #spoilers #rant

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rexsjaigeyes · 4 years

Text

Exposed - Part 1

Din Djarin x female reader | NSFW, 18+

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: a hint of voyeurism/exhibitionism (Din watches you touch yourself), dry humping, Din cums untouched bc I said he can

A/N: I’m back, baby. Hope y’all enjoy the new era of filth.

You weren't sure what you did to deserve such sweet torture from someone as stern as the Mandalorian. Maybe you looked at him a weird way or did something to piss him off. It was always so hard to tell what he was thinking since you could never see a single inch of his face.

You wished you could see his face now. It would make things a lot easier if you could see just one expression. Just one crack in his perfectly-crafted demeanor that gave you an insight into what he was thinking. You especially wished you had that insight when you were walking through the crowded marketplace a little less than an hour ago.

It was a peaceful moment before something unexplainable changed, and he snapped. Some invisible tension between the two of you finally came to a head, and before you could wrap your mind around what was happening, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to the Razor Crest.

The child was swiftly placed in his crib, and you were soon ushered into the cockpit by the intimidating man you've come to know as a friend. You knew better than to question him; he'd taught you that lesson before. So instead of giving him an exasperated or confused look, you waited.

The wait felt like an eternity. Mando was always a man of few words, so you had learned to be patient when talking to him. But this time, your patience wore thin as he just stood there and stared at you.

You dragged your eyes down his body, noticing the blurred outline of your curves reflected in his beskar. His large, unyielding form seemed to take up most of the room. The realization made you shiver, and you yearned for him to say anything to break the tense silence.

You immediately regretted that yearning once he uttered the simple command, "Strip."

With the tilt of his head and a single word that caused your heart to beat faster, he had you in the palm of his hands – right where he wanted you. So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that he got you this far: stripped naked and touching the most intimate part of your body while he watched and instructed your movements from the other seat in the cockpit.

You never imagined Mando would see you like this, and you never thought he'd utter such filthy words to you while you rubbed circles around your clit. A litany of his strict commands filled the air and you followed them all with no hesitation.

"Rub your clit faster," he muttered. You hardly registered the words before you did as he said. "That's it, keep that pace."

A low hiss could be heard through the static of his helmet before he groaned, "Spread your legs wider. I want a good view…"

Your head spun from how he expertly controlled your movements without even touching you. Mando was normally so quiet; this was the most he had ever said to you. It was as if a barrier broke between the two of you, and he was finally free to say what he'd been aching to say for so long.

Your body felt like it was on fire, and you could feel the faint pulse of your heartbeat throbbing within your lower body. It was intoxicating and torturous all at once. You needed more, but you knew you wouldn't get more until he allowed it. For now, you were bound by Mando’s unwavering gaze and his very specific instructions.

His firm tone filtered through his helmet so effortlessly that you wondered how he could be so confident in the dirty things he said to you. Had he practiced before? Or was there some way he knew exactly what you needed to hear? Either way, you couldn't help but tremble as he told you to slide two fingers inside your pussy.

You obeyed, of course – you wouldn't dare disobey the Mandalorian. As you pushed two fingers inside yourself, you made the mistake of looking up at him the moment the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive spot.

A desperate moan escaped your lips as your eyes met the 'T' of his helmet. You didn't need to see his face to know that he was watching every twitch of your body with immense satisfaction. A part of you hated how easily he reduced you to a quivering mess. A faceless man held so much power over you. You should have been scared of that realization, but instead, it only turned you on even more.

The small tilt of his head told you that he knew exactly how much of an effect he had on you. You curled your fingers and fucked yourself a bit faster, unable to take your eyes off him. Heat rushed to your chest and neck as you kept your eyes glued to his helmet. But as you let out another needy moan, a small shuffle of his body ripped your gaze away until it landed on his hands.

He gripped his thighs tighter than you had noticed before, balling his hands into fists when you whimpered softly. The tell was miniscule, but you noticed it nonetheless – the sounds you made were turning him on.

You moaned again, putting more emphasis in it this time, and you watched him fiddle with the fabric of his pants in response. The moment was soon interrupted by his gruff voice muttering another demand.

"Look back up at me. Don't take your eyes off mine." He sounded almost breathless now, and you knew that was a sign of how much he loved the way you moaned for him.

You didn't bother to remind him that you couldn't see his eyes – you knew what he meant. Besides, there was something so intense about staring at a blank mask, and you could tell his eyes were on yours by the way he started fidgeting in his seat.

Your cries grew louder as you continued pressing against the spot that made your toes curl. Desperation gnawed at your insides and your body craved something more. Your fingers weren't enough, and you felt too cold without the warmth of someone holding you close.

Despite the ache you felt, you were too scared to ruin the moment by asking for what you wanted. Instead of words, a small whine left your mouth as your eyes briefly flitted down to see the bulge in Mando’s pants. You whimpered when you realized how large he was, even within the confines of the tight fabric. You needed him so badly that you didn't bother hiding the way you blatantly stared at his crotch while whining for him. To your surprise, he broke the silence and said yet another thing that you never expected him to say.

"What's wrong? Is there something you want?"

You had never heard him use such a playful tone before, and it sent shivers down your spine. Without hesitation, you nodded frantically, not caring about whether or not he was only teasing you.

"I want to feel you," you whispered. You weren't sure how far you could go without breaking his Creed, so your sentence trailed off in uncertainty.

Luckily, he was satisfied with your response and beckoned you to his lap with the pat of a hand. You wasted no time in scrambling out of your seat and straddling him. His beskar felt ice cold against your bare skin, but the amount of heat that radiated from his crotch was enough to make you forget about the pricks of cold metal.

His large body effortlessly engulfed yours, and you tried not to shudder as your eyes met his helmet once more. He tilted his head to one side, and you knew what he was silently demanding you to do. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you slowly rocked your hips against his, testing his reaction.

He gripped your hips tightly, but he let you control the pace. Mando's body felt rigid against yours – a stark contrast to your frantic movements on his lap. He didn't seem to care about his own pleasure, and you realized he wanted you to use him for yours.

He was at your service, letting you take whatever you wanted from him. You rocked faster, feeling the pleasure build within your body. You could feel his cock grow harder beneath his pants, but he didn't ask you to move a certain way or focus on his body. He just watched as you gave into the feeling and struggled to keep your composure.

He bent his head down slightly, as if to press a kiss against your neck, but you were met with steel. The blunt bottom lip of his helmet dug into your shoulder, and you imagined what it would be like if you could feel his warm skin there instead. He grunted as you moved your hips faster. The sound went straight to your core, and you moaned in response.

You gasped as he brought one hand up to your neck, the leather of his glove feeling oddly cold against your flushed skin. You stilled your movements for a moment, wondering why he placed your hand on your neck. He wasn’t cutting off any of your air, but he held your chin up – ensuring your gaze stayed on his shiny helmet. His thumb caressed your jawline, tracing a small path towards your bottom lip. He wasn’t doing this to intimidate you; it was only to keep you there before his head tilted forward and rested against your forehead.

You resumed your movements, spurred on by how intimate the moment felt. His visor fogged with each of your heavy exhales, but he didn’t seem to mind. With each desperate rock of your hips, you wondered if he was looking straight into your eyes, waiting for that moment when your pleasure washed over your face.

"Are you close?" He asked in a soft whisper.

He didn't even need to ask – your body language gave everything away – but he wanted to hear you say it, so he repeated the question louder. You barely registered the question before your mouth fell open and you nodded with a whine. A satisfied huff could be heard through his helmet before he pushed your hips down with his other hand, helping you grind harder on him.

"Cum for me,” he whispered. “I want to see you let go."

His demand left you reeling. You gave into your pleasure and felt your release wash over your body as you grasped at his shoulders. He groaned softly, keeping your hips firmly in place as you rode out your orgasm. You felt him twitch in his pants before he came shortly after you, adding to the mess you had made on his lap.

Heavy panting echoed through the cockpit as the two of you caught your breath. He kept his tight grip on your hips, but your foggy mind started to clear, and you hid your reddening face in the crook of his neck. You were too embarrassed to move away, but it didn’t seem like he would have allowed it anyway.

You weren't sure what to make of the situation, especially since you knew he'd always be closed off with his armor and hidden inner thoughts. His touch was almost loving – maybe even possessive – but you knew that couldn't be true. This wasn't a part of his Creed, you knew that much. Your heart sunk at the thought that he'd probably never expose himself to you the way you had done for him without a second thought.

The Mandalorian owned every inch of your body and your heart, but the man behind the helmet would always be a mystery to you.

-------------

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Should I make a Mando tag list and if so, who wants to be on it?

#divswrites #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

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archer3-13 · 3 years

Text

some manfred von karma HC's i guess:

- obviously comes from old money, and i mean VERY old money. that said they arent the richest of those kinds of families around so they make up for it in connections and social standing. as such the extended family are generally hellbent on being the best in whatever field they pursue.

- manfred has been stated as having been a lot more well intentioned to begin with but got bent as time went on. i would assume that he was never exactly pleasant though, haughty and full of himself in that assumption of inherent superiority kinda way. he was very interested in law and justice back in the day however, and took to prosecuting quite naturally out of a desire to send 'evil' down the river.

- however that desire also worked against him overtime as he got more experienced and importantly more jaded and full of himself. it was a black and white binary view on law in the end, that morphed into an arrogant and obsessive assumption that even being sent to trial was a crime worthy of punishment in of itself, which eventually morphed into his win at all costs mindset as he lost sight of justice and the truth entirely.

- now an established name hes pretty rightly feared as a walking demon capable of burning down anyone's career should they cross paths with him. and for a while that indomitable reputation holds. then gregory comes into the picture.

- theres the penalty on his perfect record obviously but theres also a mixture of other factors that lead to von karma making the choice he does. the trial being dragged out for a year, the embarrassments of being so blatantly caught on the backfoot, being taken to task by some no name podunk defense attorney, and not even being able to destroy the man in court as recompense. its a volatile cocktail that explodes just right with a little bit of confusion, exhaustion and pain into coldblooded and uncommonly impulsive murder to the methodical man.

- his reputation never quite recovers after his vacation. hes still feared as a demon attorney, and he does quite a lot to 'make up for the embarrassment' but theres always going to be that chink in his armour to remind people hes not that hot. his extend family have a tendency to needle him about this to his frustration.

- despite being an 'exemplary von karma', manfreds not very close with others in his extended family outside of the minimum obligations. part of it is how busy his work keeps him, part of it is how tiresome he finds most of them. he has a few exceptions such as his unseen sibling but even then hes clearly kind of stiff about it.

- met his wife later in life, around the peak of his career before dl-6. genuinely infatuated with her in his own way to the point of blowing off an arranged marriage, in part because he and his wife share a lot of hyper competitive and perfectionist behaviors. his wife is a well known police officer in his home country, which is how they met. and like him shes regarded as something of a terror with a shady as hell reputation [forging evidence together is so romantic]. following manfreds conviction shes put under a lot of scrutiny herself and eventually gets convicted as well, albeit not on murder charges.

- well hes a begrudging pride of the family, the von karmas generally pretend he doesnt exist after his conviction. in part because of embarrassment at him getting caught in part to save their own reputations.

- the extended von karma family generally hated edgeworth and questioned manfred on his adoption of the boy all the time. manfred for his part did the usual responsibilities of a parent but had a tendency to be distant to edgeworth, especially early on, treating their relation as more of a mentor student one then a parental one. the sheer stratospheric rise of edgeworths career is in part a testimony to manfreds ability as a mentor.

- never the warmest of people, he practically doted on Franziska by his standards especially because of how much later in life he and his wife had her. eventually acted a bit warmer to edgeworth in part because of Franziska's insistence.

- dislikes children's birthday parties but that wont stop him from throwing the perfect birthday party out of stubborn pride.

- loves to brag about the most innocuous of talents and things in other people. "my protegee edgeworth can whistle all manner of songs in perfect pitch, and yet he is not even a singer! that his the depths of his talent in all things!"

- to an extent the conviction came as something of a relief to the mental house of cards manfred had built. perfection, failure, the murder, the von karma name, now none of it would matter for however long he had left. in that manner it was the relief of being well and truly beaten for the first and last time.

#ace attorney

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putas-in-suffering · 4 years

Text

Angel’s Angel

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Fluff, SFW

Warnings: Language, vague mentions of sex (nothing explicit), Angel’s slick ass mouth

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Revealing your Halloween costume has Angel feeling a type of way 😈😇

A/N: Angel is up next and he’s impatient when it comes to surprises FYI. We’ve had this one written for awhile and it’s what essentially inspired our sucia fluff fest. We hope you guys like it! Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated. 💖💖

**We’ve added a smutty part 2! Check it out here.

(Gif credit to the talented @angels-reyes)

You adjusted the headband on your head, the halo attached to it wiggling with the movements. You could hear Angel getting restless in the bedroom, your promise of almost being done a blatant lie the longer the minutes ticked by.

You were putting the finishing touches on your costume. It was a surprise for your boyfriend. You’d been able to keep the secret for weeks, telling him you’d rather reveal the costume on the night of the MC’s Halloween party. He’d been bugging you about it constantly since, but you hadn’t budged.

Tonight his patience was running thin.

“Baby, come on! We’re gonna be late.” He called from behind the door of the en suite bathroom.

“Okay, I’m done!” You yelled back, giving yourself a final once over before stepping towards the bedroom.

You opened the door to see Angel seated on the end of the bed, phone in hand and eyes trained on the screen. His fingers were typing furiously, his attention fully captured by whoever was texting him.

“Yo, EZ says Gilly definitely showed up in the dress. I knew he wouldn’t back down from a bet.” Angel said with a laugh and shake of his head.

A few weeks ago Angel had come home to say Gilly had lost an undisclosed bet between the guys and the payment was to dress as a woman to the Halloween party. He’d been doubtful the man would even do it. Apparently he’d come through.

“Well, that should be fun to see.” You quipped as you stepped into the bedroom, moving towards Angel.

His fingers finally stopped moving as he pocketed his phone and took you in. His dark eyes scanned your figure, clad in a white babydoll dress, angel wings, and white platform heels. Your makeup was overdone, the silver and white glitter around your eyes making you look ethereal. The halo atop your head was the final touch.

Angel’s gaze never faltered as he stood and met you in the center of the room. You wore a smug smile as he licked his lips and pulled you to him, hands attaching to your hips and clinging to the delicate chiffon of your dress. Your palms rested against the leather of his kutte, feeling the firmness of his chest beneath you.

“You like it?” You dared to ask, knowing the question was futile. The answer was in his eyes.

His fingers gripped at your flesh, his body pressing into yours as his stare shifted to the hefty amount of cleavage the lace bodice displayed. A sheen of highlighter trailed along your collarbone and décolletage, instinctively pulling the human eye to the area.

