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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the customer is always right is giving me life right now, I think about it all the time. Thanks for putting so much care into it, it’s beautiful.

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | code red

summary: on a rainy saturday morning, eddie learns how to make you feel good. an unexpected visit from the redhead on cherry lane throws a wrench into your plans. (15k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, newly established relationship, domestic bliss, max mayfield <;3 TW probable typos, swearing, very brief mentions of familial arguing, b*lly h*rgrove, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (f!receiving), eddie munch-son comes in his pants... again 18+ only!!

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Eddie looks pretty when he sleeps.

Well, he’s pretty all the time. Just a little extra now.

He’s at peace, totally lax in his slumber and in the quietude he’s found at your side. Pink mouth agape and billowing soft snores, long lashes fluttered shut and brushing the apples of his cheek, curly hair in a wild halo on his head and fanning across your pillow. This is the first time you’ve seen the loudmouth boy so still and so at ease in it.

Maybe that’s why he seems to look more perfect than usual now — because he’s different than you’ve ever seen him before. Calm. Quiet.

He’s found this unfamiliar serenity in your bed, in your home, and beside your body. It’s beautiful in the way nature is beautiful. In the way it just exists and inspires such beauty despite itself. Like the moon or the ocean, Eddie is so pretty in his peacefulness, with no earthly idea of how heavenly he is.

You must look horrendous in comparison.

And not just because you’re next to the eighth wonder of the world.

You tend to sleep like it’s the first and the last time you ever will. You’re wild in your slumber, not a moon but a beast, and forced to wear it all the next morning. Your mussed hair, puffy eyes, and rounded cheeks testify to the barbaric nature of your beauty rest. Your mornings, more often than not, are usually battles with the unrecognizable monster you wake with.

So, to save yourself from the inevitable embarrassment, you opt to get an early start on your day.

You try to slip soundlessly out of bed, but every movement feels aggressive in the quiet. Your blankets shuffle too loudly, your floors creak with every step, and your door squeaks more violently than you’ve ever heard it. Despite your gentleness, it’s all too audible when you’re still swaddled in the solitude of an early morning.

The strident sound of metal door hinges makes you wince. You look over your shoulder, expecting to see the sleeping boy beginning to rouse. You’re relieved to find him as still as ever. Still wrapped up in the blankets and clutching the pillow in a death grip, Eddie’s face is shoved contently into the cushion. Lips pouted. Snores muffled. Hair untamed.

The ocean. The moon.

You wonder how often he shares a bed. If he ever has before.

He spent the majority of the night taking up most of the mattress. The only time his limbs weren’t totally starfished was when he was curled up and stealing the blankets. You didn’t mind, though. You found it quite endearing, actually. Especially when Eddie would wake at some random point in the night and cover you back up again, ushering you back into his side.

“Sorry,” he’d mumbled, slurred and still groggy with sleep.

“’S okay,” you’d whisper in response.

Because it was.

You’d happily suffer the cold and barely an inch of space on any bed if it meant Eddie was beside you to pull you back into him again.

Your assurances went unheard, however, because he was already slipping back into his slumber. When he was deep asleep once more, Eddie would turn to his other side and forget you were there. He’d take the blankets and the cuddles with him while you curled into his back in attempts to chase them both.

And, rather strangely, it was the best night’s sleep you think you’ve ever had.

That’s probably why it’s easier for you to get out of bed now, despite all the things calling you back to it. Stormy weather, warm blankets, and a beautiful boy wrapped up in it all. Your body longs to dress up in it and him, but you don’t allow yourself the privilege.

You can’t.

The last boy to stay over that wasn’t Steve was Jason Carver. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed douchebag woke up before you the following morning — the six o’clock wake time likely engraved into the gym rat’s psyche. And you, having put far too much work into your appearance than he was worth and having slept in all of it, didn’t look your best.

Your makeup was smudged, your hair was a mess, and your eyes and cheeks were swollen with sleep.

To Jason, you were a different person entirely.

A beast. A monster.

“It’s nothing,” he’d shrugged when you asked him why he looked like he just saw a ghost. “You just… You look different.”

Not yet recovered from the Hargrove heartache, you had little patience for assholes disturbing your peace. You squint your tired eyes at him in return. “If a girl’s never let you stay over before, you can just say that, Carver.”

That shut him up real quick.

You think you could probably take that kind of assholery from a lot of people. It’s not like you haven’t before, but it’d be different coming from Eddie — from the only boy who’s made you feel worthy of actual affection. Not just the bogus kind that disappears when the sex is over.

To save both of you from any potential suffering, you slink quietly out of your room and tiptoe down the hallway. You wash your face and brush your teeth with the faucet on low. You try your best to tame your wild hair and sleep-ridden features without making too much noise.

It wouldn’t matter how quiet you were, though. You could’ve been completely and utterly silent; Eddie still would’ve known you were gone.

He noticed your absence the second you got out of bed.

It was like you left an iceberg of emptiness in the place of your warmth.

He heard the creak of your short trek down the hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door latching, and then the low hiss of the faucet when you turned on the sink. All of your nearly inaudible noises reminded him that he wasn’t alone — that, for the first time in his life, he was sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t just a friend.

It’s a little uncanny, living a life he never thought he would have. The freak from Forest Hills Trailer Park is sleeping in a pretty girl’s bed. A pretty girl who cooked him dinner the night before and gave him mind-blowing head right after, providing him an orgasm from which he swears his legs still tingle.

It’s something straight out of his dreams. Something that only could’ve existed in his head before now. Before you. It’s almost too good to be true.

More than feeling underserving of it, Eddie’s got no idea what to do with it.

What do you do for a girl who’s too perfect for everything?

There’s nothing he could do for you, nothing he could give to you, that would come close to matching how he feels about you. Having all these feelings but not the means to describe them is frustrating. Suffocating.

He just wants to be able to tell you that he doesn’t want any of this to be about him, that he doesn’t want to be like all the assholes you’ve known before. You’re not a toy to him, not some pliable thing without feelings that’s only fun until it isn’t.

He wants whatever parts of you you’re willing to give him — grateful for a piece of your heart, enraptured for the whole of it. Eddie just wants these too big feelings to be mutual, those innocent and otherwise.

He hears the bathroom door creeaak slowly open after a few minutes more. It’s followed by the soft padding of your feet down the hall. He can tell you’re trying to be quiet.

Because he loves you, he pretends to be asleep when you come back to the bedroom. He buries his smile into the pillow when you slither into bed with the softest touches a human being can muster. All because you don’t want to wake him.

The boy humors you for a few moments before acting like he’s waking up all over again. He groans to himself, writhing as he tenses his tired limbs.

You wince. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” you whisper.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie shakes his wild head against the pillow.

He squeezes them shut while he stretches, turning onto his arched back and curling his arms above his head. The cutest, muffled whine sounds from the back of his throat while he tries to make use of his stiff limbs. The noise resembles that of a yawning puppy making a sound much larger than itself. You can’t help but smile.

“Morning,” you greet, grinning at the newly woken boy. You prop yourself on your elbow and lean a few inches over to press a chaste kiss to the apple of his warmed cheek.

Eddie smiles a tired, crooked smile in return.

With the sleep finally cleared from his eyes, he can see you much better. Now, freshened up, you look less like a casualty of the early morning. You’re glowing, smelling of vanilla and flower petals, beaming at him without the added weight of exhaustion. No one should look so pretty at this hour.

Or any hour, really.

“Yes, it is…” he lilts, a tad bit gruff with sleep.

Your cheeks speckle with hot embers.

Despite the very visceral reactions each of his compliments give you, you squint at him in return. “Are you always this charming so early in the morning?”

“When there’s a pretty girl in bed next to me, yeah.”

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask him, opting out of what would otherwise be ten minutes of meaningless banter.

“Better than I have in a long time,” Eddie answers without thinking. He says it with full sincerity but forgets to forgo the teasing inflection in his voice. It makes you roll your eyes, figuring he still must be mocking you.

He quickly adds: “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the pretty girl in bed next to me, alright? I promise.”

“Good,” you hum with a tightlipped smile. “‘Cause I slept pretty good, too... You’re like a personal space heater, you know?”

It makes sense, really, for such a spitfire to radiate such warmth. And you, lacking enough blankets to stay sufficiently cozy throughout the night, took to Eddie like honey on toast. He was a weighted blanket, a heating pad, and a teddy bear rolled into one.