“Like doesn’t even begin to cover it, mama. Shit…” He rasped as he blatantly ogled you.

Your body responded with a shiver.

“Thought I’d go as your angel for Halloween. Cheesy, right?” You prompted with a scrunch of your nose. Your arms encircled his neck, playing with the longer strands of hair that rested there.

“I don’t care how cheesy it is. You look fine as fuck.” His eyes roamed your body once again, his fingers playing with the hem of your short dress.

“It’s our first Halloween together and I wanted to do something special.” You explained unnecessarily, feeling bashful under his intense study of you.

“Baby,” He started, stepping back to twirl you, getting a full view of your costume. “This is the fucking nicest...hottest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He boasted, his bearded lips breaking out into a pleased smirk.

“Really?” You asked in disbelief, an eyebrow raised in doubt as he pressed your body against his.

His hands slid down your curves to grasp at your ass, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The look in his eyes quickly shifted from innocent playfulness to desire-fueled hunger.

“Really.” He confirmed as he bent down to pepper kisses to your exposed neck. “Don’t even wanna go to this party anymore.” He confessed against your flesh, his hot breath fanning across your skin in quick pants.

You got lost in the feel of him, recognizing the shift in his hips as he brushed them along your body. There was excitement in his actions; a need to become as close to you as possible. It was a need you felt within yourself as well, his touch fanning the flames.

“We’re going, Angel. I got all dressed up.” You insisted breathily, feeling his teeth graze the column of your neck. The motion caused your eyes to roll into the back of your head, the faux lashes you wore fluttering with the movement.

“When we get home then? You’ll let me fuck you with those wings and halo on?” He baited, tongue licking a sensuous path along your neck and up to your ear.

You whimpered at his words, the prospect of letting him do as he pleased causing your thighs to squeeze together and your insides to warm.

“Yeah…” You replied, biting your lip as he rocked his pelvis into yours. “Maybe I’ll let you do that while we’re at the party.” You teased, hearing him growl in response.

“Fuck…”

He continued to explore, his hands running the length of your body. His mouth eagerly consumed you and you let him. Let him push you so close to the edge that you nearly caved and let him take you to bed.

The vibrating text tone of his cell phone interrupted the moment.

“We should go, baby.” You urged, attempting to reel the situation back to its neglected path.

Angel pulled away with a sigh, patting your ass as he did. “We aren’t staying long.” He said sternly, the seriousness in his expression almost comical.

“Whatever you say.” You said with a laugh, belatedly taking in his own outfit. “Where’s your costume?”

“Right here.” He turned to grab something off the dresser, lifting the unknown item to set it carefully on top of his inky locks.

“How’d you know?” You asked in surprise as he adjusted the set of red horns on his head.

“I didn’t. Just easy.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. It was just like a man to throw on an accessory and call it a costume.

“We make quite a pair.” You mused, helping him with the headband. The red flannel shirt he wore was a perfect compliment to the horns, the devilish smirk he wore an even better addition.

He was sin personified.

“Sure do.”

He pulled you into a kiss, stealing your breath as his tongue tangled with yours. His hands cradled your cheeks, careful of the makeup you’d applied. Your own threaded through his beard, pulling gently at the hair when he began to nibble at your lips.

You separated when air became an issue.

“Come on,” He started, pulling you by the hand and towards the open bedroom door. “The sooner we get there, the sooner you’ll let me slip my way into heaven.”

He winked at you, making you melt into your white lace panties. The man made filthy thoughts rush through your mind, your costume a complete farce as temptation lured you into its grasp.

You may be Angel’s angel for the night, but you prayed he made good on his ungodly promise.

Sucia Tag List:

@marvelmaree

@visintaes

@otomefromtheheart

@aquarius-smr-writing

@glimmerglittergirl

@arveeee

@fangirlingaesthetics

@maciiiofficial

@woahitslucyylu

@angelreyesgirl

@ifoundmyhappythought

@mheart27

@collegegirl83

@luna8819

@enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

@everyhowlmarksthedead

@whatupitshuff

@noz4a2

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@minnicelli

@claytoncardenasbabymama

@brattyfics

@starrynite7114

@losolvidad0s

@prdsdjarin

@pearlkitten33

@iambabyharry

@spnaquakindgdom

@gemini0410

@lakamaa12

@destynelseclipsa

@mayans-sauce

@dandywinchesterbras

@basickassandra

@krysiewithak

#sucia fall fluff fest #fall fluff fest #angel reyes #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc fx

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adenei · 3 years

Text

Summer of Jily Week 4

It's week 4 for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily challenge! You sure did send me for a loop with this one, but I've managed to keep the one-shots turned multi chap story going!

This week's prompts: Picking Berries and "I know I kissed you before, but I didn't do it right."

Read on AO3

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

James didn’t sleep at all that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the carnival. His thoughts shifted between being mad at Sirius for winning that damn prize and presenting it to Lily—that was his stupid, cheesy plan that his best mate had hijacked—and the Ferris wheel ride.

About saving your letters or waiting for you to ask me out?

How could he have been so thick? And how is it that he keeps royally mucking things up? He’d had the perfect opportunity to kiss Lily right there on the ride, but then it had to move again, and he’d gotten sidetracked at the feeling of flying on a muggle contraption.

Hadn’t he come along with the boys to crash the girls trip so he could spend more time with Lily? He’d devised the perfect opportunity to sweep her off her feet, and he swore to himself he would only ask her out if she made it blatantly obvious that she wanted him to. As much as it killed him, he’d rather not lose her friendship over pressing her one too many times.

But now, she had made it clear that she was waiting for him to make a move, and what does he do instead? Lets her walk away after the sunrise, hits her with a ball by the lake, and then avoids her throughout the entire carnival until their friends force them to share a compartment on that bloody ride.

He’d had the perfect opportunity to kiss her right there, to ask her to be his girlfriend, and what does he do instead? Freezes. James Potter, master of smooth pick-up lines, carefree, easy-going Gryffindor heartthrob (says the Hogwarts gossip circle, not that he pays attention to any of that—why would he when he’s got his heart set on one girl?) freezes.

Well, he didn’t totally freeze. After they’d apparated back to the cabin, he and Lily were the last two in the sitting area before they went to bed. He walked her to the door of the girl’s room and kissed her on the cheek before bidding her goodnight.

It had taken all of his willpower to not pull her into his arms and snog her senseless after her confession earlier that evening. Yet, after seeing her disappointed face before she shut the door to the bedroom, he wished he had. She’d thrown his entire game off, and he needed to fix it before he lost his chance with Lily for good.

Resigning himself to the fact that he was awake to see another sunrise, James dragged himself out of bed and picked up his glasses on the nightstand before stepping around the mattress on the floor where Peter currently snored away. He grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and threw it on before slipping out of the bedroom.

It was lighter out than he was expecting, meaning he’d probably missed the sunrise. The boys preferred to sleep in pitch black, but the spell they cast on the window the night before was fading, allowing the daybreak to sift through and consequently throwing off his sense of time. He started the coffee pot and leaned against the counter while he waited for the pot to brew.

Caffeine would be necessary to stay awake today, or maybe he could sneak a nap in at some point. Hell, maybe he’d be able to convince Lily to join him for said nap. He could think of plenty of things they could get up to whilst they were in bed together. James let his mind wander to thoughts of getting to know her in a more intimate setting. The kind that he’d often wank to when he needed a release.

The rich smell of dark roast wafted through the living area. James forced his thoughts away from images of Lily writhing beneath him as he reached for a mug. He only barely heard the click of a door as he pulled the pot off to pour himself a cup.

“Another early morning?”

James looked up to see Lily standing there, her hair messy from sleep. She ran her fingers through it in an attempt to comb it out. The green of her eyes were barely visible under still somewhat droopy eyelids. Something stirred within him, and despite the fact that he was only seventeen, it was a view he knew he could get used to.

“That would imply I slept. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, but I couldn’t resist the smell of coffee. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Peter’s snoring reached new levels last night.”

The lie slipped off his lips with ease, although it wasn’t altogether convincing. A simple Muffliato charm would have allowed him the peace and quiet he needed to fall asleep. Her skeptical look wasn’t lost on him as he absent-mindedly began fixing the cup he’d poured with the amount of milk and sugar Lily preferred. He wasn’t aware he was doing it until he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Since when do you know how I take my coffee?”

“Come on, Evans, you don’t think I’ve noticed? Some things stick after eating breakfast with someone over the last year.” James smirked.

He grabbed another mug from the cabinet and poured his own cup without adding anything to it. James blew over the dark brown liquid to help cool it off as he watched Lily take a minuscule sip of her own.

“That’s fair. I still don’t know how you can drink yours black.”

“Some say I’m sweet enough on my own.” The quip was automatic as Lily laughed at his humor.

Merlin, her laugh is infectious. James swore the reason he said half of the stuff he did was so he could hear her laugh.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

The question came from nowhere, but the early morning was so peaceful that he wanted to experience it with her, preferably hand in hand.

“Sure.”

They left their coffee mugs abandoned on the Formica as they headed to the door and slid on their shoes. Lily grabbed a jacket off the coat rack and zipped it up halfway. James closed the door quietly behind him then led her over to the trail he and the boys explored yesterday. The path wasn’t terribly long, but it ended up in a quiet and secluded area where the lake met pebbled terrain.

“So, was the dolphin a good sleeping partner?” James’s voice cut through the light layer of morning fog.

Lily chuckled. “I don’t know, I let Marly sleep with him instead.”

“Ah, Sirius will be heartbroken if he learns of your betrayal.” His words were meant to be a joke, yet they didn’t come across as lighthearted as he’d hoped.

“Well, good thing you won’t tell him. Right?” Lily’s questioning eyes made James’s heart skip a beat.

“I suppose I can keep your secret, Evans, but it’ll cost you.”

“Oh? And what might that price be, Potter?”

The green of the trees and shrubbery only enhanced the sparkle that glinted in her eyes. James wondered if she was testing him. Shouldn’t she know by now that he never backed down from a challenge?

“Ditch your friends and spend the day with me instead.”

“Like a date?”

“Yes, Evans, like a date.”

“Well, good thing we’re getting an early start. Now we can make the most of the day.”

James grinned at Lily’s acceptance as they continued down the trail.

They were nearly at the clearing by the water when Lily stopped, causing James to turn around. “Is this the path you and the boys were on yesterday afternoon?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, when Mary asked if you found anything interesting, you said no.”

“Because there isn’t…”

“That’s not true! Look at the blackberry bushes over there!”

James’s head turned to the direction Lily was pointing at, and sure enough, there were several bushes, low to the ground and full of clumps of blackberries. Lily bent down to pick a few off the branches.

“How do you know they’re blackberries and not nightshade or something?”

“Honestly, Potter, did you not pay attention when Sprout taught that unit on edible plants and where to find them in the wilderness?”

“No? Guess I was a bit distracted.”

“Nightshade grows off the stem in one circle. They look more like blueberries, except they’re shinier and darker. Blackberries have all the little bumps on them like this. Almost like a raspberry, but a different color.”

Lily picked a handful of berries during her explanation and stood when she was finished. James saw her holding them delicately in an effort to stop them staining her hands. Using her forefinger and thumb, she picked one up and held it to James’s mouth.

“Try it.”

James opened his mouth and let her place the berry on his tongue. He locked eyes with her as his lips closed around her fingers. An explosion of flavor bursts on his tongue as he bit down on the fruit. The tartness caused him to squint and pucker his lips slightly. Lily smiled at his reaction as she popped a couple berries in her mouth.

She was right—they tasted way better when picked fresh. He held out his hand for more, and she gave him a couple to munch on as they continued walking through the woods. James’s brain was fixated on the way she fed him as his feet moved him forward. Their hands grazed against each other, and James held on after the third bump. He felt her fingers intertwine with his as their steps aligned on the dirt path. As they inched their way toward the rocky clearing of the lake, a plan formed in his mind, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to match Lily’s brazenness of the night before and kick off their day-long date properly.

“Oh, wow,” she whispered as the trail gave way to the stunning view of the calm water ahead of them. The fog had settled across the still water, preventing them from seeing the other side of the lake.

“Lily—”

“Okay, the berries were one thing, but hiding this view from us? How—” Lily froze mid-sentence as comprehension dawned on her. “Did you just call me Lily?”

“Yeah, I did, but please go on about how we didn’t tell you about this.”

“No, I think I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

“You sure? I know how much you love being able to prove us wrong.”

James paused, waiting for Lily’s reaction. He loved riling her up like this. The way he alluded to something but then held it just out of her grasp to ensure that she truly wanted to know what he had to say. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he waited.

“What do you mean, am I sure? Would I have asked you to tell me if I wasn’t?”

He thought about keeping up with the banter, but he was tired of waiting.

“That’s fair. Look, I know I kissed you before—y’know, last night—but I didn’t do it right, and I’d like to make up for that right now if you’ll let me.”

There was a sharp intake of air, and if James could pat himself on the back for catching Lily off-guard, he would. But she regained her composure before shooting a challenging look in his direction.

“Since when does James Potter ask permission before kissing a girl? I thought he—how did Sirius put it? Sets his eyes on what he wants and goes for it?”

James chuckled and cringed at the same time, remembering how Sirius explained James’s intentions during fifth year.

“Well, as true as that may be, I still try to be a gentleman about it. I’d never make an unwanted advance if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Interesting, considering I thought I made it clear what I wanted last night.”

Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or did Lily just take a tiny step forward?

“Is that so?”

“It is. And it sounds like you’re stalling.”

“Please, Evans, you’d know when I’d be stalling.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

The words barely escaped her mouth, James didn’t waste any more time as his hands lifted to cup Lily’s face. He leaned in and captured her lips with his, the tangy taste of the berries still lingering on her mouth. Everything about Lily’s lips were soft and inviting as her hands found a home on his lower back. He felt her mouth open slightly as her teeth grazed his bottom lip, eliciting a small moan from his mouth.

James deepened the kiss as his tongue swiped across her lips. Her hands pushed him closer as her mouth widened, inviting him to explore. A quack in the distance was the only thing that reminded them where they were, as James slowly broke away. She was more beautiful than he remembered, with her lips swollen from his kiss and the dazed look of bliss on her face.

“Well, I’m used to ending the date with a kiss, not starting it,” her words were breathless.

James chuckled at Lily’s words. “Am I to take that as a good or bad thing?”

“Good. Very good.”

“And just imagine, we’ve got the whole day ahead of us now.”

“This is true. Should we head back and get ready for the rest of the day?”

“Sounds brilliant.”

James had no idea what they were going to do for the day, but he planned on making the most of their time spent together. Nothing could go wrong.