You think he might be the most comfortable person you’ve ever slept with — in the most literal sense, of course. But you’ll keep that to yourself, lest you break Robin Buckley’s heart.

“Is that why you kept putting your cold feet on me all night?” he jokes.

Your cheeks blot with heat all over again. Your face scrunches softly, partly in embarrassment but mostly in apology. “Sorry…” your murmur.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. His assurance comes swiftly, a brisk slap in the face to your simmering worry that you might’ve made him uncomfortable in some way. Eddie often forgets how quick you are to take the blame for something. Or to find a too literal meaning in one of his dumb jokes.

He makes a mental note to work on that. He can’t have his best girl thinking she’s less than perfect because he never learned to think before he speaks.

“I’m just glad I could be of service, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t regret sleeping over?” you wonder like a meek child, voice tiny and gaze swimming with timidity — expecting rejection.

“No,” he answers assuredly and with the curt shake of his head. His lips jut softly out as he turns his gaze to the ceiling. He seems to think to himself for a moment before turning his umber irises back to you again, nose scrunched. “I don’t think I could regret anything with you, honestly.”

You know there are a lot of things you could do in this moment.

You could squeal like a teenage girl and run around your tiny apartment. With the burst of energy his affection gives you, you think you could take a lap around the block in five seconds flat.

You could also smack a kiss to his lips if you wanted. You could kiss him and keep on kissing him until both of you are blue in the face.

Or you could pretend you’re not all that affected by his words. You could play it cool, joke around like this foreign fluttering feeling in your belly is one you’ve felt before.

It’s too easy to choose the latter.

“Wow,” you lilt with wide eyes, dragging out the vowel for effect. “The charm really charged up overnight, huh?”

“You caught me at a good time,” he quips.

“I’m honestly a little impressed.”

“Well, be prepared to be fucking baffled, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m not getting out of this bed all day,” he threatens, brown eyes twinkling and pink lips curling.

He rises from the mattress to lean over you. His slender figure cages yours in the same way his words do. Both are equally as warm and all-consuming.

The offer is bold and not really an offer at all. He could easily blame it on the weather if he needed to. He could bluff and say it was because of the pounding rain outside — not because being away from you for too long hurts like burning lungs screeching for air.

If you take angst with his self-invite, there are a million lies he could come up with on the spot. But he knows you won’t. You’re too kind for your own good, and you love on him more than he deserves.

So, it really shouldn’t surprise him when you smile and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Eddie has to fight back a shiver that crawls up his spine when your fingers curl into his untamed hair.

“Good,” you hum again, mouth parting to welcome his own shortly after.

He kisses you like he was made to do it. Your lips interlock, break apart, then press together again in an even rhythm. It’s like nodding your head to your favorite song — Eddie doesn’t have to think about doing it, he just does it.

It makes you wonder when he stopped overthinking each of his movements with you. His confidence bloomed like a flower, too gradual for you to catch. You only know that he’s blossomed wholly now. He’s at ease and finally comfortable with you. That’s all you ever wanted in the first place.

Your lips separate with an audible click when Eddie pulls away from you.

“Should I brush my teeth?” he wonders with furrowed brows, made self-conscious by the minty freshness on your tongue.

He’s sort of looking for guidance here. Really, his question is, do couples care about morning breath, or do they love each other too much to think about it?

“I feel like I probably have crazy morning breath.”

“It’s not too bad,” you shake your head and fight the urge to tell him you’ve tasted far worse than stupid morning breath. You don’t want your slutty humor to sour the mood.

“No?”

“No. I promise. It’s fine.”

Eddie’s face scrunches for a moment as he thinks to himself. He tries to gauge whether or not you’re bluffing — if you really do mean it or if you like him too much to tell him that truth.

But maybe that’s what couples do. Maybe they don’t care about morning breath. Maybe they just love the other person enough to brush their teeth anyway.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back—”

“Eddie, don’t!” you plead, borderline whining when he threatens to slip out of your grip. You tighten your arms around his shoulders but don’t fight when he keeps inching away.

“I’ll be right back!”

Your mewls of displeasure are muffled when he reaches the bathroom.

Eddie stays gone for no longer than five minutes. He uses the toothbrush you bought for him to freshen up his mouth. He brushes them a tad bit aggressively in his haste. And when he gargles your spearmint mouthwash, he nearly chokes on it because he’s scrambling like a madman to get back to you.

He knows he’s got no real reason to rush other than his promise of being right back. Truth be told, he just hates depriving himself of you longer than he has to.

Despite having hurried, Eddie finds you all covered up and facing the opposite way of the door when he returns. “Did you survive?” he jokes as he walks back into your bedroom.

“No,” you answer into the pillow.

He laughs softly to himself when he crawls back into your bed, bounding over you and to the opposite side of the mattress. The blankets are still crumpled up in his shape. It’s all too easy to slip back in beside you — especially when you slither closer to him almost immediately.

“Poor thing,” Eddie coos at the sight of your playfully pouted lips. He ducks down to press a kiss to them.

The action comes so suddenly it makes your eyes go wide. You pull the blankets up to your chin. “What was that for?” you ask in a shy, warm murmur.

Eddie shrugs.

He doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know why he’s just kissed you or why he’s ever wanted to before. Sometimes it just feels right to.

“You just looked like you needed to be kissed,” he concludes.

Your grin widens. “I do.”

“I knew it.”

“Desperately so,” you affirm, only partly joking. “More than I need to breathe, in fact.”

“Ooh,” Eddie hums in return. “Guess I should keep kissing you then, huh?”

“Never ever stop kissing me, Eddie Munson.”

The confirmation of your yearning is all he really needs. Your playful but still wholehearted affirmation bats away his lingering insecurities. You want him like he wants you. The validation lets him melt emphatically into you like pancake syrup or marshmallow fluff.

Something sickly sweet and twice as sticky.

Your kisses are just the same. They’re languid and made of velvet. As they deepen, you begin to suck on the soft plush of his bottom lip. Your expert tongue swipes against his mostly unskilled one. It’s slow and easy and relaxed — like you’ve already been kissing him for an eternity with a willingness to kiss him for an eternity more.

“See?” Eddie teases, partly muffled against your mouth until he can pull far enough away to smile at you with his freshly brushed teeth. “Isn’t this better?”

“I thought I said to keep kissing me,” you answer, wrenching the collar of his shirt in your fists to pull him back down again.

“Yes, ma’am,” he jokes back. Thankfully, your mouth is already on his by the time his words settle over him. It wasn’t supposed to be sexual — but now, lying over you and between your legs, it feels sexual.

You don’t see the flash of shock on his features — not the wide eyes or the raised brows — but you do feel him tense. It’s like a rock is suddenly lying on top of you. You couldn’t make fun of him even if you wanted to, though. You’re exponentially wetter at his words.

Your innocent kisses become passionate. They’re wide, quicker, needier.

Weighed down by the heaviness of the moment, you don’t think twice when your hand trails down his chest.

Your touch is soft like rain. Your fingers drip drip drip down his torso and stomach, heading for the hem of his pajama pants. You hardly realize you’re doing it until Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist.

He’s not pulling you away. He’s not even urging your closer. He’s just reminding you that you don’t have to.

“Sorry,” you mutter against his mouth anyway.

“Don’t be,” he assures, shaking his head as he pulls back from you. The edges of his fluffy curls tickle your jaw. “It’s my turn now, right?”

“Your… turn?” you echo.

“I mean... I gotta return the favor now. Right?”

He’s talking about the night before. About the head-rolling orgasm and the haze he’s been in ever since. It’s the only way he can ask to eat you out without stuttering over himself like an idiot. The only other time he’s been able to talk about it was that evening on the phone with you — when he held the plastic telephone in one hand and his cock in the other.

“Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier,” he confessed, so close to his orgasm he could taste it. “I’m thinking about how I coulda taken you on that bench... Get on my knees for you… Shove my head between your legs…”

The longing to taste you hasn’t yet left him.

He knows he might’ve had the opportunity forever ago if he wasn’t such a loser. But now, all he can do is make some lame excuse that sounds a lot less enthusiastic than he feels. He figures it might be better than getting on his knees and outright begging to put his mouth on you, though.

“Eddie…” you mutter in a delicate whisper.

He lifts your wrist from between your bodies and lays it on the pillow beside your head. The move feels strangely dominant. It strikes a feeling of overwhelming desire within you. You know you’d do just about anything he wanted in that moment.

If he wants to make you feel good, that’s great. If he wants to use you to make himself feel good, that’s okay too. You don’t really care what he wants to do with you — to you. But you do want to know if he truly wants to do them.