#summerofjily #jily #jily fic #james potter #lily evans #james x lily

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axther · 4 years

Text

in the golden afternoon

tamaki x reader: in the golden afternoon

in which the reader falls into a place called Wonderland, and meets the knave of hearts who is far too soft spoken to be a knight. for @mortedeveles tw: mentions of beheading

Wonderland was a strange place, YN realised.

Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure how she got there; she was on a walk when she tripped over a hole, and there she was, plummeting down and down and down through the most unusual rabbit tunnel. It was like a drug trip and made YN dizzier than she would’ve liked. But when she finally landed, she realised that this world was much stranger than her own. It was upside down and inside out, where nowhere was everywhere and everywhere was anywhere. Paths erased themselves and the sky was a strange shade of purple mixed with blue. Huge pine trees had pale pink roses on them, and the grass was maroon. Flowers spoke with sharp tones and lilting song, rocking-horse flies flitted around, and YN would shrink and grow at the world’s whims. There were no rules, and YN learned to obey. One of the non-rules was told to YN by a young man with purple hair and wide, toothy grin. He called himself the Cheshire Cat, as he reclined lazily along a tree branch and swung his tail around. All ways here, you see, are the King’s ways, he purred. Oh, but don’t worry. He’d be just mad about you. YN wasn’t sure what the Cat meant by that, but his lavender eyes narrowed, and she didn’t feel any comfort. He took it upon himself, strangely enough, to follow YN through her journey into Wonderland. He gave snippets of twisted wisdom and often got her into trouble, but she couldn’t find herself to become angry at him. He was a companion that she found herself grateful for in the long dark ways of Wonderland. She ended up wandering into the gardens of the Red King, seeing several young men furiously painting several white roses. The Cat floated around above her, watching the men work. “My, my, they are truly working themselves hard.” The Cat grinned, wrapping his tail around YN’s shoulders. “It’s almost like their lives depend on it~!” “Do you suppose that’s why?” YN tilted her head, looking at the Cat and then back to the men. “They’re very rushed.” YN bent down to pick up a stray paint can and brush, and prodded the brush around in the bucket. The red paint was more akin to blood, wet and dripping onto the grass. Strangely, the grass looked to once be green, if the spots unpainted meant anything, but the young men had been so sloppy with their job that it had gotten everywhere. The roses were very blatantly painted, hardly drying before they moved onto another flower. The leaves were dripping and the branches were stained, and YN slowly walked up to the three they were working on. “Hullo,” She moved around so she could see the three men, each of whom jumped before working twice as fast. One had bright green hair that flopped around his face, the paint smattering over his freckles and making him look like a Christmas decoration. The one next to him looked angry, almost stabbing the roses in his fury. The last looked, in a word, dumb, painting his fingers more than the roses and getting it all over his blonde hair. He had a strange mark that was like a lightning bolt across the side of his hair, and it seemed so out of place with the rest of him that YN cast him a strange look. “Huh?!” The second worker turned, and with a growl, swung his paintbrush at YN without hitting her, and went back to work. “Get outta here! Fuckin idiot!!” “What?” YN reeled back, pursing her lips with an angry stare. “How rude!” “You fuckin heard me!” The man barked, growling like a dog. “We’re busy!” “W-wait!” The green-haired one stopped the blonde in his tracks with a yelp. “Kaachan! Be nice! Maybe she can help us!” “Oh?” The Cheshire Cat grinned. “Being recruited, are we?” “Shush, you mangy thing.” YN huffed, tightening her hold on the paint can and addressing the three. “Why are you painting the roses red?” “Well, y-you see, the Red King wanted red roses.” The green-haired one stuttered, biting his lip and getting back to work. “And fucking Socket Licker planted white roses!” Kaachan hissed, finishing up the tree. The last blonde jumped, peering at YN and the others. “Huh? Is something up?” “Denki, not now.” “Oh. OK!” Denki started walking over to the tree that Kaachan was working on, working on a rose that was already painted. The green-haired man hung back, looking to YN. “Uh...I’m Midoriya, and that’s Bakugou and Denki. Would you be willing to help us? It would really be awesome!” “Very well, then.” YN furrowed her brow and walked up to the tree, painting gently so it actually looked convincingly like a red rose. Bakugou and Midoriya were both doing relatively good jobs, but Denki’s painting was sloppy enough that white portions were left open. YN tried to cover several of them up, but before she could get far, trumpets starting sounded from across the hedge maze. The three jumped, scampering around and trying to paint any roses they saw with a single swipe of red. It didn’t do much, but then the White Rabbit walked mutely in with a small frown and sighed, raising a piece of parchment and beginning to read from it. “His imperial highness, his grace, his excellency, her royal majesty, the King of Hearts, and the Knave of Hearts.” Midoriya, Bakugou, and Denki all got down onto their knees (though Bakugou seemed far more reluctant). YN glanced at them, and then got onto her knees as well and shoved her nose into the grass. The White Rabbit shuffled to the side and rolled his eyes (YN realised, peaking up, that they were two different colours) as another man stepped into view. He had a completely smug grin on his face and blonde hair that was flat and oddly natural. His blue eyes scanned over the flowers, before slowly sauntering over to the roses. Paint still dripped down from them, and YN paled at the thought of what the Red King was going to do. If these three were so freaked out, then what was his usual reaction? “Ah, yes...the red royal roses.” He whispered, caressing the roses gently in his hands. He brought it up to his nose, took a deep breath, and pulled away again. Abruptly, he ripped it off of the tree and threw it onto the ground, angrily stomping on it with his foot. “Then why the hell are they painted?!” He howled, turning to the trio. “Who the hell painted my roses red?!” “It was Deku!” Bakugou’s head snapped up, barking with a vigor. “It’s was all him!” “Midoriya, you say?” “N-no, Your Majesty! It w-was...Denki! Sorry, Denki.” “Huh?” Denki looked up, quirking his head. “But I thought it was Bakugou who said to paint them?” “Enough!” The Red King bit, stomping his foot again. “Off with their heads!” YN paled, looking up with wide eyes. Several knights stepped forward and started dragging the three off, with only Bakugou spitting and kicking the whole way down. YN was left alone in front of this menace, and she felt her blood cool. “And what’s this?” The Red King looked down at YN with a sneer before snapping his fingers. “Knave!” “Y-y-yes, King Monoma.” From behind several knights, a young man scampered out. Instantly, he felt different from the others; he was meek, holding himself close and almost shuffling out of sight. He skittered up to YN and knelt, gently tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes. His own were a stunning shade of indigo, dark and almost black. Tufts of similar hair poked out from under his helmet, framing his face and making him look...well, beautiful. He seemed to be glowing under the eternal afternoon sun, and he blinked softly. “Oh.” He murmured, eyes wide and pleading. “Y-you’re…” “Well?” The Red King huffed, crossing his arms. “Get on with it!” “Sh-she’s a girl, sir! Your Majesty, sir!” The Knave jumped up like he was burned, hands snapping to his side and looking terrified. “A human girl!” “Oh?” The Red King leaned down to YN, raising his eyebrow and smirking. “Well hello, there.” “Hello, uh...your majesty.” “She’s a quick learner!” He grinned, though it felt horribly malicious. “Get up, my dear.” YN got to her feet as quickly and gracefully as possible, making it her one goal to survive. The Cheshire Cat cackled in an echo, and YN felt tempted to spit some insult at him, but knew that it would only land her in trouble. “Follow me, my dear.” The Red King waved his sceptre lackadaisically, beginning to move through the gardens. YN started trotting after him, noting that he seemed like a complete control freak-and that even stepping ahead of him would be dangerous. The Knave caught up with both of them, glancing at YN out of the corner of his eye every couple of seconds. YN glanced back, trying to make sure that her head was on a swivel, before looking ahead when the Red King started talking about something mundane. Meanwhile, Tamaki was having a stroke. He hated his job. He hated being looked at. He hated being told what to do, hated that he was a glorified butler, hated that his best friends were scattered across Wonderland. But this was the first time in...too long that he’d seen another actual human being that wasn’t completely cruel. This young woman seemed sensible, though, and seemed to restrain herself from something stupid. She held herself with a certain grace that Tamaki hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “Knave!” Monoma barked, spinning around. “Stop zoning out, before you lose your head!” “S-s-sorry,” Tamaki whispered, bowing his head and fiddling with his fingers. Monoma lowered his eyes in disdain, but let it go in favour of pointing to the castle. “Give our sweet guest a room, Knave.” Monoma lowered his eyes, and Tamaki realised with a chill that Monoma had crueller intentions. No one was ever allowed into the guest rooms of the castle unless they were going to be executed, or worse-assassinated. Why Monoma wanted to kill this sweet, King-abiding young woman, Tamaki had no clue, but he shook and nodded his head sheepishly. “A-as you wish…” “As I wish…?” “Y-your majesty.” “Good dog,” Monoma smirked again, walking off as Tamaki bit the inside of his cheek. He hated this, hated the Red King, hated Wonderland. And this poor girl was going to be killed because, what, Monoma just didn’t like her? It was a cruel world that Tamaki lived in, and a crueller fate for the young woman. “You’re Tamaki.” Tamaki jumped out of his skin at the woman’s soft tone. Her tense demeanour had melted away, leaving her gently smiling at him. “How…?” “You look like someone I know.” She looked ahead, rocking her hands a bit. “And you remind me of him a lot. Actually, everyone here is very familiar. The Red King, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat...you.” “R-really?” Tamaki felt his heartstrings being pulled almost dramatically, and a flush overtook his face. “Yeah!” The young woman chirped. “Oh...I suppose here, you don’t know my name. I’m YN.” “YN…” Tamaki tested it on his tongue, and he could almost feel it rolling around in his mouth and on his tongue like a delicate sweet. It made warmth surge through him, and something in his gut twitched. It made him feel warm, flooding through him like good memories. He stopped in his tracks, feeling like he was on fire before he gasped. “Huh?” YN stopped and turned around, tilting her head. “Are you okay?” “Y-you…” Every cell in Tamaki’s body screamed out for him not to hurt her. No, she was something far more than just a woman. She was someone that brought him comfort even then, in the Red King’s gardens, where the rest of Wonderland couldn’t even touch them. It was them against the world. “Wait.” Tamaki turned around, making sure that there were no new cards slinking around nearby. YN raised her eyebrow and gave him a curious look, tilting her head. “Is something wrong?” “Come with me.” Tamaki felt a strange surge of confidence through him, holding his hand for YN to take. “If you stay here, you’ll be k-killed.” “What?” YN’s eyes went wide, and she took his hand. He began to run through the maze, knowing every twist and turn like the back of his hand. The evergreen hedges folded into pale bushes, and then into red grass that he missed so dearly. In the distance, he heard Monoma yelling for him, but for once, he didn’t listen. He kept on running, booking it for the edge of the woods until the sky was consumed by trees and the mome raths scattered at the sound of their pounding feet. YN was panting behind him, doing her best to keep up, but he finally skittered to a halt before a great wall. It was the edge of Wonderland, at the very border of the Red King’s land. He turned to YN. “I can get you past here. From there, you can get home safely.” “What’s going on?” YN’s eyes were wide, confused and alert. “We all know you, YN.” Tamaki sighed, feeling an incredible sense of melancholy and nostalgia come over him. “I don’t know how...but we do. And you can’t stay here.” “I…” YN tensed, and Tamaki knew why. She had no reason to trust him. He was just a complete stranger that said he knew her, even though he technically didn’t. There was no reason that she should do anything with him, even if-YN smiled, and Tamaki froze. His heart roared in his ears, and the flush on his cheeks came back tenfold. The world was spinning around her like she was the sun, and Tamaki let out a nervous laugh. Nervous? What was more nervous than nervous? That’s what he was. He was stone in front of this goddess, and he could only shuffle his feet. “Y-you should go before Monoma realises that we’re...yanno…” “Right.” YN nodded, looking over the wall before walking over to it. She pressed her hand to it, and there was a breezy laugh over her shoulder. “Now, now, YN.” The Cheshire Cat started reclining on her shoulder, moving his hands to wrap around her shoulders. “Isn’t it lovely here? I’m sure that the Red King just wanted you to stay the night~” “Shut up, dumb cat.” YN bit, and pressed her hand into the wall. A door appeared out of nowhere, swinging open, and Tamaki sighed. YN turned back to him, giving him a shy smile. “Stay safe, ok?” “I-I will!” Tamaki jumped, his hands snapping to his side. YN lingered through the doorway, like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Tamaki glanced around, unsure what she was waiting for. “I...I don’t think I’d be able to tell you this in real life.” YN looked down, eyes flickering across the dirt. “But I like you. A lot.” Tamaki jumped. “Wh-what?!” “I guess, since this isn’t real…” YN paused. “Right?” “Oh.” Tamaki only felt confused and could barely make two words. “What?” “This is…oh, nevermind.” YN took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders as the Cheshire Cat slinked off. “Goodbye, Tamaki.” She walked through, and Tamaki saw a light.

Tamaki woke up on his desk and had a heart attack.

He jumped up, hoping he didn’t attract too much attention from the rest of his class. Oddly enough, though, only Mirio, Neijre, and YN were in the room. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and Tamaki felt instant mortification. “There he is!” Mirio smiled brightly at him, waving. “Have a good nap?” “Y-you let me sleep!” Tamaki paled, feeling ready to drip out of his seat and onto the floor. YN turned and smiled softly. “You deserve it.” “Yeah! And it sounded like you were having a good dream!” Nejire giggled. “You were smiling and bright red!” “I-I was?! Oh, god!” Tamaki’s hands rushed to his face, slapping his cheeks in hopes of willing the flush down. He felt sick to his stomach; did he say anything in his sleep? Did YN know? Was it weird? “C’mon, Tama.” YN rose and placed a gentle hand on Tamaki’s back. “We should head to our dorms before it gets too late.” Tamaki’s head snapped up as Mirio and Neijre began walking out the door. YN waited next to him, soft eyes on him. He felt like the world was slowed to a stop. YN was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and the gentle way that she looked at him made his heart race. He loved her for the longest time, and no matter what, she always managed to make him into goo.

He supposed his crush was like a rabbit hole, and he was still falling.

#tamaki x reader #wonderland au #fuckin christ this took me forever #bnha x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

A new us will begin (7/ 11)

word count: 9k

AO3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 8

Content warning: being overwhelmed by being in a crowd, (implied character death (kind of?))

Geralt stared at him, his mind simultaneously freezing and racing. He didn’t even realise how long he must have just stood there unmoving, until Dandy shifted uncomfortably.

Geralt shook his head to snap out of his stupor.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rougher than intended. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to scare you before. I- “ His fingers twitched, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. “I’m sure you want to leave this place.”