“What’s that look for?” he asks at your bemused expression.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Eddie nods.

He’s memorized the whole spiel already. Don’t do it if you feel like you have to, you always tell him. I’m fine just making you feel good if that’s all you wanna do. Or if you don’t wanna do anything at all. It’s all okay, I promise.

“Just because I did it for you doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I know,” he repeats, a bit more desperate than before. He drops his face down to nudge his nose against the bridge of yours, then rises again shortly after. “That was just my way of asking…”

“To eat me out?” you press.

Eddie nods.

“Well… You coulda just said.”

“Yeah,” the boy scoffs. “Because ‘good morning, can I perform cunnilingus on you’ is so romantic.”

You laugh. It does sound quite strange, but you only meant that most guys aren’t usually polite enough to ask. The few that care to return the favor at all just assume you want it without question.

Most times, you do.

But still, an invitation would be nice.

“Well, I would’ve said yes,” you manage through your giggles. “Just so you know.”

Eddie’s nose scrunches. “Really?”

“Totally. I mean, my legs would’ve been wide open immediately—”

It takes him a moment too long to realize you’re just messing with him. You’re serious, sort of, but still teasing. He huffs in annoyance and nods just to humor you. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Like— ‘Oh, my god, where did my underwear go?’”

“Shut up,” Eddie grouses despite his own laughter. He presses another kiss to your mouth, partly to end your harmless taunting but also because he thinks you’re so damn cute.

He didn’t think the girl people call the town slut would turn out to be such a dork. He almost can’t believe there was ever a time when you intimidated him — when he would walk on eggshells around you out of fear of losing cool points with you. You’re a bigger idiot than he is a lot of the time.

You try to kiss him back, but it’s hard when you’re smiling so wide.

“I’m kidding, but I’m serious,” you confess after he’s pulled away again. Your eyes sparkle as they flit between both of his cinnamon-tinted ones. “You have… no idea what you do to me, Eddie Munson.”

He figures that’s at least half true.

As easy as it is for him to you read most times, he finds it incredibly difficult to gauge what’s going on inside your head. He’s still confused (and a little concerned) at how he got you in the first place. He has no idea why you ever wanted to be his friend, let alone anything more than that.

But, on the other hand, he knows how he feels about you. It’s all pounding hearts and aching chests and swirling stomachs. You might be afflicted by the same sort of love bug he is.

“I don’t know,” he singsongs. “I think I might have an idea.”

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” you offer with his wrist already in hand.

Eddie props himself on one arm while his other journeys down the length of your body. He’s forced to mourn the feeling of your warm skin when your oversized t-shirt from the night before shields him from you. His grief is fleeting and quickly fulfilled when you guide his fingers through the hem of your underwear.

You’re far warmer beneath the cotton fabric. Wetter too. The pads of his fingertips slide over the thatch of trimmed hair at your pubic bone before settling over the softness of your lips. They feel like velvet compared to the silk they keep hidden.

His finger dips between them, just below the button of your clit, and it makes both of you moan. You, from a brief ripple of pleasure, and Eddie, from the notion that you’re this wet only for him.

“If you ever needed proof of how much I want you, here it is,” you tease, all breathy and with a pretty smile.

Eddie’s too overwhelmed by the feel of you to respond. Overcome with the want to touch you all over, all he can do is duck down for another kiss. It’s abrupt and a bit jejune — noses knocking together before your lips can meet properly.

Eddie feels you smile against his mouth and exhale a laugh through your nose. He’s too clouded with lust to care that you’re finding humor in him. Too affected by his adoration for you to feel humiliated.

Several moments pass like that one. With his lips caressing yours the same way his hand caresses your cunt. He seems to be more focused on feeling you than rushing you towards an orgasm.

He spends ample time tracing the edges of your pussy. He circles the swelling button of your clit before dipping down to feel your hole clench around nothing as it threatens to suck his fingers inside. He’s only memorizing you — committing every inch of your cunt to memory — lest it be the last time he ever gets to touch you.

You wonder if he knows where to go from here, what to do next.

You decide it might be better to guide him anyway. For his sake and for yours.

“Should I take them off?” you ask.

Eddie nods. The tip of his nose glides against yours, and the ends of his hair brush the sides of your face. He parts from you and sits back on his haunches. When your hands reach for your underwear, his dart out to stop you.

“Wait,” he protests, your wrists in his grip. “Let me do it.”

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile and rest your hands obediently on your stomach as Eddie’s fingers curl around the hem of your panties. His touch is much colder compared to your warmed skin. It makes you wonder if he’s nervous.

When he tugs your panties down, you lift your hips to aid him. He pulls the fabric up your thighs and over your legs, then balls the cotton in his fist to chuck them rather dramatically over his shoulder. You hear it land somewhere on the floor behind him. It makes you giggle.

He’s too distracted to hear you, though.

You watch him watch you. His chocolate eyes are wide as they blink down at you like they’ve never seen you before. His palms absentmindedly caress the very backs of your thighs, keeping you nice and spread for him so he can gape at your glistening pussy without issue.

You figure this must be what virgins do — stare in absolute wonder at the first vagina they ever see. You certainly gawked at Steve Harrington’s inhumanely large cock the night he took your virginity.

It was a lifetime ago now, but you still remember how the leather of his backseat stuck to your sweaty skin and how his car rocked with each of his languid thrusts.

It’s sort of what Eddie’s doing now, making mental notes of everything so he’ll never forget them. And as proud as it makes you feel, you can’t help but writhe in self-consciousness below him.

“I hate when you do that…” you half-whine within your half-joke.

Eddie feels your thighs tense and drift closed. He lets you half-heartedly shield yourself, but the attempt is futile. You can’t quite shut your legs from where he sits between them. He rubs soothingly along the outsides of your knees.

“Do what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“Look at me like that…”

It doesn’t lessen his confusion.

He hadn’t seen anything wrong with what he was doing before. You were his girlfriend, after all — surely he was allowed to look at you every now and then.

Eddie figures he can’t be blamed for it anyway. Looking at you was like looking at the moon or the ocean. It only felt right to awe at your beauty, even if it is one he’s already amply admired.

But it’s different, still.

The moon didn’t rise for him. Oceans didn’t touch horizons for him. But your cunt, made of the finest silk and looking just the same, glistened all for him. Just for him.

“I’m not allowed to look at you?” he laughs.

“No one’s ever, like… stopped and looked at me before,” you confess, still wriggling like you can’t quite get comfortable. You’ll never get used to being ogled at like a piece of fine ancient art when, at best, you feel like some mundane painting that might suffice in a motel lobby. “It’s weird…”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so pretty.”

“Shut up,” you laugh but wholeheartedly accept the kiss he threatens you with anyway.

It’s a simple peck. A sweet one. An easy one. Not too deep, but passionate still.

Eddie forces himself to pull back again. He loses his usually playful disposition and grows quite boyishly serious. “Not to be, like, super lame or whatever, but you’re probably gonna have to tell me what to do and stuff because I’ve never—”

“It’s okay,” you interject, still as gentle as ever. You know he hates having to remind you, and himself, that he isn’t well-versed in the means of pleasuring you. No one likes asking for guidance, especially not when it comes to the intricacies of sexual pleasures.

But, as Hawkins’ resident expert on the matter, you know no one gets good at a thing like this without asking for help every now and then.

“I’ll help you, Eds,” you promise in a seductive lilt and with a mischievous grin.

Your hands rise to his flushed cheeks to pull him down for another kiss. This one is much more ardent than his peck had been.

Eddie takes the lead. Not so much with ease, but without any push from you.

Your lips separate with a wet smack, only for his rosy ones to migrate down your jaw. His mouth trails down your neck, tongue darting out to lick you there. His smile curls against your skin when it makes you shiver.

He moves further downward, copying what you had done the night before. The kisses feel a lot less effective when pressed over your shirt. He kisses the fabric at your sternum where the faded face of Debbie Harry is printed.

You hold back your laughter when he huffs in frustration.

“Can we— Can I just take this off?” he wonders, impatient and annoyed with the thing, already tugging at its hem.

Your giggle escapes without warning.

Eddie lets you tug the shirt up and over your body without asking to do it for you. You let the fabric fall from your outstretched arm onto the floor beside your bed.

For the first time, you’re totally bare before him.

He’s seen bits and pieces of you, of course. Enough to know what you look like. Enough to think of you when he jerks off in the shower. Eddie’s seen enough of your body to fall in love with it — but to experience its glory in its entirety is much, much different.

“You’re doing it again…” you complain playfully. You feign displeasure when really you just hate feeling like a piece of glass.

“Shh…” Eddie shushes you. His glazed-over eyes don’t stop glossing over your naked body. “Let me look at you…”

You let him.

And he just looks at you. For several agonizing moments, all he does is look at you.

He commits every inch of you to memory. The rise and fall of your breasts with each of your anticipatory breaths. The pudge of your belly that pairs so nicely with the plush of your hips. The way his hands fit perfectly hugging your sides.

He caresses you up and down — from your ribcage to your stomach to your hips. He settles on your thighs and finds himself squeezing you there again, though he isn’t totally sure why. He just doesn’t know what else to do with such a beautiful thing other than to hold tightly onto it.

Eddie leans down again to press a kiss to your newly bare skin, right between your breasts, and you’re not sure why you’re moaning, but you are. There’s something quite tender in the intimacy you’ve been deprived of for so long.

His lips trickle down down down your body like gentle drops of summer rain. He moves with the ease of someone who’s done this before. He’s forgotten to be nervous.

When he gets to your stomach, he leaves another kiss just below your belly button. His heavy breaths fan over your cunt when he ignores it completely and instead decides to pay tender attention to the insides of your thighs. His arms curl around them. It feels like he’s embracing them.

You watch him, a little amused with the whole thing — with this unsure boy between your legs. You don’t even realize you’re smiling.

One hand snakes into the curls at the crown of his hand, and the other sits contently over his knuckles along your thigh.

“Just kiss my pussy like you’re kissing me now,” you guide gently. The moan he exhales fans against your skin. “Whenever you’re ready, okay? There’s no rush. You’re already doing great, Eds.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he mutters into your inner thigh.

“I can’t compliment you?”

“No, I’m talking about— about your… pussy.”

“What’s wrong with saying pussy?” you giggle.

“What’s wrong with it?” Eddie echoes with wide, inquisitive eyes. His swollen mouth curls into a grin as he laughs alongside you. “It’s gonna make me fucking explode without you even touching me — that’s what’s wrong with it.”

“That’s… really hot, actually,” you admit rather candidly.

Something about Eddie finding his own sort of pleasure in pleasuring you makes you somehow needier for him.

He shakes his head, feeling like he’s being teased again. “Shut up…”

“I mean it,” you assure, then decide to joke. “But I guess I can get, like, anatomical or whatever if it’ll make you feel better.”

Now he knows you’re teasing.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you and turns his attention back to the warmed skin of your inner thigh. “Jesus Christ…” he grouses to himself just before pressing his lips there. He doesn’t know how to be anything but tender with you. Even when you are being a dumbass.

“Oh, Edward— please touch my vagina,” you joke with all the makings of a pornstar plucked from the Victorian age.

“I hate you so much,” the boy laughs despite his delicate kisses on your body.

“Your tongue feels so good on my labia minora—”

Eddie separates from you, then, meeting your playful smile with a much more cynical grin. “Stop talking,” he directs with raised brows and wide eyes, looking like a parent slowly losing patience with an unruly child. “Unless you want me to shut you up myself.”

He doesn’t mean anything by the half-hearted threat. It wasn’t even supported to be dirty — he just sort of said it because he was tired of being the butt of the joke. It’s rare for him to be on the receiving end of any teasing because, most times, he’s too busy dishing it.

But you go quiet almost immediately. Your smile ebbs as your eyes go big and glassy. Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s just done something horribly wrong.

His grin fades and a childlike gape of horror floods his features. “Hey, I was just— I was just kidding. I didn’t mean it like… I’m just an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.”

You don’t mean to laugh, but you do.

He’s apologizing like he’s just done something irreversible, something awful he’ll never be able to take back. All he really did, though, was turn you on so desperately you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“It’s okay, Eds. It’s okay,” you assure through a burst of horribly suppressed giggles. “I liked it. It just— It surprised me. That’s all.”

“You liked me telling you to shut up?” Eddie wonders with furrowed brows. He’s not judging you, exactly, just confused and a little relieved.

“Not exactly. I just… I like when you’re assertive. You know, dominant?”

“Right,” he nods, but you can tell he still doesn’t quite get it.

You figure you’ll have ample opportunity to bring his gentle dominance to light. Just not this time. You think if you explained to him now, how he can have his mouth on your pussy and still have all the power, his brain might implode on itself.

“Just kiss me, Eds,” you guide, direct but still soft.

He shifts on the mattress. You can feel him getting ready to rise and lean over you again. Your hand in his hair tightens to stop him.

“Not there,” you hint.

Your smile is kind, yet playful. Sarcastic, yet sensual. Every one of your expressions is so complex. There are a million beautiful and conflicting labyrinthine flitters to your features he could point out to you.

Meanwhile, his face only goes lax with the realization. Dumbfounded and, well, just dumb.

“Oh…”

“Don’t overthink it,” you instruct quickly when you see him retreating to the shell of his mind. “I know it’s hard to, but… I’m gonna like anything you do, okay? I promise.”

Of course, your assurance quells perhaps his biggest problem — the oh shit, what if nothing I do feels good because I don’t know what I’m doing problem. But when he’s finally face-to-face with your glittering cunt, wetter than it had been just moments ago, he’s got no idea where to start.

He wants to touch you all over. He wants to dive in deep with his tongue and make you unravel entirely underneath him. He’s almost sure, though, that no guy’s ever got anywhere from being overzealous. Or worse, overconfident.

So he just kisses you. Like you asked. He presses his lips to the button of your clit in a peck he would otherwise insist upon your mouth.

The pleasure is fleeting. Negligible, at best. It’s a brief flash of distant lightning from your cunt to your spine. Your hips cant towards his mouth anyway, desperate for more of what he’s teasing you with.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open again. He licks his lips and tastes traces of you on them. His half-hard cock stiffens between his body and your mattress, trapped in the most delicious feeling.

“Good?” he asks you.

He knows he hasn’t done much. He just wants to make sure you’re okay with this — with him — or even that you’re just okayat all. He doesn’t want to do anything before he knows you’re comfortable.

You nod. “Good,” you echo, already breathless.

“Can I… Can I do more?”

“You can do whatever you want, Eds.”

And while that isn’t the most helpful in terms of guiding him, it gives him the go-ahead to touch you all over. That’s all he really wanted in the first place.

At a loss of where to start, Eddie begins to mirror what he’s seen in the movies — the rated XXX kind. He licks a flat stripe up the length of your cunt, from its opening to its apex. The irregular pattern of his tongue is much rougher compared to your smooth silk.

For a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, you seem to like it well enough. You exhale a low moan through an agape mouth, bucking your hips in a desperate attempt to follow his touch.

“You like that?” Eddie wonders. Just to be sure.

Your keen fades to a soft laugh. “Are you gonna ask if I like everything you do before you do it?”

“I just, you know… wanna make sure…”

Make sure I’m doing okay, he thinks to himself. Make sure it feels good for you and that I’m not making a total fool of myself.

“Here’s some advice,” you start, rising on your elbows to see him better. “If a girl’s moaning, that means she likes it. You can totally tell when they’re fake, I promise. Checking in every once in a while is good, but really the best time to ask is when she stops moaning, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, features gaping with wonderment. You think if you gave him a pen and paper right now, he’d start taking notes. “Okay.”

“Visual cues are always the best in terms of, you know, making sure someone’s into what you’re doing.”

“Visual… Cues…?” Eddie echoes slowly. Like a total idiot.

“Yeah. Like, if you can feel her getting wetter or if her legs are shaking… Things like that.”

The boy nods to himself. “Right…”

“I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, okay? Or if I want you to do more of something,” you assure. Your fingers scratch gently at the back of his head to seal your promise. “I’m here to help you, yeah? I’m like your… personal sex trainer. I’m gonna turn you into a professional, Eds.”

Instead of telling you that he doesn’t care much about being a professional anything — that he doesn’t need to learn how to make every girl feel good as long as he’s making you feel good — he just scoffs and gets to work again.

Eddie licks at your pussy with languid strokes, focusing mainly on your clit because it makes you moan the loudest for him. He full-on makes out with your cunt like he would your mouth, just like you asked.

It’s passionate and a little sloppy. He uses his tongue to spread you open as though he were prying into your mouth. He sucks your clit between his lips as though he were nipping at the plush cushion of your bottom one. It’s easier that way, to think of eating you out as expressing a sort of tenderness.