A look of relief flittered over Dandy’s face and he nodded curtly. “Yeah, that would be for the best.”

He shuffled again, the hand that wasn’t holding the cane fiddling with the hem of his doublet. “I… I know you just saved me now, but could you…”

He trailed off, pressing his lips into a thin line. His discomfort was so blatantly obvious that Geralt instinctively took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him out of habit, even though he now knew how nonsensical that gesture was. It was all he could do to show people that he wasn’t a threat to them. It wouldn’t work on Dandy.

“Of course,” Geralt rasped out. “I won’t force my presence on you. I understand that you’re uncomfortable with me after I just –“

He was interrupted by a sharp huff coming from Dandy. “What? No, that’s not – I asked you to stay, didn’t I?”

“I…yes?”

Dandy’s throat visibly bobbed as he swallowed. “Well, you see, the thing is… gods, I can’t believe how stupid I was that I didn’t notice that something was wrong earlier, but I usually don’t really go places alone if I don’t know my way around.” His hand tightened around his cane and his tone became slightly cynical, when he added, “Fillip – if that even was his real name – told me where he was going to take me, but somehow I doubt that’s actually where we are now.”

“Oh.” Geralt blinked, his brows drawing together like storm clouds. Of course. That must have been why Fillip had taken that long and undoubtedly complicated route to get here instead of taking the direct way – so that Dandy wouldn’t be able to just flee and find his way back. “Do you want me to take you home?” Dandy flinched and Geralt cursed himself. “I mean your home.”

An abyss opened up in Geralt’s chest that widened with every second that Dandy hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said softly. “I would go back to the tavern and tell one of your friends to come get you, but I don’t want you to be alone out here. Just in case –“

“Yeah, no, I really don’t want that either.” Dandy gave a strained laugh.

But he didn’t say he wanted to come with Geralt. Not that Geralt could blame him. He took a shaky breath.

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust me. Especially after what just happened.” Geralt clenched his fists to keep them from trembling with fury and left-over terror again. “But I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. I would rather die than let any harm come to you.”

Dandy’s lips twitched weakly. “That’s quite the declaration for a stranger.”

A stranger. That was all Geralt was, all he was going to be, after the sort of first meeting they had. No one in their right mind would want him to stick around after something like that. It was a wonder Dandy hadn’t already scrambled back to get away from him.

Geralt forced all restrained hurt out of his voice, when he replied, “I had a friend who loved dramatic speeches. He always told me to speak more.”

Dandy let out a surprised laugh. “He sounds like a smart man. You do have a lovely voice. It would be a shame not to use it.”

Geralt’s throat went dry. “He was. A smart man. And the biggest idiot I knew.”

“Oh.” The tension that had slowly ebbed away from Dandy, returned in full force. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Well, I guess he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let himself get lured away by some charming man, huh?”

It was clear that Dandy was aiming for a joke, but judging from the strain in his voice, he was well aware that he missed by a mile.

Geralt softened. “Yes, actually, he would. You wouldn’t believe how often he got in trouble because of a pretty face – sometimes his own, sometimes other people’s.” His voice took on a more serious note. “But not a single time that he was attacked for it, was his fault. Just as what happened today wasn’t yours. The men who attacked you are to blame and no one else. You’re not stupid for trusting people and if anyone tells you that it’s your own fault if someone tries to take advantage of you, you tell them that they are dead wrong.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated, but then he gave Geralt a crooked smile. “I really have no idea what those men were talking about when they called you a monster. If you ask me, you sound more like a hero. Act like one too.”

Geralt’s heart sped up at those all too familiar words. After years and years of being spat at, being insulted and chased away, hearing words so similar to those Jaskier had always told him, was like rubbing a soothing balm on a wound.

“I’m no hero. Just tried to do the right thing.” He shifted on his feet. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to do the right thing again and bring you home safely. Judging from your clothes, you must be living in the richer part of town?”

Dandy let out a startled laugh. “No. Absolutely not. But I’ll tell Clarisse that you said the costumes she makes look expensive. But I probably should stop wearing them after rehearsals, huh?”

Geralt’s brows shot up. “So you weren’t lying? You really are an actor?”

Dandy’s grin got wider. “I would be offended that you haven’t heard of our troupe, but since you so gallantly saved me, I shall forgive you for now.” He hesitated, his plastered on confidence wavering a little. “But I would appreciate if you could bring me back to the tavern? I just…I’d really like to be with my friends again.”

Geralt led him back without further delay. He didn’t take Dandy’s arm as Fillip had done before, but he made sure to made his footfalls louder and to keep talking so that Dandy would now always know where he was and how to follow him, while his cane moved before him, sometimes catching on irregular cobblestones or the walls of houses.

As they walked, Dandy visibly relaxed, even reciting his big monologue of the play they were going to perform the next day, when Geralt asked about it, more to distract Dandy from any dark thoughts than anything else. He tried his best to follow Dandy as he told him about what it was like being an actor, but most of it was nothing Geralt could find a meaningful reply to.

Dandy didn’t appear bothered by that. In fact, by the time they were close enough that even Dandy could hear the noise coming from the tavern, he looked almost as happy as he had back with his friends.

Despite the terror that had brought them here, Geralt wished he could stay in that moment forever; just the two of them walking together, talking and him being allowed to watch Dandy brighten when Geralt managed to say something the actor deemed funny.

He wished he could stay with him, wished that when they entered the tavern and his friends hugged Dandy close, Geralt could be one of them. But as the red-haired woman from before took Dandy in her arms, the actor began trembling again, a piercing reminder of what had happened. He had been apprehensive of asking Geralt to walk him back, there was no doubt in Geralt’s mind that now that he was surrounded by his friends again, Dandy would want Geralt as far gone as possible.

So Geralt explained what had happened to the redhead, Nadine, as quickly as he could and left Dandy in his friends’ care, without forcing him to say another word to him. Part of it was the selfless need to see Dandy throw off that discomfort from before. The bigger, selfish part of Geralt knew he would break, if he had to listen to Dandy say goodbye to him, final and cutting like a knife.

Still, Geralt didn’t go back to Roach again as he had planned, neither did he search for a cheap inn. He lingered in the shadows near the tavern, making sure no more danger would come near Dandy.

Shortly after Geralt had left the tavern, Dandy and his friends followed, going back to their home, where no harm could to him.

It should have calmed Geralt to know that Dandy was in caring hands and yet he couldn’t banish the worry and the memory of that short terrifying moment when he had thought he might be too late again.

This night, Geralt didn’t get a wink of sleep, patrolling the streets and thinking of how, no matter how briefly, Dandy had seemed to be happy to be in his presence. It was a memory Geralt would treasure when he was out on the Path again, lonely, but comforted by the knowledge that Dandy wasn’t just as alone.

Geralt told himself he would stay away, that it would be better for Dandy that way. He had everything he could want. There was no need for a witcher to come in and mess his life up.

And yet, the next evening, Geralt found himself staring at one of the numerous posters he found in the city, impossible to miss, now that he was looking for them. Colourful letters and a quickly drawn picture advertised a play. Right front and centre of the rough drawing was a man in a hat, leaning on a cane and giving a roguish smile, teasing Geralt and tempting him to throw caution and reason in the wind and come see him again.

He should resist. No good would come off going to see Dandy again, but Geralt’s feet carried him to the spacious marketplace, as written on the poster, even while his mind told him that he would find nothing but disappointment and hurt if he saw Dandy again.

In his hand, he clutched the hat Dandy had lost in that alley, when he had been hit. Geralt had gone back there, just to see if his attackers were around, and his heart had stuttered when he’d seen the hat lying there on the ground, dirtied and discarded. Without thinking, he had bent down to take it. If nothing else, he should return it to the players. It didn’t even need to be to Dandy directly. He could just go to the woman sitting behind a small desk at the entrance of the marketplace, hand it to her and disappear again.

But he needed to see. He needed to know for sure that Dandy was feeling better. That was the only reason why he went to the woman selling tickets for the play and pulled out one of the precious few coins in his possession.

His stomach nearly growled at the thought alone of how little coin he had left. Watching a play wasn’t an expense he could afford, not if he wanted to be able to eat anything warm and nutritious.

His fist closed around the silver coin and with determined steps, he walked towards the woman.

“One ticket, please.”

The woman looked up at him with a welcoming smile. A smile, that froze on her face when she took him in. Her eyes widened and he could hear her sharp intake of breath.

His jaw clenched. Out of instinct, he hunched his shoulders and tried his best to relax his face, but he was painfully aware of the fact that he couldn’t hide who and what he was. Decades without Jaskier’s songs to soften the public’s opinion hadn’t done the way he was treated and perceived much good.

Pointedly casually, Geralt held out the coin.

He told himself that he didn’t panic when the woman shook her head.

“We won’t take your coin.”

His heart sank. He should go. He should just give her the hat, excuse himself and go. The last thing he needed was to cause a scene.

“It’s as good a coin as anyone else’s.”

He cursed himself even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had known that there was a very real chance that he wouldn’t get to see Dandy again, but being told that he should go when he was so close, was like a punch in the gut.

He could feel more than he saw the people behind him in the line growing impatient, some even starting to whisper to each other in irritation. It wasn’t hard to guess whose side they would be on if Geralt kept insisting to be allowed to pass.

The last thing Dandy needed was Geralt chasing away other audience members with his presence.

An icy chill ran down his spine. Dandy. What if he had asked the rest of his friends to keep him away because he didn’t want Geralt anywhere near him? Yesterday, Geralt had been able to make himself believe that Dandy looking happy around him had been real. Now, he was forced to confront the truth: That the actor had just been relieved that nothing worse had happened and if he had smiled at what Geralt had said, that had likely just happened out of a sense of obligation or fear of what would happen if he pissed Geralt off.

Geralt wouldn’t blame Dandy if he had wanted to make sure that Geralt stayed away from him.

A taken aback “Oh” from the woman in front of him interrupted his grim thoughts. “That’s not what I meant. Of course your coin is just as good. I meant that you don’t have to pay to watch our play.”

Geralt’s brows shot up. He couldn’t have heard this right. “What do you mean?”

The woman tilted her head to the side and eyed him critically, before nodding to herself and leaning closer.

“You’re the one who helped our Dandy yesterday, aren’t you? Nadine told me what happened and said if a man with white hair and…well, she pretty much described you and said if you came by, I shouldn’t make you pay.”

“He’s alright then?” The idea of a witcher being allowed entrance anywhere without pay felt surreal, but the only thing Geralt’s mind latched on was that brief mention of the person he wanted more than anything to be close to again. “Dandy?”

“He’s fine. Thanks to you.” The woman’s lips twitched and she gave Geralt a conspiratorial look, as if he’d have any idea what she wanted to tell him with that. “A bit nervous, though. More so than the usual nerves before a performance. He’s been fidgety all day.”

Geralt’s face fell. “He’s still afraid? Did anyone bother him again?” Is it me he’s afraid of?

The woman waved her hand through the air dismissively. “Oh no. He keeps telling everyone who’s willing to listen, how he has a mysterious protector now.” She winked at Geralt. “But you can ask him about it after the play yourself. Now, not to be rude, but you’re kind of holding up the line.”

Geralt startled. He had almost forgotten about the people waiting impatiently behind him. With one last grateful nod to the woman, he went past her and joined the crowd that was already gathered on the marketplace.

Geralt’s nerves spiked up and his breath started to come short. There were too many people around him. He pushed his way to the back of the crowd, but even there, he was surrounded by chattering, pushing and the smell of sweat that clung to the mass of bodies.

Geralt had avoided crowds for so long that he had almost forgotten how much he hated it. The only thing that had always soothed his mind and had made being in a crowd worth it, had been Jaskier’s hand in his, grounding him, and the smile he would always give him for indulging Jaskier like that.

Only now, he didn’t have Jaskier with him.

Geralt was left to grow more and more anxious, as he tried to focus all of his senses on finding Dandy, but he couldn’t catch so much as a glimpse of him, even as he stared at the colourful wagon that had been converted into a place where actors could hide until they had to make their entrance onto the stage.

Finally, the play began. Geralt perked up, only to sag in disappointment, when it wasn’t Dandy presenting the prologue, but the red-haired woman from the day before. She was good, as were the other actors that soon joined her, but Geralt paid only half-attention to them or the plot, too distracted by trying to spy Dandy somewhere.

He shouldn’t have worried about missing him. As soon as the doors to the wagon opened and Dandy pushed the curtain separating it from the stage to the side with a dramatic flourish, he drew all eyes onto himself.

Geralt couldn’t help but suck in the air sharply, when Dandy strode over the stage, all confidence and cockiness. He navigated the stage perfectly, his cane almost melting into his motions with how self-assured he presented himself. It was clear that he knew his place as well as the other actor’s places like the back of his hand. Nothing was left of the scared man from yesterday, who had been lost and reliant on others to guide him through the labyrinth that was the city. No, the person who was on stage now, was someone completely different. This was who Dandy was meant to be. He commanded the stage, wrapped the audience around his little finger as if it was nothing.

Some of his expressions still looked a little unnatural and he didn’t always look at where the other actor’s eyes were perfectly, but somehow Dandy managed to turn that into a look of arrogance or shy avoidance. It was clear how much he had practiced to perfect this performance and how much he loved playing the cocky pirate captain.

While Jaskier had been able to get any crowd to clap and stomp in rhythm with his songs, Dandy had the gift of making a hush fall over the crowd. Not a single person in the audience dared to risk missing even a second of his performance by talking. Geralt fared no better. He couldn’t have looked away if he had wanted to. He was mesmerised.

And how could he not be? Up there on the stage, Dandy was beautiful, confident and so breathtakingly and unapologetically happy.

A warm and fuzzy feeling spread through Geralt’s chest as he watched, though he winced and felt a spike of guilt shoot up, when he noticed that Dandy did his best to take it easy on his back when he danced through the fight-choreographies or had to bend down.

But even so, there was no doubt that Dandy gave it his all. Even with the hat missing from his costume, he melted into the role of the pirate. So much so that even Geralt found himself invested in the play, and not only for the need to see what exactly it was that Dandy did that he loved so much.

And he could see why he did. The story was enrapturing. A pirate playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, with constantly changing roles and stakes. He evaded the knight searching for him time and time again, more often than not with a flirty quip on his lips and a wink for the knight before the pirate escaped just in time.

Dandy played the pirate pouring all his heart into it. And with it, he played the audience as easily as a child’s recorder.

When Dandy acted ruthless and lifted his voice to a furious shout, gasps went through the audience. When Dandy spoke softly to the knight in a rare moment of vulnerability, Geralt noticed more than one pair of lovers search for their partner’s hand or share a look. When Dandy tilted the knights chin up with the sword he held in the hand that wasn’t occupied with his holding his cane, Geralt felt an unexpected tingling down the back of his neck and he had to swallow to get himself to stop imagining himself in the knight’s place.