Making you feel good is just a bonus.

According to your pithy list, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Getting wetter? Check. Legs shaking? Check. You’re moaning quite a lot, too — breathy, deep, and satiny ones that make him groan against you.

Both of you are too far gone to notice Eddie’s hips grinding into the mattress. His neglected cock finds a distant relief with every half-hearted pass against the cotton.

Every delicate choice Eddie makes with your pussy is so easily felt.

He was nervous at first. If that fact weren’t already obvious to you, you would’ve known by the unsure kisses to your clit. He was trying to gauge your reaction, figure out what you liked most. Then, when he got more comfortable, so did his mouth. His kisses grew more confident, more languid, more unaware of himself.

Suddenly, and perhaps with the fleeting thought to heighten your pleasure by doing something different, Eddie starts doing more with his tongue. He becomes less confident, less languid, less himself.

He traces a sharp A along your pussy, quickly followed by a rounded B. You clock it immediately because you’ve felt it so many times before. And though it still feels quite nice, you find yourself laughing.

When Eddie feels you softly trembling, his chest swells with pride. He thinks you must be quivering with pleasure. A second later, he realizes you’re laughing.

His swollen mouth smacks when he pulls away from your pussy, lips glistening with your slick. He gapes at you with horrified honey eyes. “What?” he slurs, slightly drunk on the taste of you.

“Are you doing the ABCs?” you ask him, still giggling.

Eddie falters at having been caught so quickly. “…No.”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Munson. Every guy does it. I can tell you’re doing the ABC thing, babe.”

“I, uh… I read it in a magazine,” he confesses with his cheeks glowing red.

“I know,” you hum softly. “It’s okay. It still felt good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told you I would tell you, so I’m telling you,” you remind with a gentle smile. “Do you still want help?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, more sure now.

“If you want to use your tongue, you can put it where you’d normally put your fin— oh—” Your attempt to guide him ends in a tiny, broken moan when Eddie dives in quicker than you expect him to.

You thought he might take a second to hesitate, to ask if you were still sure like he always does. But, for perhaps the first time with you, he doesn’t think twice. He slips his eager tongue into the satin of you with an obviously unpracticed motion, and you whine pathetically underneath him.

It’s not how easily his tongue slithers into you.

It’s not how he explores the walls of your cunt like undiscovered territory.

It’s not even how the tip of his nose nudges your clit in a manner that can only be described as merciless.

What really gets you is the thought that he’s only ever done this with you — that you’re the only girl he’s ever tasted, that your pussy is the first to grace his tongue. The proud, borderline possessive feeling is nearly as gratifying as his mouth.

You can barely talk through Eddie’s attempts to swallow you whole. Every time his nose bumps your clit when he flicks his tongue just so, an electric shock shoots down your spine. You’re slowly forgetting how words work.

You try to coach him through it anyway.

“Most girls… They, uh— They like when you switch between your tongue and your… your mouth. But I, um… I like this for a while— fuck, Eds.” You throw your head back when he audibly slurps at your drooling pussy. His own moan is muffled against you as your hand tightens in his hair.

It takes a moment or three to catch your breath again.

“But when I get close, like… right before I’m about to come, I usually like when guys— oh— when they suck on my clit—”

And even though you’re not exactly talking dirty to him, your words make Eddie groan against you anyway. The heavy grunt is hummed into your cunt — low and rumbling like thunder that travels the length of your body in the same resounding way.

Eating pussy was easier than Eddie thought it might be.

It had its little intricacies, of course, but it wasn’t too hard once he got the hang of it. Your tip on visual cues helped him more than you realize. It really was all in the optics.

You clenched around his tongue every time his nose accidentally bumped your clit, so he started to do it more intentionally. When he focused on your sensitive button and pulsating cunt at the same time, your pussy dripped more honey on his tongue. You moaned louder for him too, begged for him outright.

“Eddie, please,” you whined. “Right there, Eddie.”

“Oh, your tongue feels so good, Eds.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

But just because it was easy didn’t mean it was effortless.

His tongue gets quickly tired from such fervent use. His jaw aches from the constant open-shut motion of the joint. His neck grows sore and stiff from its constant tilted position.

It makes it harder for him to touch you how he wants to — harder to make you feel as good as he needs to. So when your vocal moans turn into quieter whimpers, he parts from your pussy with a loud smack and gives his mouth a break.

You whine at the loss of him, immediately cold without his mouth covering you.

You’re crying out again the second he replaces his tongue with his thumb. He presses the pad of it to your clit — not rough, exactly, just eager and firm.

To be touched so ardently in a place so delicate feels like you’ve been dipped in scalding hot water. And, being that you’re more sensitive there than most tend to be, your body reacts accordingly to the suddenness of his touch. Your hips buck upward, legs closing on instinct.

Eddie’s in the line of fire for all of it.

“Shit, Eds,” you grimace when your knee smacks his jaw. You rise on one arm and use the other to caress his cheek. Your thumb rubs at the skin there in a futile attempt to soothe the ache. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” the boy answers with an immediate shake of his head. With his eyes still glassy and his tongue still tasting of you, he only wants to put his mouth on you again. Despite the distant throbbing in his jaw, he grins. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He had, of course. The dull feeling is ebbing. Slowly.

But it’s still okay.

Eddie turns his attention back to your pussy. His arms curl around your thighs again. Now that he’s not busy devouring you, he can see how wet you’ve gotten.

Honey leaks relentlessly from your pussy. He feels almost undeserving of the amount you give him. It darkens the sheets beneath you and clings to your skin like silk.

It’s lewd and sinful. Beautiful, still.

“Shit, babe,” Eddie sighs to himself. “You’re fucking— You’re dripping.”

You know you are. You can feel it. It trails slowly from your pulsating cunt to your ass and wets the sheets below you. You’re a little embarrassed, to have made such a mess without even orgasming.

He swears he sees you wince.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize,” Eddie directs with a practiced swiftness. “It’s hot. It’s... really fucking hot, okay? I mean, it’s like… Your pussy’s fucking drooling for me.”

You’re moaning at the vulgarity of his words before he ever puts his mouth on you.

It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to crescendo again. The distant orgasm looms nearer and nearer, like a storm cloud rolling in. You barely have time to realize you’re succumbing to the heavenly feeling before it’s already there.

“I’m about to come, Eds,” you manage to warn, half-slurring and already seeing stars.

Eddie answers with another low moan into your pussy.

He remembers what you told him, slides his mouth from your velvet walls and migrates to your clit. His mouth engulfs the sensitive button. He sucks it between his lips, flicking his tongue along the very peak of it.

And you? You were already long now. Now you feel like you might as well be in outer fucking space.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” you whine pathetically, trapped in the dense haze of immense pleasure.

You feel all of it and none of it, all at once. Your hips buck forward and backward, trying to chase the feeling and run away from it, too. You don’t realize it, but you’re all but grinding against Eddie’s mouth.

He can’t do a single damn thing but revel in it.

A distant part of his consciousness registers that his hips are rolling against your mattress. The thought is too far away to make him stop, though.

What was he supposed to do, anyway — when a pretty girl was making even prettier sounds for him, begging for him to keep making her feel good? It made him so hard it hurt.

Eddie grinds his stiff cock into your bed and tries to relieve the overwhelming pressure you and your lewd noises burden him with. He moans against you without thinking.

You figure he must be torturing you, using the vibrations as a weapon to make your orgasm that much more forceful. Really though, Eddie’s just coming in his pants for the second time since being with you.

His cock spurts several unforgiving loads into the cotton of his underwear. He buries his pitiful moans and whimpers into your pussy, hips still rocking through his high.

You come right along with him.

Your back arches, unintentionally pushing your cunt further into his mouth. “Fuck, Eddie—” you cry, high and fragile, as you drip more honey for him. Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan that leaves in another feeble whine a moment later.

And Eddie, never having been a man who knows his limits, has no idea when to stop.

He doesn’t particularly want to. He thinks he could probably eat your pussy forever, though the lingering ache in his jaw and neck begs to differ. The way you say his name when you come for him — over and over and over again — would make the pain worth it.

“Eddie—” you gasp for the hundredth or millionth time when his tongue swipes across your clit again. Your hips twitch at the sensitivity. You’re forced to pull him away by his hair.

You begin to laugh to yourself as your high slowly subsides. The breathy giggle that falls from your lips sounds delirious, almost, as your fuzzy brain comes down from the clouds again.

Eddie, just as incoherent as you, presses sloppy kisses to the insides of your thigh. His heavy eyes flutter open to find you smiling tiredly at the ceiling. “Good?” he wonders through labored breaths.

It’s a “Was that good for you?” as much as a “Are you back now?”

You trap your smile between your teeth as you nod.

Tilting your ear to your shoulder, you peer down the expanse of your body to where the wild-headed boy lies between your legs. His flushed cheek rests along your inner thigh. Your fingers dance through his curls.

“I might just make a professional out of you yet, Eddie Munson.”

A grin tugs slow at the edges of his swollen mouth.

He rises so he’s leaning over you again and doesn’t waste a second to start kissing you — the same way he’d been kissing your cunt moments ago. His rosy lips are still slick with you. You can taste the briny tang of your honey upon them.

Before you have time to acknowledge any of it, though, something sticky presses into your stomach. You blame yourself for it almost immediately. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve stained someone’s pants. A second later, you realize it couldn’t have been you. So it must have been Eddie.

The crotch of his pants is wet because he came in them.

“Eds,” you murmur into his kiss.

“Hm?” he hums and pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Did you… um…” you trail off, trying to find the best way to ask your question without sounding like you’re making fun of him.

You’ve noticed he tends to get a little self-conscious about these things — conversations that remind him that he’s mature but not at all experienced. You often approach the topic with caution. Likely the same way he does with you and subjects on promiscuity.

Eddie’s face twists further in confusion. It makes you wonder if he even noticed.

The flash of realization on his face is evident. As soon as his come cools and leaves the fabric of his underwear sticking to his skin, his eyes go wide and he jerks away from you. “Shit. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s fine,” you assure him quickly, chasing him as he sits up again. Your legs curl beneath you as Eddie’s hang over the mattress.

“No, it’s not,” he scoffs out a laugh. “It’s lame.”

You reach for his face and take his cheeks in your gentle hands to make him look at you. You meet his sheepish gaze with a softer smile. “It’s sexy,” you correct. “This isn’t even the first time you’ve done it. It’s not a big deal to me. You know that.”

“Yeah, it was lame then, too.”

Your smile widens as you shake your head at him.

It wouldn’t matter if you provided him an itemized list of everything he did that you found attractive — sexually or otherwise — he still wouldn’t believe you. He’d just laugh and say you were joking, probably find a way to make fun of you for it like he always does.

“You have a crush on me?” he’d tease. “That’s so gross…”

Rather than press the issue, you leave a chaste peck on his mouth.

“I’m gonna shower,” you say, still holding him. “Then we can go get breakfast or something.”

The smug smirk he gives you isn’t surprising.

“Ooh,” he hums. “A shower, huh? Sounds fun.”

“Alone.”

“Why?” he wonders with a pout.

“Because we’re adults and not a couple of teenagers. We’ve got better things to do than fuck like rabbits all day.”

You’re serious, for the most part. Even a slut’s got to have her own boundaries. You didn’t get the title by having sex every chance you could — not exactly, anyway. The art was in the chase. You get your prey clouded by lust until it’s all they can do not to fuck you. That’s when you strike.

It’s why you weren’t just a slut. You were the slut.

But still, there was more to your rejection, a deeper meaning to it you keep to your chest like playing cards out of pure embarrassment.

You don’t think you could keep your hands to yourself — not with Eddie’s bare body pressing against yours after bringing you to an orgasm that had you seeing stars with nothing but his mouth.

And you want so desperately to take things slow, to make all of his firsts special. You want to wait, but he makes it so damn hard.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you repeat and place a barely-there kiss to his lips before you go. You pluck your shirt from the floor and throw it haphazardly over your naked frame. “There’s some tissues on the dresser if you wanna clean up!” you shout from the hallway right before Eddie hears the bathroom door click shut.

You’re gone for twenty minutes.

The shower was far quicker than the more drawn-out ones you’re privy to, especially when you’ve got a pretty boy over. You don’t see the point in doing the whole routine now, anyway. Eddie had already seen you naked — tasted you, no less. It doesn’t make sense to care about stubbly legs and frizzy hair now.

When you return to the bedroom for fresh clothes, you find the boy lying in the center of your bed. He’s got Bowie on his belly and your basket of cassettes at his side. He slouches against the headboard and flips through them like index cards, occasionally humming to himself when he finds one he particularly likes.

There’s something really special about the sight before you. This beautiful boy with wild hair has made himself comfortable in your bedroom — amid all your pretty decorations and with your less-than-affectionate cat.

Eddie’s at home in your home. Like he’s always been there. Like he’ll never leave.

“I don’t know if you wanna shower or not, but I might have some t-shirts you can change into,” you tell him absentmindedly as you search through your drawers for something to wear. You rifle through the folded clothes with one hand, using the other to hold your towel to your chest.

You’re looking for something pretty but casual — something fitting for a day at home that’ll still make Eddie compliment you.

“But I don’t know if I have sweatpants…” you caution. “Or boxers.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s okay. I brought some extra clothes.”

He slips out of bed and tucks Bowie neatly back into the mattress. When he emerges from beneath the covers, you find he’s already changed. He’s still in the same shirt, but he’s wearing different underwear. They’re as baggy and thin as the ones he made a mess in, just a new shade of plaid.

“Oh,” you hum, smirking. “That is very presumptuous of you, sir.”

You hold the tank top and shorts you’d picked to your chest as Eddie walks the short distance to meet you. He rolls his eyes at your insinuation. “Not like that. I��m just… an idiot. And I don’t know how to pack… Also, I was nervous.

“Nervous?” you echo.

“Yeah,” he confesses, shifting his weight on his feet. Nervous, still. He grins to cover it. “First time spending the night alone with a pretty girl… I think that’s something pretty normal to be nervous about.”

You get it. You do. It’s not like you didn’t spend the entirety of your afternoon agonizing over all this the day before. You just hate that Eddie was nervous, too. That you hadn’t made him feel better.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, Eddie,” you promise.

“You don’t make me nervous. I make me nervous,” he corrects.

Your brows pinch together in confusion.

He explains. “‘Cause I wanna, like… Impress you and everything…”

You smile. Then nod. “You do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Every day,” you answer like it’s obvious. “You always give me something new to like.”

Eddie hopes his face isn’t as red-hot as it feels.

“What was it today then, huh?” he wonders with a teasing lilt as he takes one step closer to you. His chest rubs against the hands holding your clothes and towel. His fingers settle along your waist. “Or is it too early in the day to ask?”

“Your tongue,” you answer honestly, but with a seductive undertone — just to make him melt.

It works.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You finish getting ready in the bathroom.

The tank top you chose is simple and white ribbed — an easy four-quarters at the thrift store. The neck of it comes up too high to reveal much of your cleavage, but it clings to you like it was made to do it.

Your shorts are much of the same. Cheap. A little boring. They’re floral patterned and frilled at the bottoms. If you pull the top of them to your belly button, the edges of your ass threaten to poke out.

You’re feeding Bowie in the kitchen when Eddie returns from the bedroom. He’s dressed for the day in his usual attire — the thrifted concert merch and baggy jean duo. The all-black outfit matches the stormy weather outside. It’s quite the opposite of your brighter garb, though.

You don’t realize he’s there until he’s pressing himself against you, effectively pinning you against the counter. His arms wrap around your waist, embracing you almost, as he tucks his face into your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he mumbles into your skin.

You giggle as you fork cat food into Bowie’s bowl. “You’re so cuddly today.”

Eddie grins against your neck. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not! I just had to chase you all night because you refused to snuggle.”

Your use of the word snuggle makes him scoff. He parts from you and leans his hip against the counter beside you. “Sorry for the worst sleeper known to man. Sue me.”

You slide the calico her food and set the fork down with it as you turn to face the boy. You instantly notice he looks different from before but can’t quite gauge why. More of his face is visible than usual — the edges of his rosy cheeks and the pale points of his jaw.

It takes you several embarrassing moments to realize his hair is tied up.

He’s done a rather haphazard job of it. Several strands have been left out of the knot at the back of his head. It’s not entirely pulled through the tie either, so it’s in this vaguely shaped messy bun. You figure it was more to get his curls out of his face than anything remotely stylistic.

“…What?” he murmurs at your silent stare, head jutting slightly backward. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Sorry,” you apologize and shake your head out of its stupor. Your squeezed-shut eyes open again and twinkle when you smile. “It’s just… Your hair…”

Eddie hadn’t expected you to notice. He does it so often he forgets how different it makes him look.