But then the scene shifted and Geralt felt as if a rug was pulled out from under him. The pirate got captured by the knight and thrown into a prison. The set design was only minimalistic and had Geralt been less invested, he might have scoffed at how nothing like an actual prison the stage looked, not without the cagey walls that made you think you were suffocating or the lack of light that made it impossible to tell what time of day it was.

But none of that mattered. Because there Dandy was, cowering on the stage all alone, shackled and trembling all over. In that moment, he looked so damn similar to how he had been yesterday, that it took all of Geralt’s will power to remind himself that Dandy was just acting, that his pain-streaked face was nothing but the mask of the character he played. And yet, Geralt’s heart broke for him and he wanted nothing more than to take Dandy into his arms and hold him close until his tears dried and his gasping breath turned into laughter.

Then the knight appeared on the other side of the prop door, speaking to the pirate through it in a stern and rough voice, but the look on Dandy’s face as the pirate heard the voice and realised he wasn’t alone, made it seem as if the voice was the most beautiful and most comforting thing he had ever heard.

The knight lifted a prop torch. It didn’t shine a real light, but Dandy turned towards it nonetheless, creating the illusion of being gifted with unexpected light in a hopelessly dark place.

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the look of utter bliss and hope on Dandy’s face.

Was this how Yarrow had looked when Geralt had finally given up on remaining silent? Had he looked just as hopeless and broken as Dandy had before, when Geralt had fallen silent again?

And then Dandy spoke up again and Geralt found it impossible to breathe. He knew that monologue. It was the same one Dandy had presented in the most dramatic fashion to Geralt the day before.

It was different today. This was no grandiose speech. It was a desperate plea of a broken man. Dandy knew exactly how to use his voice to pierce the hearts of the audience. People sobbed and held their loved ones’ closer as Dandy spoke now. But Geralt was certain that none of them felt as much in that moment as he did. Not a single person could understand the turmoil of emotion welling up in him at Dandy’s words.

He hadn’t understood yesterday, but now, seeing Dandy in that make-believe cell, it shifted everything, made Geralt feel like he was right next to him, on the other side of a wall, too far away to touch, too stubborn to listen to his pleas.

Because that’s what it was. While yesterday Dandy had made it seem as if his words were playful and tempting, there was now no doubt that he was begging. Begging for the knight to stay with him, to leave his life of glory and righteousness behind and join him on the sea, far away from anyone who put them in shackles or told them that they had to be enemies. He begged for the knight to see him as more than the unwanted criminal that the law painted him as. There was a broken smile on his face, as he said that he knew well enough that there were no dragons to fight out on the sea, but there were leviathans and all kinds of other sea monsters that he needed help fighting. He could use a man who knew how to use his sword. More than that, he could use a friend.

And the knight…the knight remained silent. Geralt felt himself leaning closer to the stage, tense as if readying himself for a fight and terrified of what the answer might be.

Don’t do it! he almost screamed at the actor playing the knight. You will shatter him if you say it!

But he knew what the answer would be, had known it long before the pirate had ever started begging. He had known it, ever since he realised just how close this scene was to the moment he still regretted decades later.

“We’re not friends.”

The knight left and took the light with him, leaving the pirate alone in his cell, awaiting the law’s judgement that he knew wouldn’t let him out of that cell alive. The pirate’s last words, before the knight watched him climb the gallows was, “We could have been friends. In a different life.”

Geralt didn’t hear the roaring applause. He didn’t see the actors all coming together onstage to take their bows. It felt as if his head had been stuffed with cotton, muffling the world around him.

All he could think of were those last lines. In a different life.

Did Dandy know? Did he somehow understand who he was and was trying to get a message to Geralt? It wasn’t likely, but the possibility made his heart speed up and sent a tingle of anticipation down his back.

Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Geralt didn’t even notice that he was among the last few who lingered awkwardly while the rest of the audience was already making their way home, until that laughter he had heard the day before reached his ears again. Somewhere backstage, Dandy was joking with his friends again.

Geralt’s throat went dry. He didn’t know what to do. That happened frustratingly often lately. He knew what he wanted to do, what every fibre of his being screamed at him to do. But there was no guarantee Dandy even wanted to meet him again. The chance of him truly knowing who he was to Geralt was too small to sway Geralt’s mind. Who was to say Dandy would want him here if he knew, anyway? Because if Dandy knew, then what exactly would he remember? Dying in Geralt’s arms. Dying alone and sick and waiting for a man who would never come.

And if he didn’t remember? If the play had been pure coincidence? Then Dandy would only know him as a brute who lurked in dark alleys, a man who reminded him of the violence of the day before, and who had shown that he wasn’t above hurting people. He had made Dandy fear for his life while he had had no idea if Geralt was friend or foe. None of that made Geralt appear in any way trustworthy.

Whether Dandy remembered anything of his past lives or not, he had every reason to despise him.

But Geralt actually had a reason to talk to him. If not to spent more time with him, then at least to return the hat to him. It was a weak excuse and he knew it, but the woman at the entrance had implied that he should go see Dandy and she wouldn’t have said that if she believed it could harm Dandy in any way, would she?

Though his heart was pounding against his ribs in time with his mind telling him repeatedly that this was a bad idea, Geralt walked towards the stage, where Nadine was just putting away some props.

Before Geralt could speak up, she lifted her head. A brow rose, not in surprise, but almost looking pleased.

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” she said, not bothering to interrupt her work while she spoke. “I take it you’re looking for Dandy?”

“Unless he doesn’t wish to meet me.” Geralt rubbed his thumb over the nail of his index finger, as big a show of nervousness as he allowed himself. “I don’t want to bother him.”

Nadine faltered and turned to face Geralt fully. Geralt felt oddly vulnerable under her scrutiny. But whatever she was seeing must have satisfied her, for she gave him a small nod of approval.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be. He’s not helping clean up the stage anyway and as long as he’s busy talking - or doing whatever else takes both your fancy - with you, at least he won’t be able to bother the rest of us.” Despite her harsh sounding words, her tone was warm and fond. It did something strange to Geralt’s chest to know that Dandy had found himself with friends whom he was comfortable enough with to let them tease him. “He’s behind the stage, you can’t miss him.”

Geralt nodded his thanks, but before he could make his way to Dandy, Nadine called after him again, “Don’t touch anything. The props are fragile.” When she caught Geralt’s eye, she added quieter but in a practiced tone of authority and intimidation, “I mean it. Don’t break anything.”

They both knew she wasn’t talking about props. Geralt returned her serious look and inclined his head. This time, when he continued on his way, he wasn’t stopped.

Nadine was right. It was impossible to miss Dandy. He was lounging comfortably on a box while another actor with shoulder-length dark hair tried to shoo him off so they could stow away his props.

The other actor looked up when Geralt came closer, their eyes going wide and darting between Geralt and Dandy.

“Oh,” they said awkwardly. “I, uh, I guess I can put my stuff away later. I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, they hurried away. Dandy let out a cheerful laugh and swung his legs back and forth, making dull thuds whenever his feel hit the box.

He didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t alone.

“Dandy?”

Dandy startled and his one hand tightened around his cane. “Uh, who are you?”

Geralt clenched his jaw. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I forgot – I’m Geralt.”

Dandy stared blankly ahead, the fingers of his free hand drumming a nervous pattern on the box.

“Ah, pleasure to meet you.” A pause. Dandy tilted his head. “Judging from how Mika left, you’re either very intimidating or someone I should probably know.”

Geralt coughed uncomfortably. “To be honest, I’m not sure which one it is either.”

Dandy let out a quiet laugh and leaned back. “So mysterious. You want me to guess? Because I’m warning you, I’m not very good at guessing games.”

“We met yesterday. After…I’m the one who brought you back to the tavern.”

The change in Dandy was instantaneous. As quick as lightning, he jumped up, his teasing and the hint of weariness gone and replaced with a buzzing excitement.

“It’s you! I can’t believe you’re here!” The smile on his face wasn’t as big as Jaskier’s would have been, but the happiness in his voice was brighter than anything Geralt had ever heard before. “Really, I should have guessed it was you. No one else can move that silently.” He huffed. “You’ll have to work on that, if you don’t want me to startle every time you appear.”

Something warm tingled to life in Geralt. Every time. It couldn’t just be Geralt’s foolishly hopeful heart that made those words sound as if Dandy wanted him to come see him again after this, could it?

“Or when you disappear for that matter.” Dandy’s tone shifted into gentle reprimand and he wagged a finger vaguely in Geralt’s direction. “You were gone so quickly yesterday and without saying goodbye too.”

“I’m sorry.” Those words weren’t enough. They didn’t say that Geralt had wanted nothing more than to stay with Dandy, to get to know him, to have Dandy want him there with him. But it was all that his tied tongue allowed him to get out.

Dandy snorted. “You should be.” Amusement snuck into his voice. “I’ll have you know that it was really embarrassing when I stared talking to you, thanking you profusely for saving me, only to have Nadine tell me that you had left an eternity ago. I fear my dignity shall never recover!”

“Not if you keep being that dramatic,” Geralt shot back, before he could stop himself.

He froze, his eyes going wide as he held his breath, awaiting Dandy’s reaction. His slip up that Jaskier would have recognised without difficulty as teasing, must sound like a deadpan insult to anyone else – to Dandy.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said so quickly he nearly stumbled over the word. “I didn’t mean to-“

He was interrupted by a barking laugh coming from Dandy. “Not you too! First my own friends and colleagues tell me I’m too dramatic – can you believe it? Actors telling me I’m too dramatic! – and now even you, Geralt, my hero, are turning against me?”

Geralt shifted his weight, his instinct telling him to deny being a hero, but the way Dandy had said his name made him swallow his words of protest. Instead, he cleared his throat and aimed for something softer with his next words.

“I could make it up to you?”

Dandy’s smile turned into a grin. “Oh? How are you planning to do that? One daring rescue wasn’t enough for you?” His tone became sincere. “Because trust me, I couldn’t ask anything more of you. I owe you my life.”

“No. Trust me, you really don’t.” Geralt forced down the bitterness lacing his words. “No more heroics. But-“ he faltered, looking at the hat in his hand. Standing before Dandy now, made this gesture seem so much more insignificant. “I found your hat. I wanted to return it to you.”

Dandy let out a delighted little noise. “Wait, really?”

“It’s…yeah. I got your hat.”

Geralt waited until Dandy held out his hand to place it in it. Immediately, Dandy went to put it on his head. Geralt snatched his elbow, stopping him. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks when Dandy made a questioning noise.

“Sorry, it’s just. It’s dirty. And the feather is broken. I tried to clean it best I could, but I don’t think you’d want to put it on like that.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated, but then he tugged his arm free and proceeded to put the hat on.

“I couldn’t possibly scorn such a gift,” he said teasingly, but something else was woven into his voice. Something more. “Now, how do I look?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he could speak. The word he croaked was more a strangled noise than the compliment he had intended to give, but it made Dandy’s lips twitch nonetheless.

“First you give me my hat back and now you give me such a lovely and eloquent compliment? Your generosity knows no bounds.” Coming from anyone else, those words would have sounded like a mockery and would have stung Geralt to the core. But from Dandy, they sounded so much like familiar teasing, as if they had known each other forever, that Geralt relaxed. “I wonder…may I be greedy and ask for one more thing?”

Anything.

“Depends,” Geralt said instead, though he was sure Dandy could hear his real answer in the miniscule tremble of his voice. “What are you asking for?”

Dandy’s smile grew wider. “The thing all artists are asking for. A review.”

“Let me guess, in three words or less?”

The words slipped past Geralt’s lips without thinking, but now that they hung between them, his heart sped up and his eyes zeroed in on Dandy, doing their best to see even the most miniscule shift in his expression that showed that he recognised those words, that they meant something to him.

All Dandy did was lift his brows and twirl his cane a little. Geralt told himself he wasn’t disappointed.

“I wouldn’t complain about more words. But three words does sound like something out of a story, so I’ll take it.”

The corner of Geralt’s lips tugged upwards. “They don’t exist.”

For a moment, Dandy was quiet, then he let out an indignant and altogether dramatic groan. “Really? That’s your review? That’s not – how is that even a review?”

Geralt couldn’t stop the soft fondness from welling up in his chest, as he listened to Dandy’s tirade. “I mean, is that a good thing? Do you think it’s terrible? You truly gave me the one review that is just utterly nondescript.”

Geralt hummed with a smile on his lips that he was sure Dandy could hear. “Do you think inaccuracy is a bad thing?”

Dandy scoffed. “Of course not. I’m not writing a history book, am I?”

“Thankfully not. You’d be terrible at that.”

“Are you implying that I’m good at writing plays then?”

Geralt let out a soft huff. “I didn’t say that.”

Dandy shook his head with a grin that was a bit wonky, but that got its point across all the same. This was the most shit eating expression there was.

“No, you can’t take that back. You definitely implied it.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, just for the sake of doing so. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Don’t need to. I played my fair share of shy young lovers. I know what someone sounds like who desperately tries not to sound like they just gave a compliment.”

Geralt grunted. It was strange imagining Dandy playing a shy character who was careful with their words. Then again, Geralt would have given his right hand to have seen that, if only to know what Dandy looked like when he was in love, even if it was only an act.

“I’ll take your silence as defeat. Which I shall graciously accept,” Dandy said and gave an exaggerated bow. “Now, back to ‘they don’t exist’. Because, you know, that’s not a new epiphany. Those characters and scenarios? They aren’t real. Everyone knows that. And that’s the whole point.” Dandy’s voice got louder with excitement and he stood up a little straighter. His fingers twitched, but they didn’t move otherwise. He probably wanted to use wild gestures as he had on stage, but wasn’t sure he wouldn’t accidentally knock something or someone over, now that nothing had its marks and places like it did during the play.

“You see,” Dandy said and leaned forward a little, “the point is they could exist. They start out as a vague spark of inspiration in the writer’s head and then, for just two hours, the theatre makes them real in the hearts of the audience. If we’ve done our job well, it’s going to stay real for a little while after the performance too. But it’s all about what could be and not what really is.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together as he listened to the explanation. It was clear that this was something Dandy had thought about oftentimes before. Listening to him felt like listening to Jaskier explain metre and the importance of key changes. Geralt didn’t understand a word of what he was saying and he wouldn’t be able to give a satisfying reply, but he loved seeing him get so swept up in his excitement nonetheless. Geralt loved it, for the sole reason that he got to see Dandy happy.

Still, Geralt was wrecking his mind for some reply, some way to not let this conversation die down. He clung to the thing that had always gotten Jaskier to light up.