Long curly hair was totally metal, but it was annoying. He usually keeps a hair tie in his bedroom for when it’s particularly bothersome. Being that he was without one now, he thought the pale pink scrunchie on your dresser would do the trick.

His pale hand instinctually darts to his head. He scratches at his hair, loosening the already slacked strands. “Yeah, I, uh… I used one of your hair ties,” he admits, embarrassed but unsure why. “I hope that’s… okay?”

“Of course, it’s okay,” you tell him, laughing. “I’ve just never seen you with your hair pulled back. It’s cute.”

It takes everything in him not to crumble when your hand rises to his face and combs through his hair. Your gentle fingers tuck a few ornery strands behind his ear, then rest on his jaw.

You’ve got a vague hint of a smile on your lips, one of wonderment almost, like you can’t believe he’s real. You look at him like he’s some beautiful thing you can’t believe managed to get more beautiful.

He loves it so much that he hates it. He needs it so much that he can’t help but shy away from it.

“Well, I’m nothing if not adorable,” he jests with a sheepish grin and tilts his reddened cheek towards his shoulder.

“Damn right…”

Eddie’s too slow in his shyness to meet you halfway like he typically would. It leaves you doing most of the work — standing taller to reach his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck to press more wholly against him. You smack a single kiss to his mouth and pull back to admire him with a smile.

His hands settle on your waist, at the very apex of your hips, where they always seem to gravitate. He kisses you this time in a longer, languid, more drawn-out thing. The constant locking and separating pattern of your lips persists through the sounds of rolling thunder and a cat lapping rather dramatically at her food.

Even as someone knocks at your door with several sharp raps, you’re less than enthusiastic to part from him.

Eddie separates from you when he realizes you aren’t planning to. “Do you wanna get that?” he asks, figuring you must not have heard it over the rain or the feeling of him.

“No. It’s probably nothing. They’ll leave,” you assure him quickly, desperate to feel him again.

Eddie, similarly longing, only nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans down to kiss you again.

The knocking returns. Louder now. A female voice accompanies it. “I don’t know if you’re asleep in there or something, but it’s fucking pouring out here! So if you could let me in, that’d be great!”

You part from Eddie suddenly, a tad bit aggressively, and without thinking twice.

It’s like a switch has been flipped within you, from indifference to immediate concern. You hear Eddie start a question — a trailed of “who’s…?” — but you’re out of the kitchen before he can finish it. You’re at the front door in a few quick strides, swinging it open before you realize you’re doing it.

It’s like muscle memory, almost. To come when you hear that voice calling.

Seeing Max Mayfield on your doorstep isn’t the most surprising thing in the world. It’s pretty expected, actually, but seeing her now — in the pouring rain, with nothing but her skateboard? You’d be a little impressed if you weren’t so shocked.

“What are you doing here?” you ask her, practically screeching, as she shoves past you and into your apartment. Her soaking wet Converse stomp into the living room. You can almost hear the subtle squelch of the damp soles.

“If I stayed on Cherry Lane for one more second, I was gonna go insane,” she spits as she toes off her sneakers.

“Did you… Did you skateboard all the way here?”

“Well, it’s not like I have a car, so…” she answers without really answering, flashing you an equally sardonic smile.

Amber strands hang from her two braids and cling to her freckled forehead. She tugs off the yellow raincoat that didn’t seem to do much of anything. Her t-shirt and jeans are drenched in splotches and sticking to her skin.

“It’s pouring outside, Max! That’s dangerous!”

“I didn’t die, so I’d say it’s fine.”

You sigh to yourself — a deep exhale that deflates your chest.

Max Mayfield is a spitfire. Everyone knows that. Sarcasm is quite literally her love language. When she’s mean to you, it’s because she likes you. She only gets really snappy like this on occasion.

Derision becomes her shield. Being hurtful is the only way she knows to keep people at arm’s length. So, when something’s really wrong, and she’s at your front door in the pouring rain, it’s easier for her to be closefisted than actually ask for help.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs.

You send her a knowing look. A no one skateboards halfway across town in the rain for nothing kind of look.

“It’s just my brother,” she caves in a huff. “It’s always my brother. I don’t even know why you bother asking at this point.”

Your fists clench at your sides. “What’d he do now?”

“It’s my stepdad, mostly. They just… fight. Like, all the time— a lot more than they used to, and you know how bad they used to,” Max explains, halfway rambling, as she paces with socked feet along your living room carpet. She gesticulates wildly as she continues. “I don’t even know what they’re arguing over now. I’m not even sure they know, but my mom refuses to do anything about it, and I’m pretty sure Billy would kill me if I tried to, so…”

The girl trails off with a shrug and stops pacing to face you again. The nails on her left hand pick at the skin of the pointer finger on her right.

Your concerned gaze makes her cower.

“I just can’t stand the yelling, and my walkman only turns up so loud, you know?”

“Color?” you ask her.

To Eddie, who’s hearing all this from the kitchen, it sounds quite vague. Almost purposefully vague. He’s got no idea what it’s supposed to mean, but Max answers so suddenly it’s clear to him that both of you know.

“Before I left? Orange. But... if Billy didn’t leave before I did… red,” the girl agonizes with ocean eyes wide in apprehension. “Like, bright red. Fucking blood red— whatever the darkest shade of red is, it’s that one.”

Eddie decides to make himself known then. He leans against the doorway that connects the kitchen and the living room. “Crimson?” he offers, then corrects himself. “Or, no, maybe scarlet… I don’t know the difference between them, actually.”

Max falls eerily silent. Her head darts over her shoulder at the sound of the familiar voice. She’s less surprised to find someone else in the apartment than she is to know that, out of anyone in the world it could have been, it’s Eddie fucking Munson.

She turns back to you, pale face and auburn brows contorted in confusion. She jerks her thumb in the boy’s direction. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“He stayed the night,” you shrug.

“You let Lucas’ weird new friend spend the night?”

“Wow, Red,” Eddie laughs behind her. “I thought we’d be on a first-name basis by now.”

You shift your weight on your feet and try to swallow down any lingering nerves. You know you shouldn’t be this concerned about losing cool points to a fourteen-year-old, but Max is different. Max is cool. Way cooler than you are.

“Well, we’re dating, so…”

“You’re dating Lucas’ weird new friend now?” she gapes.

“His name is Eddie, Maxine,” you argue, full-naming her because you know how much she hates it. You walk past the girl dripping all over your carpet and head towards the hallway for a towel and fresh clothes. “And he’s standing right there, so you could be a little nicer.”

“Yeah, I’m sensitive, Maxine,” Eddie teases. He brings a hand to his chest to feign offense as he inches toward her. “Wait to talk shit about me when I’m out of earshot, yeah?”

Max squints at him. “Well, this is my safe space, Lucas’ weird new friend, so don’t hog it, alright?”

“Funny you say that because I’m pretty sure only one of us was invited here,” Eddie retorts.

You emerge from the hallway then with a towel and spare clothes.

“And none of you pay rent, which makes it even funnier,” you quip to quell the petty banter and hand Max the fresh linens. “Here. Get changed. Take a shower if you want. Me and Eddie were about to get breakfast.”

The redhead falters at the act of kindness. She still isn’t quite used to it — the way you help her without thinking twice. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and she knows it won’t be the last. But still, it’s hard to accept.

“Thanks,” she wavers and tries her best to smile. It looks more like a wince than anything else.

She slinks off down the hall. You hear Bowie’s paws hit the floor in a muffled thud as she hops off the counter to follow her.

Eddie waits until he hears the bathroom door click shut to turn to you, more serious than he had been before. “Um, so… What was that, exactly?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “She just stops by sometimes when her brother is bothering her.”

He nods though he’s still sort of confused. He crosses his arms over his chest and furrows his brows. “And the colors…?”

“It’s easier for her to describe the fights by what color they felt like. Blue is the sad fights, green is the stupid fights, orange is right before they get bad, and red is when they do get bad,” you explain, then huff. “Black is… the worst one. They’re the fights you don’t come back from.”

You’ve only seen one code black before. That night at Steve’s — that one was black. The night progressed, and it only got darker. It became a shade that swallowed all the colors surrounding it — a black hole.

Black is the kind of fights that change you. The fights that stick with you forever. The fights you can’t forgive and can’t forget.

“Oh. Shit,” Eddie mutters to himself. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes flitting between you and the empty hallway. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He wants to comfort you — the both of you — but he’s got no idea how. “Should I… Should I, like, go?”

You want to tell him no.