“So, I take it you wouldn’t want me to tell you some real stories of adventures and monsters?”

Dandy’s brows shot up. “Do you have a lot of stories then? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the storytelling type – oh.” That last word was spoken so softly, so apologetically that something twisted in Geralt’s gut. Dandy’s hand reached out, searching, until it finally found Geralt’s arm. It wandered down until he gently held Geralt’s hand. “Do you know those stories from your friend? The dramatic one, you told me about?”

Geralt’s skin burned where they touched, searing him like a brand. He wanted to never let go.

“From him too. He certainly would have been better at telling them than me. Though less accurate.”

“Then how would you tell those stories? If they are yours to tell.”

“I- what?” An inexplicable sense of unease crept up Geralt’s spine. Something was wrong, though he couldn’t put his fingers on it.

“How do you know of monsters and adventures?”

Geralt’s blood turned to ice. “You don’t know,” he whispered as his eyes widened with the sudden cold realisation.

Dandy titled his head. He looked so trusting, so unassuming. He had trusted the wrong people at least once before.

“What do I not know?”

Geralt pulled his hand back, regretting it almost instantly, but he couldn’t let Dandy feel his hand starting to shake. Dandy’s brows pinched together and he drew back a little.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dandy sounded so painfully concerned and unsure. Of course he would be. He couldn’t know that the eyes looking at him where inhuman, that Geralt wore his scars like Dandy did his costumes and that the hand Dandy had held so gently was the hand of a mutant. “Geralt, are you alri-“

“I’m a witcher.” The words were curt and toneless. He had gone through this so often before – twice with Jaskier and Yarrow – but it never got any easier. The icy fear tearing its claws into his heart never showed mercy.

“A witcher?” Dandy sounded breathless. Then he narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger. “You’re not messing with me, are you? Because if you are, this really isn’t funny.”

“It’s not,” Geralt agreed. “Believe me, I know there’s nothing funny about this.”

Dandy’s face became unreadable. “Geralt…of Rivia?”

Geralt made an affirmative humming sound. He couldn’t bring himself to form words again.

Dandy let out a short laugh and rubbed his free hand over his face. “I can’t believe it. All my life, I don’t meet a single witcher and now… here were are.” His lips twitched into a smile, before a frown overtook his features again.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt finally said through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t have come. I should have told you earlier.”

“No! I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s just. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect you...to be you. My tutor told me about you - all those ancient stories about the White Wolf- but I never thought I’d actually get to meet you.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I need to think about this some more.”

Geralt’s heart sank. He had dealt with too many nobles not to recognise a dismissal if he heard one. Dandy had nothing to think about and even if he did, there was no doubt what his conclusion would be. Geralt wouldn’t get to see Dandy again.

“I understand.” Lips pressed into a thin line that barely resembled a smile, Geralt turned. “Goodbye, Dandy.”

“Wait!” Dandy called out. “You promised me stories. You will come back tomorrow to tell me some, won’t you?”

He sounded so hopeful that Geralt froze.

Dandy’s cane slid over the floor as the actor took some steps towards him. “And I know my performance today was good, but you should see me act while I’m wearing the full costume.” He gestured to the hat. He moved quicker than before, his voice almost desperate. “You’ll come back? You…Geralt? Are you even still there?”

Geralt stifled a curse. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I’m here. Forgot to move louder.” He swallowed. “Are you sure you want me to come back? I won’t hurt you if you don’t -”

“I am.” The reply came to fast, it nearly cut Geralt off.

“Then I’ll will.” Speaking the words out loud, giving this promise, lifted a weight off his chest. He huffed, as he picked up Dandy’s flimsy excuse. “I wouldn’t want to miss your best performance.”

He took another couple of steps away, this time making sure they would be audible, before he stopped again, half turning back to Dandy and said, “I would have wanted them to become friends. The pirate and the knight.”

Dandy smiled weaky at the floor. “Yeah, me too.”

“You wrote the play, didn’t you? Why didn’t you give them a happy ending?”

Dandy shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to. But it didn’t feel right.”

“I didn’t know the play would be a tragedy.”

Dandy tightened his grip on the cane. “Would you not have watched it if you had known?”

Geralt was quiet for a long time, taking in every part of Dandy. His hair that was so much longer than Jaskier’s had ever been. His clothes that were more expensive than Yarrow’s had likely been. His eyes that were the same blue as the eyes of the man he had loved and lost.

“Yes, I would have.” He hesitated. “But I would have still hoped they would get the ending they deserved.”

Dandy’s posture relaxed. “Maybe I’ll convince Nadine to let me write a sequel one day. And then they get to be friends.”

“I’d like that,” Geralt said hoarsely. “I’d really like that.”

“You came back,” Dandy said, dropping the prop dagger with the retractable blade that he’d ben twirling.

“I promised I would.”

“Even though you knew how the play would end?”

“Even so.” It was foolish, but Geralt hoped Dandy somehow knew he was smiling at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “I still like the middle bits. They make it all worth it.”

The posters announced the theatre troupe would stay in town for at least another four weeks, before they were to continue their travels and bring their plays to the next city that would have them.

Geralt would know; he’d spent longer than he would like to admit, studying the posters. In a moment of weakness, he had taken one down, folded it and hid it in Yarrow’s sketchbook. The picture of Dandy on the poster wasn’t very detailed, but it was still him and Geralt felt better falling asleep at night, knowing that he had at least this small part of him with him.

The troupe only had a limited repertoire of plays and Geralt had watched them all, multiple times even. He came to every performance, took every chance he could get to see Dandy again.

Whereas he had felt like an intruder at first, it now almost felt like coming home when he went backstage after a performance as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

If anyone had asked him why he kept coming back, he would have said, because he was the only one who would be able to recognise all of Dandy’s attackers, so Dandy would be safer with him around.

Nobody asked. No one even seemed to question for a second why he kept returning. As days turned into a week, the other actors and stagehands waved or nodded at Geralt when they saw him, pointing him in Dandy’s direction without him having to ask first. With time, Geralt even learned that Mika very much wasn’t intimidated by him, as he had thought at first, when he caught Mika teasing Dandy that his admirer had come back and then had the gull to wink at Geralt as Mika left them alone.

When he wasn’t watching the plays or talking with Dandy, Geralt was looking for contracts. It was practically impossible for a witcher to find enough work in one place to earn him the coin to last four weeks there, but he did his best, taking any job he could get. It was worth it, if it meant he’d get to see Dandy again.

Still, he must not have been very good at hiding how little he ate or how much sleep he lacked for wont of well-paying work, for they refused to let him pay to watch the plays, no matter how often he came by.

Dandy scooted to the side on the box, leaving space for Geralt to sit down next to him. Mika threw them an unimpressed look, when they were once again forced to take care of their props later, but their expression shifted into something amused and knowing, that made heat rise in Geralt’s cheeks, that he prayed wouldn’t be shown in a treacherous blush.

If it did, at least Dandy wouldn’t know to tease him about it. Not that he needed to. Judging from the small smirk on his face when their thighs pressed together for lack of space, he knew very well what his proximity was doing to Geralt.

Yet, he didn’t voice any of his thoughts out loud, leaving Geralt to wonder just how much he knew, how much he wanted, how much he was willing to accept from Geralt.

So for now, Geralt gave the one thing he knew Dandy would appreciate. Stories.

He tried sticking to the ones Jaskier had written that he still knew by heart, repeating the dramatic lines that were sown into his mind. Dandy would hang on his lips, no matter what adventure he spoke off, but oddly enough, he appeared to prefer it when Geralt spoke of newer contracts told in Geralt’s boring to-the-point manner.

Dandy would lean against him when he told him of blissfully uneventful days, lay his free hand soothingly onto Geralt’s arm when he spoke of failed contracts and clutched his hand tightly in his when Geralt told him about the scars he had gotten.

The warm feeling in his chest grew with every minute he spent with Dandy and with every story the actor told him of his own travels in return. Of the cities the troupe had been to, the courts and beggars they had performed for and how the play about the pirate had actually been the first play Dandy had ever written – at least partially. The most work had still been done by Nadine, who turned out to be the head of the company, though Dandy stage-whispered to Geralt that she was more like a mother to the rest of the troupe.

Geralt loved those moments where it felt as if it was just the two of them, the only other people around, the actors that Dandy trusted and that welcomed Geralt almost as a friend.

He loved it – and he hated it.

Befriending Dandy again, without telling him the truth about what he used to be to Geralt felt like lying. More than once, he almost told him the truth.

But what was he even supposed to say? If he told Dandy that he was the reincarnation of someone Geralt had loved, he would think Geralt mad at best. At the worst, he would be plunged into dread and a crisis of self, leading to his hatred for himself and Geralt.

He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk Dandy losing himself and the life that he loved.

Strangely, Geralt found that the thought of Dandy not remembering his past lives no longer hurt as id had before. Geralt still missed Jaskier and always would, but as he got closer to Dandy, he realised that it was no longer just the bard that Dandy used to be that was important to Geralt, but Dandy himself.

He was the same as Jaskier in some ways, but also different in others. Geralt wanted to find out all the ways in which Dandy was someone else. He wanted to truly know him, as the person he was now. As the friend, Geralt already saw in him, independent of who he had been in his past life.

So Geralt’s mind was constantly racing, trying to find something that would make him indispensable for the actor, something he could give to him - more than just stories - that would make him want to keep Geralt around for as long as he could.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to do anything of the sort. Dandy was more than happy to do everything he could, to make Geralt want to stay.

The first time Dandy invited Geralt to go for drinks with the rest of the troupe after a show, Geralt was both exhilarated and hesitant to accept the offer.

He knew, as soon as Dandy had asked, that he would be helpless and agree to come with him, but even as they were drinking round after round, Geralt’s mind wouldn’t stop going back to the fact that with every coin he spent so carelessly now, he would have to spend another night sleeping outside the city again and go back to hunting for his own food – if there even were enough animals reckless enough to come close to the city to let themselves be caught by him.

It would be hard, but Dandy leaning into him and putting his arm around him, blabbering happily at him in his adorable drunken state, made it all worth it.

When they parted in the early morning hours, Nadine pulled Geralt to the side. In no uncertain terms, she told him that since he was already spending all of his evenings around the stage, he could just as well help them around it. A pair of strong, helping hands was always appreciated and if Geralt was already there, Dandy wouldn’t annoy the rest of the troupe by senselessly worrying if Geralt would show up again. Of course, Nadine would pay him just the same as she would any other part-time stagehand.

Geralt was sure that it was just the alcohol talking, still he came by the stage earlier that evening and when he did, Nadine was greeting him with an appreciative nod and wasted no time ordering him around.

It was almost too good to be true. Like this, Geralt could afford to keep renting the cheap inn room, he had feared he would lose, and got to see Dandy more than he would have otherwise.

The only downside was that now Geralt didn’t get to sit on the box with him anymore while they talked, but experienced first-hand the annoyance of having Dandy laugh at him while preventing him from doing his work.

Geralt wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.

For the first time in far too long, Geralt felt like he was well and truly happy.

If he dreamed hard enough, he could almost make himself believe that life would stay like this.

#reincarnation au #sorry i forgot to post this on here #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #jaskier #witcher #fic #fanfic #witcher fic #my writing #geralt

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years

Text

MOMMY!!! I HATE IT HERE!!!😭😭😭

Can't even enjoy anything these days😭😭😭

I know what you mean by rules but damn can I just have this?😥

Sometimes, just sometimes I want to say shit without having to share my thought process you know?!🤧

Can't even have my delulu moments in peace

I don't think excessive self groping was part of the rules of the game but I definitely see where you are coming from and I agree.

Jin snitched on Tae and had him relegated to the start line for not holding the pillow with both hands. The game required they held the pillow with both hands at all times.

It makes sense thus for anyone to see that moment such or take it at face value...

Quick question. Do you think JK had any intentions of grabbing that frame and running with it?🤔

Because that's as far as my common sense and rationality goes. My Jikook logic sort of digress at this juncture.

I don't think JK intended at all to compete against Jimin. Not after JM whined about not winning anything in the game prior to that moment.

Jk took on a cheerleader role after that comment and started hyping JM up. May be it's just me but JK does this thing where he intentionally throws games so JM can have a win.

I mean he's done that countless times in run episodes and what not. I really don't thing he intended to compete against JM- not in the position he lay in.

And if you, find it hard to comprehend this bit look at JM throughout the game. His target was Tae and not JK. He had his eyes on Tae the most and would turn in his direction on each turn he took.

I think that's partly because Tae was the most ambitious of the three and for Jin JK and Tae had blocked his path to JM which is why he held on to their legs and later pinned Tae down to prevent him from winning.

For JK, he didn't present himself as a threat at all. There was no way he could grab the frame and run in the position he was in. I mean Tae was in the same position but he turned around in the opposite direction so he could flee after grabbing the frame.

JK complained about being too close to the frame he couldn't even see Jimin which prompted that peekaboo from Jimin.

And because JK was presenting himself as a non threat, he was the one JM targeted first when he did finally turned around to catch the culprit. He probably thought JK was gonna trick him or something.

I mean he knows the man more than anyone- he's been saying.

But when he realized JK wasn't going anywhere and Tae had grabbed the frame instead it was too late. He had to twist 90 degrees the other way to try and catch Tae.

If you ask me JK was just going through the actions. I mean it's not like he can just blatantly throw the game. But if he really wanted to compete he would have.

And I don't think he was even grabbing that pillow. This is him grabbing the pillow:

Look how far up it rises from the ground when he grabs it from in between his legs- and he's sitting upright.

To grab it lying down like that, the pillow would have risen much higher than it was as he has shorter hands in that position.

Look at Hobi's above. Or even Tae's pilow in this photo. Or even JK's when he is actually grabbing on to the pillow from in between his leg. Look at the wrinkle in the cushion when they exert pressure on it.

Jk wasn't grabbing his pillow. Not sure what he was grabbing but it sure as hell wasn't his pillow😏

Imma have to call Run show runners and snitch on him myself. Lol.

May be he tried to grab it but couldn't reach it. Me nuh know. I'm waiting for the behind the scenes to see what else went down in there. Cos my left brian just isn't registering.

His butt was too close to the edge of the pillow for him to even grab it in that way but to each her own.

And just the way he was lying there... he didn't even flinch when JM dropped down on him or when Tae reached over his head to grab the frame. He was gone. Checked out on cloud nine. Lmho.

It was a competition and I've seen competitive JK. He wouldn't let anyone grab the frame if he wanted to grab that first- dude didn't even try let's be honest. Compare this to when Jimin grabbed a photo he was arranging in the run episode they both wore pink as punishment. Look how wild he was when Jimin did that. He had to apologize to JM for snapping at him- That's it, I'm sending a truck. JK why gay imida? 🤨

He was more creative with his legs when he went up against Hobi than he was with his hands in that moment.

He wasn't just competing against JM he was competing against Jin and Tae too. I mean did you see him look at Tae at the start of the game- keep your eye on the competition. He seemed bent on winning but somewhere along the line he gave it up.

Now I'm not saying he was doing the nasty in that moment- just saying he gay and he nasty and that was nasty as fuxk uWu🤭. There was some gay feelings coursing through him as he lay there I won't hear nothing else.

Anywho, chilee I'm not gonna be arguing with no one on Beyonce's internet. Certainly not gonna argue facts with opinions too.

I wish I could give JK the benefit of the doubt in this instance but...

Fool me ones shame on him. Lol

I'm just gonna have to put that moment on my JK gay tab and run around butt naked through the streets waving my JK's gay flag and enjoy this moment and episode because it was fun.

Jikook is real.

I'll be on my merry way now. Ciao👅

Lol.

[Ps: I just noticed I didn't post the Ask I was responding to along with this post. I created a draft first and posted it in private but I'm too lazy to copy and paste it under the original Ask😬]

Signed,

GOLDY

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snuggetfish · 4 years

Note

I had this idea of Y0 Majima where he meets a new hostess at the Grand but after a few suspicion, he discover that the hostess is in the same shit-hole as him, as she works as a hostess to pay her debt. Do you think there would be some type of "automatic connection" between the two where they would use each other's shoulder to cry on?

Interesting scenario! I would say Majima would definitely empathize with her situation, but I think he’d also do his best not to reveal any more details than necessary about his own predicament. He’s clearing his debt in order to get back into the clan, while (he assumes) she’s clearing it so she can get as far away from yakuza life as she can.

A key factor here is also that as her manager, Majima does technically have a hand in helping her with her goal. Does he want to play favourites and blatantly overpay her? No, of course not. He’s smarter than that, but he also cares deeply about his employees. So maybe he’ll treat her to dinner more often than usual, under the guise of date training... or he’ll offer to pay for her basket at the convenience store checkout, where they both “happened” to be shopping that day. Anything to help her save more, because he knows full well what it’s like to have to count every single yen. And yeah, he also knows that with this endeavour he’s harming his own prospects and replacing even more of his meals with cigarettes... but he’s just self-sacrificial like that.

But while Majima might snoop on her routine a little, I don’t think he’d prod her directly for details. He’d look to other sources to find out which family she owes money to and how much. In case he needs to offer physical protection from them as well.

Now, what if he assumes wrong and she is in fact part of the underworld, but has temporarily “fallen from grace” just like he has? Maybe some scars or a hint of a tattoo tip him off and then the coincidence is just too high. He’ll reveal a few details about his own debt and probably try to first dissuade her from walking the same path he’s hell bent on.

A double standard, again... a bit of unintended machismo as well, since he’ll assume (again...) that she’s not bound by the same honour codes as male yakuza and getting back into an organization that anyway scorns her gender is not a good idea. Which yeah, maybe... but to have made it this far and to still want to keep going... that takes some determination. And that goes for both of them. Majima and his badass hostess tearing through Tojo HQ to break free of their chains? Hell, why not?

#anon asks

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years

Text

Kakashi Hatake x blind!s/o

STOP this was so cute I had to write immediately. Chose Kakashi because he jumped at me and demanded it

and thank you so much!! (hope you’re staying safe as well!!!)

With the sun going down, the glow of activity in Konoha’s streets was diffusing. Shopkeepers closed their doors for the evening, and vendors packed their merchandise and disassembled their stalls.

Kakashi strolled through as the village quieted itself. One of the shopkeepers, recognizing him, waved in greeting. He waved back, sluggish despite having taken a relatively early leave from work.

Though the hour was a rare but generous one for Kakashi to find himself on the path home, he was exhausted to his bones and had to more than once remind his feet to carry their own weight and stop dragging along the dirt.

He loosed a sedative breath.

Paperwork had done in him that day, and though the notion of sliding under his sheets and picking up a novel he was close to finishing was a tempting one, he didn’t think he could scroll his eyes over another inch of lettering without going nauseous. He decided he’d let his pillow have his attention the rest of the night. He needed sleep, desperately.

And so deciding, took a shortcut down a narrow alley which would bring him closer to his street. Turning out of the the alley, he glanced another shopkeeper, stooped to the ground and gathering something in their hands.

When they stood, unaware that Kakashi—who was himself errant of his surroundings, courtesy of exhaustion—was at their heel, their pivoting motion put them in his path and they collided. The shopkeeper’s belongings were knocked from their arm’s clutches.

Senses returned, Kakashi managed to snatch one or two of the tumbling items, which he now saw were various books and pamphlets, before they toppled down into a heap with the rest.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered quickly, going on his haunches to retrieve the others, as he did so, noticing the shopkeeper bent down with him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her hands roaming over the ground in search of the fallen objects. He was too muddled by his own inattentiveness to notice the oddity of her seeking movements. “I didn’t see you, either.”

Only once they’d gathered her capsized belongings did he glance up to greet her with his eyes, and only then as he took his careful inspection did he understand why her previous comment had been fastened with such a... nimble, humorous undertone.

She was blind. The glaze of cloudiness over her pupils was indicator enough—a paleness unlike those of the Hyuuga, Kakashi saw—but not the most telling demonstration; though she faced him, she didn’t appear to be looking at him, her eyes idling somewhere around his chest, centering where they felt most agreeable without the proper perception to guide them.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, now stranded with an advancing fluster, and stood to his feet slowly, rising in punctual fashion only when she followed suit.

“It’s okay,” she insisted again.

Behind her on the shop windowsill was a box, which she reached for and claimed with surprising precision. Once she’d slipped her reclaimed books inside the box she proffered it to him, and realizing, he carefully placed his own salvaged items along with hers.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” she granted, smiling kindly, eyes still settled comfortably on a horizon of her choosing, somewhere under his chin. “I might have heard you coming otherwise.”

“My fault, really,” he amended. “I was... I’m sort clumsy when I’m tired.”

But the desire for sleep had absconded his head, and the uncomfortable debacle pumped alertness back into his system. It was silly of him to be so debilitated by this, he knew, yet the pulsing nervousness in him went undisputed.

Another box filled with books caught his attention, previously stocked and placed against her shop door.

“Can I help you with all of this?” Unthinking and without a reply to inspire him, he bent to take the box. “Are you packing up for the day?”

The box included scrolls swathed in metal clasps. She knew he’d claimed it in his arms when the clasps rattled noisily against one another. “I am,” she said. “These are the things I keep out here, on display. And I appreciate the offer, but I can manage. I live a ways down.”

Her nod in the direction at her back confirmed that assistance would take him in the opposite direction of his home, but a searching and restless energy had curtailed his desire to go there.

“I really don’t mind,” he insisted, a touch of over-enthusiasm in his tone. A kind description of willingness in his expression clearly would do no good; he would have to compensate how he could to win her assurance. But he swore he could hear the sheepish skittering of his own voice, and hoped she didn’t hear it, too.

“I do it every day on my own,” she said, with what he presumed was a practiced patience; she still smiled at him, but there was a curve in her lips now that was aware of his fluster and unabashedly amused by it. “Don’t go out of your way.”

Readjusting the box already in her grasp to rest upon her hip, her free arm extended to him, inviting his relinquishment of her other possessions.

Fearful that his persistence might offend, but unwilling to so carelessly resign, he debated his next move until his hands decided course for him; they held the box to his chest resolutely.

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, moving, making his foot falls pointed and auspicious as he took a step in her desired direction. “I’m off work early today, anyways.”

“If you insist,” she yielded with a little laugh, still committed to her friendly smile.

He watched her carefully as she walked in tandem at his side, holding his tongue when he saw some foreboding dip in the terrain’s evenness, or a fellow villager on a direct course to bump into her. But each of these encumbrances she remedied flawlessly, with an unhurried detour in her gait or an acute twist of her body. Clearly she had been telling the truth when she mentioned this being normal routine. Kakashi was almost convinced that she had memorized each and every step of the route.

“Kakashi, is it?” she spoke up, pulling his focus from external anxieties.

“Uh—yes.” Before he could form his next inquiry—though given its presumptuous nature, it would have been a hesitant one to produce, anyways—she anticipated his puzzlement, and granted him mercy by way of an unprovoked answer.

“I’ve heard your voice before,” she explained. “It’s easy to remember voices. Once that’s the only thing you can go off of, at least.”

There was no self-pity in her voice, which in turn, invited none from him. He imagined that was a purposeful tactic of hers.

“But it’s also the chakra,” she went on. “Everyone’s is a little different. Not by much. I’m not a sensor by nature, but I rely on it now. The body will adjust, give a little in one respect when it feels a lacking in another.”

Kakashi looked at her. She was still smiling her little smile, as though this wasn’t the first time she had reasoned through the phenomena and wouldn’t be the last. Nor was the explanation without a sort of confidence; she appeared to have no qualms of her condition, and spoke of it with such steadfast acceptance that it was no doubt she gave it much thought at all anymore.

It was a nice thing, he decided, but it returned to him a meek warmth of shame that he had been so blatantly skeptical before, that he had made such a show of charity in response to his own preconceived doubts.

“That’s interesting,” he replied. “So... you weren’t a sensor at birth? Or at least, as far back as one can really remember that sort of thing...?”

A sweet chuckle sounded from behind closed, smiling lips. “Exactly. I don’t remember much, but I do know when I first started noticing.”

The proceeding conversation put him at ease, made the guilt he felt for trudging along in a hopeful correction of his earlier embarrassment slowly ebb away. She was kind, and clever, too, with an unfairly natural quick-wittedness about her. She made him laugh more than once: a genuine laugh that felt good and warming to be loosed through his wearied body after such a long week.

“I can take it from here,” she said, and came to stop in front of a house.

Kakashi slowed at her side to give the abode a quick admiration: small, but modest and seemingly comfortable. Potted plants lined her windows, well-nurtured vines and flowers sprouted over the edges.

He entertained no hesitation when she reached for the box in in his hands; he gave it over, but, feeling suddenly restless with its desertion, stuff his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgeting.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I hope this didn’t put you on too much of a detour.”

“Not at all.” He swore her eyes were higher in their post now, though not quite where they could yet make an imitation of eye contact. But Kakashi found it comforting, in a way, and for his own indulgence would resign it as something purposeful and not coincidental.

“You live near my shop, don’t you?” she was asking.

He nodded. “I do. A bit farther down...” Without prompting, he knew what should be offered to mark a pleasant end to their short—regrettably short, if he was being honest—chat, and to secure they might be granted another one soon. “I’ll make sure to stop in when I can. I read quite a bit. Is that all you sell? Books and the like?”

“Among other things. It’s a little ironic, isn’t it? Why own a book shop if you can’t make use of the books? Most people get a laugh out of it.” As if to prove a point, and furthermore soften the vexatious innuendos, laughed at her own notion. “I have my reasons.”

Though he was curious to hear those reasons, the sun was going down behind them, orange and warm, but a reminder nevertheless, that their encounter was a chance one and better left concise for the time being.

“I’d like to hear them at some point.” He would settle on saying that much. Another lukewarm suggestion, a way to tease a future promise of reunion.

“I’ll be happy to tell you. Do stop by, when you get the chance.”

“Will do.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

He waited until she had felt her way up her porch, opened her door, and closed herself inside—all of this, while still supporting boxes under each arm—then he set about back the way they had walked.

The attentiveness to conversation which usually suffered him through unwanted dialogue had diffused, yet that adrenaline, the one which kept him as engaged as his duties usually needed, still remained. Clearly, it hadn’t been unwanted dialogue after all.

There was a comforting hum relaxing his limbs as he walked, making the hands buried in his pocket slump cozily with the ease of gravity. Liable as he was to avoid trivial contact which exasperated him when he could, especially with his job making sociable demands of him already, this brief run-in had been all parts trivial but none exasperating.

Had such an incidental thing really been so eventful that it continued to swarm over him long after he had left her? Long after he had walked by her shop again, taken a good few minutes to admire it, before heading home?

It was like a little glow, one that hadn’t been there before, clinging to him now that they had parted.

Even when he arrived home and climbed methodically under the sheets, the glow went with him, straying his mind from the invitation of sleep and instead recounting the evening’s events.

Piecing together every little facet of the encounter was like a game, a silly and overkeen game which kept his brain up far longer than his body would have liked.

What was that thing she had told him as they walked, about having in her collection one of the oldest scripts written on The Land of Fire’s river systems? And had she really been returning his attentive glances, as though she had noticed him staring, or was that a trick of his mind? Had he said goodnight first? Or had she? And did she have that same smile on her face when she said it?

Some of the answers were stolid in his memory; others he fought to elucidate, for no reason other than the fact that he wanted to appreciate their encounter in its true, undiluted form.

Such confusing and superfluous thoughts. He was being so stupid, he told himself. Stupid.

But when he twisted under the sheets and finally set his mind to finding sleep, little inklings of memory, her face, her smile, her laugh, continued to ripple beneath the surface.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi imagines #kakashi #kakashi x reader

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tundrainafrica · 4 years

Text

Title: Christmas Day

Summary:

Haru convinces Rin to spend Christmas with him in Disneyland and Rin remembers when she used to go there with her parents.

Part two of my present to @hizashi-yamadas for the Animanga Secret Santa 2020

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other parts:

December 24: Christmas Eve (Toru x Kyo)

December 26: The Day after Christmas (Uo x Kureno)

Note: Merry Christmas Elisha and I hope you enjoy! Keep your eyes out for the next installment :D

Rin wasn’t planning anything big for Christmas. In fact, she had never really done anything for Christmas since she had moved out of her parent’s place and into Kagura’s house. Being reminded everyday by the dynamics of Kagura and her mother of the family life she did not achieve, somehow made her ponder her circumstances as a daughter, as a part of a family.

A holiday as big and supposedly as warm as Christmas despite the biting winter was only mocking her. It did not feel warm at all.

It was like any other cold day in winter and Rin found herself curled up on the blanket at four in the morning when she looked at her phone to see December 25 written on the front and a subheading below which said “Christmas Day.” She had heard that in other countries, Christmas day was an important holiday for families. At least there, it was bearable. Kagura and her mother only made it less bearable because those two liked to spend it together every single damn year.

She was sure Kagura wouldn’t invite her out like they did the first few years. Like every year, Rin was determined to stay alone in the room.

That was until she saw that message under the date.

Won free tickets to Disneyland. Let’s go tomorrow.

It wasn’t a question. In fact, it seemed like an order more than anything. Rin started to consider then, that maybe for that year, her Christmas plans would change. The name she saw above the message only convinced her more, to maybe get out of bed that day and find some other way to celebrate that dreaded holiday.

Rin was quick to reply. As she watched the bar fill as the message was sent, she looked back up at the name at the top of the screen and allowed herself a little smile.

Haru Soma.

Strangely, for the first time in so many years, she was excited for Christmas.

Christmas Day

It had been years since Rin had been to Disneyland. Or at least, it should have been years since then.

As Rin took in the view of the arc as they entered, the turnstiles and the crowds, it felt like just yesterday. Maybe because the view in Disneyland was timeless. The crowds and the families and the Christmas decorations never changed.

Suddenly, she saw her parents among the crowds and she could imagine them holding her hand and pulling her through the crowds. She was five years old again.

Back then she was happy. Back then, Christmas was magical. Back then, she was looking forward to going home that night and waking up to presents from Santa Claus.

The stark contrast then to what she had at present, the realization that everything had all been a lie, only left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth.

Every face she saw, every child, every parent was smiling. Every smile was warm. And Rin was wondering again what had gone wrong. She looked to Haru, hoping at least to see a warm smile there.

His face was blank. Maybe he was spacing out as they were navigating the crowd. She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed though.

“Where to first?” He asked. As they finally got past the turnstiles and into the crowd.

“You invited me.” I thought you’d be planning it. Rin had hoped he’d read that part with the look she gave him. He seemed unperturbed though.

“Okay, let’s see what looks fun.” He grabbed a guide from the nook on the side and looked through it. “This is my first time here. You’ve been here before right?”

“Maybe.” A long time ago. In another life.

After some walking, they arrived at a point in the park which looked like what could have been an old Western City. The buildings were streaked with colors of Christmas and it was when Rin looked closer did she see they were Christmas lights on green pines. She let herself look a little at it a longer, and a little more carefully. The pine gave an unnatural glint, if one looked closely enough to see it.

They were fake. Probably plastic. She’d been living a fake life for more than half her life. She continued to live completely aware that everything else could be fake The home she was enjoying in Kagura’s home could have been fake. Haru taking her out to Disneyland could have been another stage play.

Everything around her from the Christmas lights and the pine trees and the giant tree that illuminated the darker part of the semi-indoor Christmas town, although breathtaking was definitely fake.

Compared to years ago, Rin was not amazed. In fact, it was frustrating to see something so beautiful yet so blatantly staged.

“You wanna go on a ride?” Haru suggested. “The tower of terror is pretty popular apparently.”

They followed the map to the location of the ride. It wasn’t too hard. The tower stuck out amongst all the other buildings and they only had to follow its general direction to get a feel of where it was. They followed a few more paths, keeping an eye on the tower above.

Eventually, they were near enough to have to look up at it. Rin’s stomach dropped as she bent her head back to see how high the tower really went. She could hear the screams from the inside and the excited chatter from the long line that spilled far out of the entrance. They didn’t help at all.

In fact they only amplified that tingling sensation on her back. Within seconds, it was as if her scars were burning. Somehow, she was lying again on the ground, looking up at the sky, Akito looking down at her from his spot on the window.

“Let’s...get out of here.” Rin managed to say.

“Rin, you okay?”

Rin had felt it many times before. Terror would manifest itself as a million fingers grabbing at her, wrapping himself around her and suddenly she’d be unable to breath. She used to fight them. Something inside her though, still had a weak grip on reality and Rin was at least aware enough of the arm wrapping around her, and the benevolent intentions behind it.

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

Rin knew if at that moment she gave her body any more power, maybe she would have fought against the gentle arm running around her. Maybe she would have kicked or elbowed him from behind, the way she had wanted to when Akito did the same things.

It took more than enough effort but she managed to stop herself, channeling the fear and terror inside her and allowing it to manifest itself as time frozen, as the world going black.

For Rin, time stood still, except for the arms wrapped around her. She let them take her where she needed to go.

Christmas Day

“That was a stupid thing to suggest.. I’m sorry.”

To the average person, Haru’s voice would have sounded emotionless with no shred of guilt. Rin only had to look up at his gaze, to see that the guilt was there and the acknowledgement of his mistake.

“No it wasn’t… We wasted a good five hours of park time cause I just couldn’t get myself together,” Rin commented as she cut up the jelly they had ordered into smaller pieces. It was a simple exercise that was at least helping her clear her mind.

“The tickets were free. If you’re not up to it, we can leave now and just go somewhere else.”

“What are you suggesting?” Rin took one small bite of jelly.

“Maybe a mall? Or just the park? They have a Christmas Market in Hibiya.”

“They’re all crowded. It won’t make a difference.”

“Then maybe we can go back to the main house.”

Rin shook her head. “We’re already here. You got some free tickets. Might as well enjoy it.”

That last part was for herself. They were sitting in a relatively peaceful part of the park. The attractions around that area were geared towards children and Rin couldn’t help but note that compared to the area where the Tower of Terror was, the faces around her were a little more laid back. There were a lot more families with children and a few couples among them.

There was less hustle and competition among them to be first in line. The smiles were at least more relaxed. Many of the children were running freely, their parents following behind them. Even when frazzled, the parents looked happy. And the children, who looked back at their parents gesturing for them to follow, looked carefree.

Must be nice. How long had it been since Rin had smiled like that at her parents? She found herself even questioning her own emotions and her own experiences. And as she thought back to the same face her parents made, and the same way they had chased her through the park more than a decade ago, Rin realized one important thing.

“I’ve been here before.”

“I was sure your parents have taken you here before. Back when were kids, they never stopped bragging about your happy family vacations over Soma family dinners.”

Of course Haru would have remembered more than him. The shock at realizing that everything had all been part of an act, that every happy memory as a child had all been a lie had all been part of some large production, made it difficult for Rin to recall them at will.

Lies were things that simply didn't exist in reality. How could she grasp for something that never existed as something beyond an act or a lie?

The memories were still somehow vague but they were enough to rouse a little curiosity within her.

“Let’s go on a ride?”

“What are you thinking?”

Rin only had to point ahead for Haru to understand. The building was hidden behind trees from their angle. The bright colors of the castle stuck out. That was also the only ride within their field of vision.

Rin had to pick at her head to remember what exactly went on inside the ride. The cartoony Eiffel tower and the clock tower in odd and exquisite yet unrealistic shades were all too familiar. As a child, they had reminded her and even hinted to possibly a world beyond her own, complementing the many fairy tales and folk tales she had heard as a child. That part of her memory was at least what made the view in front of her as they closed in on the ride, all the more familiar.

As they got nearer and Rin let the trauma-hardened cynic within her take over, she started to notice the unnatural glint of cement and cheap paint, as the afternoon sunlight shined on it. Somehow, it had become comforting to know that even in that magical place, there were still some things that were bogus. That no one was exempt from stage plays and productions in life.

She didn’t know how long they were in line. She had occupied herself though flitting between her child self and her present self. Allowing herself to enjoy the mixture of colors and the fantastical artwork and then taking note of any indication of its artificiality when she found herself becoming envious of the children who haven’t yet lost the wonder in their eyes.

Haru was silent. At the least they were both comfortably silent.

When they had gotten nearer to the front of the line, that was when she started to remember further, what had made the artworks stick out a little longer.

There is just one moon and one golden sun and a smile means friendship to everyone.

Though the mountains divide and the oceans are wide...

It’s a small world after all. Rin found herself humming the characteristic chorus even preempting the actual music.

For a while she was smiling. For a while, she was enjoying it. It at least lasted until they secured a seat inside the small boat. The combination of the music and the carefree atmosphere as children rushed to the fronts screaming and laughing, made it all the easier for Rin to pretend that one of them was the Rin from ten years ago.

The cacophony of music and laugher and the bombardment of bright colors and lights made it difficult for Rin to feel the lump on her throat and the heaviness in her chest as the boat moved through it.

For a second though, everything was black. It could have been less than a split second, maybe an interval before the scenery changed. It was enough for the lump in her throat to make itself known, and the heaviness in her chest to push a little further. And even as the lights came up again and the scenery changed from fantastical Europe to a rendition of what looked like Arabian nights. Magical Carpets. Asian towers and what could have been a Jungle Book Puppet.

They were as beautiful as the last area. Rin had to note. The lump and the heaviness had taken over though and before Rin could even stop it, she felt a tear slide down her cheek.

The careful and intricate combinations of music and dancing puppets had created a beautiful experience for her as a child. Enough for her to recall the details decades later, everything all the way until the arm around her and the soft voice from her mother.

Stay nearer to the middle Rin, we don’t want you falling out.

Was it all a lie? Was her mother’s concern then a lie? The music was coming from some speakers. The puppets were just carefully choreographed and carefully programmed to make it look magical to a child. If Rin looked at them one by one though, she could see that the movements were too mechanical and repetitive.

Just like her own parents.

Rin had enough control of herself at least to guide herself out of the ride and to navigate among the crowds going out through the exit without bumping into any man. Haru could have been helping her then but at that moment she didn’t care.

She just wanted to get out.

“I’m not going back here again,” Rin said. “It’s fucking fake. Everything in this park is fucking fake.”

Once again, Haru and Rin were on a bench in the middle of the park. Rin was on her second cup of jelly. She appreciated the fact that the jelly and the burst of sweetness that came when it melted on her mouth wasn’t fake at least.

“Of course they are. They’re all man made attractions. If you wanted something real, we could have gone to a safari.”

“Then why do people like it so much?” Why did I enjoy it so much then? Once again, she was envious of the children passing by and the child within her for being able to enjoy something so artificial. Rin swirled the jelly in the cup in anger, completely transforming it into something which resembled pudding and water more than jelly.

“I don’t think people like the rides for the rides or the buildings for the buildings. It’s the atmosphere which makes it something worthwhile. I had fun today. I don’t think I would have had as much fun if I were alone though.”

Rin felt the blood rush into her face and she found herself mixing the jelly in the cup a little quicker, regretting it a second later as it started to feel more like water than jelly.

“It’s getting dark.”

Rin should have noticed the way the bright colors around the park were a little dimmer. She had been too focused on her own memories than what was there in front of her. And as the sky above her gradually shifted from shades of red to purple, Rin had to note that it was an unfamiliar site, particularly the way the colors around her adjusted to the new lighting as the street lights around the park started to light up.

The sun would set at late afternoon during winter. Her parents had always brought her out of the park as soon as the sun started to make its way below the horizon, even before the sky turned a bright orange.

It was a new scenery and with no memory to grab on to, Rin found herself looking at Haru next to her. He was quiet. It wasn’t anything too unusual. A feeling of guilt still washed over Rin as she realized she had spent the whole day focusing on herself and on the memories the park had brought her. She had spent her hours in the park, on the memories of her parents when there was someone next to her, who she could have at least enjoyed it with.

“Hey, before we go home, there’s something I wanna check out.”

Rin did not protest. She followed silently behind him as they made their way through the park. Her legs were aching already from the long walks and she was a little hungry, having only eaten two cups of jelly the whole day. She was starting to feel ashamed of herself and she knew she owed Haru at least that much.

By the time Haru had stopped, the sky was already dark, and the source of the illumination and colors around the park came from the streetlights around them.

They were in an area with bleachers and in front of them was a large body of water that stretched out in both directions.

“A lights show. I just thought it would look cool.” He waved the flier in front of her. “You’ve been to one before?”

Rin shook her head. She had been to Disneyland multiple times, but had never stayed late enough to see it at night.

The streets illuminated by a combination of the street lights and the Christmas lights on the way to the bleachers had been something new to her. As Rin watched as the water shot out of the ground in rhythm to the orchestra music playing in the background and as the colors scattered into different shades of the rainbow from a solid blue, Rin was sure, she had never seen something like that in her life.

The view of Disneyland at night was something completely new to her. It was new. It was exciting. She didn’t even notice the shallow breath she head let out in amazement as smoke appeared from somewhere mixing into the teal and the blue, a rendition very similar to that of the Northern Lights.

There was no unnatural glint of plastic to pick out. No individual movement to analyze. In fact, she didn’t even attempt to, for the first time, she was completely entranced by the performance in front of her.

It was a production, a play, just like the one her parents had made her watch for so many years. Somehow, the colors and the lights looked too authentic.

As it ended, she found herself just sitting, wishing it hadn’t ended, praying for an encore even as the people in front of her started to file out and a voice from some speakers were reminding people to watch their steps as they made their way out.

“You don’t wanna leave yet?” It was Haru’s voice that finally made her accept that the performance was done.

She had a short bout of laughter. It was an involuntary motion, an instinctive reaction to the situation in front of her. It could have possibly been directed at her own inability to process that it was over. As she looked at Haru though, she suddenly felt the need give a hard squeeze the hand that was on top of her for a large part of the spectacle.

“It was amazing.” Rin had wanted to say more but found herself at a loss for words. In the end everything from her head spinning in excitement, the blood rushing through her face and what could have been tears of joy or excitement creeping up at the corners of her eyes all culminated into one phrase. “Thank you.”

“It’s my first time seeing you this amazed,” He commented. “So, I guess you felt the magic?”

Felt the magic. It was a joke. An allusion to the introductory lines of the spectacle.

“Yeah I felt it.” As ridiculous as the word play was, Rin found herself playing along.

“Places are fun because of the people there,” Haru said. “I know your past memories in Disneyland are complete horseshit now. But it doesn’t have to be horseshit every single time.”

Rin felt a slight tingle of what could have been a mixture of excitement or assurance that spidered through her whole body. She traced the origins back to her hand he had squeezed in return.

“I’m not your parents Rin,” Haru continued. “Unlike them, I’m not putting up any lies in front of you. I had a lot of fun today.”

Rin had been betrayed enough to know what lies look like, how to pick out an overly rehearsed smile, the mechanics of rehearsed movements and glint. It only followed that she could pick out an absence of it.

Haru’s eyes were looking right at her, the smile a little too small, a little too hesitant to have been something he had rehearsed for a long time before that day.

In fact, he rarely thought his movements and his actions through. Maybe that’s why she had always trusted him. He never rehearsed, he never contemplated the next course of action. His decisions, his actions and words were usually too impulsive and too natural given circumstances to have been rehearsed.

His next few words would probably have been considered awkward to any other woman. Maybe a little too immature. Rin found herself opening up a little more, allowing herself to smile a little a little wider and to lean closer and onto his shoulder.

Her parents were the last thing on her mind. The young Rin and the magic of her experience in that park were a distant memory, all upstaged by the echoes of Haru’s words as they watched the dark stage in front of them in silence.

Let’s make new memories together.

#harurin #haru x rin #hatsuharu sohma #rin sohma #isuzu sohma #hatsuharu x rin #animangasecretsanta

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