You want to tell him that you need him there, that you don’t want him to be far away again, that he might actually help. But you know Max. She puts up a wall with you, and you’ve known her for years. There’s no way she’ll talk to you with Lucas’ weird new friend around.

“If you wanna go get breakfast or something, that’d be really cool,” you answer sheepishly, scrunched face like you’re scared you might hurt his feelings. You inch closer to him, arms wrapped around yourself, as you explain. “I wanna get her to talk and everything, and… she might not if you’re around… ‘M sorry.”

Your shy gaze is met with a grin. He shrugs. “Hey. It’s okay. I can take my van and get us something to eat. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Like Max, you try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Eds.”

You kiss him before he leaves. A brief peck to his cheek that doesn’t even mean anything. Your lips brush his lower jaw so softly that he barely feels it, but it takes him by surprise anyway. Not because you’re kissing him, exactly, but because it’s so strangely domestic.

Eddie’s pretty sure no one’s kissed him goodbye since he was five.

It’s the little things — those mundane, innocent, and slightly stupid things — that he never missed because he’d gone without them for so long. But you’re reminding him now what it means to be cared for, telling him in your way that he’ll never have to be without them again.

His fingertips are buzzing when he leaves your apartment.

He’s certain he’ll get struck by lightning before he gets back.

Eddie stays gone for thirty minutes, and you spend that entire time trying to get Max to talk. It’s a more difficult feat than you initially thought. She’s got a sarcastic remark for each of your questions.

“It’s not just nothing, Max!”

“It’s no different than code green!” she argues, sitting below you on the couch in one of your oversized tees. “I just don’t wanna listen to them argue. It’s not like I’m… scared. Or whatever.”

“It’s okay if you are scared, though. You know that, right?”

“Well, I just said I’m not, so…”

One stern look from you, and she breaks.

“I’m always scared, okay?” she bursts. “Even when they’re just talking, I’m fucking terrified because I’m waiting for everything to blow up again. And I— I fucking hate living like that, so I left. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The only thing you know to do is ask her if she wants to get Hopper involved. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked to her stepdad, least of all Billy.

Her answer is a balanced and very nuanced — “Fuck no.”

She’s only comforted by your offer to let her spend a few nights at your place and an invitation to your yearly spring break trip to Lake Lemon — only on the condition that her mom is alright with it.

You know it’ll bite you in the ass eventually. The vacation was just supposed to be you, Robin, and Steve, after all. You figure they’ll understand why you inevitably had to invite Max and all her high school friends when you tell them your hands were tied. Besides, Steve Harrington was the best babysitter around. He could watch over a few teenagers for a weekend.

When Eddie returns, he comes with a paper sack of biscuits and a “Honey, I’m home!”

Bowie is the only one not rolling her eyes at the cliche announcement.

“I didn’t know what you guys wanted, so I just got, like… everything,” the boy explains while the two of you dig ravenously into the bag.

You’re a lot less glum than when he left. Especially Max. She’s smiling now — cracking jokes about Eddie’s wet hair and how it makes him look more like a poodle than usual— in between feeding Bowie spare sandwich crumbs.

She even thanks him, a week and monotoned expression of gratitude, more spurred on by a look from you than anything else.

“Thanks, Lucas’ weird new friend…”

He’ll take it. He’s just happy the storm’s clearing up.

“No problem, Red. Glad I could be of service.”

He means it in the most literal sense.

Eddie’s happy to have helped in some way, even if it doesn’t feel like much. You and this strange redheaded girl are getting full on food he bought specifically for the both of you, and something about that thought is very distinctly warming. You laugh over two dollar sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuits, talking so loudly it makes it almost impossible for him to get a word in edgewise, but he doesn’t even care.

The clumsy boy who can never seem to do anything right is just happy that he’s finally done some good.

It is a bit weird, though — having to share you. He watches you give all your attention to Max, and a childlike sort of misplaced jealousy simmers within him.

Like usual, you’re totally selfless. You let Max choose the movie and the food you eat with it later that evening. Instead of the typical Star Wars trilogy Eddie often picks, you end up watching Karate Kid. He’s forced to go without his usual hot-sauce-chocolate-syrup-popcorn concoction because Max insists on making nachos.

They’re good. They’re great, even. But Eddie’s too busy sulking to enjoy them because you’re sharing a blanket with Max instead of him. You sit on the couch together while he’s banished to the recliner across the room.

Bowie’s good enough company, but she’s certainly no replacement for you.

Eddie doesn’t get you to himself until the movie’s over.

You make a semi-comfortable bed for Max on the couch, complete with all the spare pillows and blankets you could find. You tuck her in like a parent would their child — just to hear her laugh as she swats you away — then make Bowie promise to watch over her for the night. You don’t come to bed until you’ve checked on them both five separate times.

Eddie makes no complaint when you finally settle in next to him.

There is no half-joke or sarcastic quip waiting for you — just a warm arm he wraps intently around your middle to pull you closer to his chest.

Because he gets it, why you dropped everything to help Max. He would’ve done the same for Dustin. He has done the same for Dustin. And with the way you so effortlessly take care of him every other day of the week, Eddie can’t blame you for doing the same for someone else.

He’d be an idiot to be angry at how kind you are.

He’s just grateful to have you now — grateful to have you at all — even if it is only to sleep.

The both of you have just finally dozed on when your phone starts to ring. The repeated chime sounds so much louder in the quiet. It’s suffocating, almost, in the darkness of your bedroom.

Eddie stirs first. He finds himself on the other side of your bed, turned away from you entirely, and with the covers to himself.

You don’t seem to mind too much, too sleepy to care. You’re on your belly, face smushed into the pillow, with one leg hiked. Your sleep shirt has risen up your spine to reveal the black cotton panties you wear underneath.

You groan at the intrusion on your slumber.

“Who is it?” Eddie groans, slurred with sleep.

“Robin,” you grumble as you flip to your other side.

He doesn’t ask how you know that.

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut, totally against your will, forcing you to reach blindly for the ringing phone. When your fingers finally wrap around the plastic, you bring it to your ear. The curled wire is cool against your chin.

“What?” you slur into the receiver.

“Well, it’s good to hear your voice, too,” Robin quips on the other line. She sounds too chipper for so late into the night.

“Why are you calling me? It’s almost midnight.”

“I’ve been waiting to call you forever, but Keith wouldn’t quit hogging the phone!” She sounds like she’s shouting that last bit over at the man himself. She turns to the phone again, quieter this time. “I don’t even know who he was calling. It’s not like he has any friends.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re still at work?”

“Yep. Inventory. Graveyard shift. We’re getting overtime, but it’s totally not worth it.”

“So you called ‘cause you were bored?”

“No,” she insists in a scoff. “Well, I am, but I thought I should tell you that Billy came by before closing.”

That wakes you up immediately.

The name in itself is an adrenaline rush.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and your heart’s beating like you’ve just run a marathon.

“He what?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was just asking for Max — said she ran away or something. He’s probably making the rounds looking for her, but… He asked about you…”

“What do you mean?” you ask and try not to sound too panicked.

“I don’t know if he thought she was with you or if you might’ve been in the back— I don’t know,” Robin rambles, voice distant like she’s multitasking between talking and working. “He wanted to know where you were.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you were out of the country.”

Despite your alarm, her answer makes you laugh. Robin was always good at that. Making jokes to distract people from their problems was her specialty. It takes you a moment to realize she isn’t laughing with you, though, and you wonder if it was a joke at all.

“Wait, seriously?”

“I didn’t know what else to say!” she defends half-heartedly. “I was just scared he might’ve come by your place.”

“Well, he hasn’t… Not that I know of.”

The thought of Billy Hargrove often looms over you. He was like your own personal storm cloud. Even with the real storm long gone, you hear thunder roll over your head and rumble down your spine.

“Maybe he just gave up,” Robin lilts optimistically.

You know Billy doesn’t know how to, though. For him, it’s win or die trying.

“Maybe…” you waver anyway. “Is Steve there?”

“Yeah— say ‘hi’ Steve!” After a second or more of silence, you hear the boy himself groan a distant and obviously exhausted greeting in return. Robin’s voice follows. “Sorry. He’s grumpy.”

“Why?” you laugh.

“He sorta told Billy off when he came by. Keith got pissed,” she summarizes, the mocks her manager’s monotoned drawl. “‘You’re not allowed to talk to customers that way, Harrington. Even if they are raging douchebags.’”

You smile to yourself. There’s something warming about Steve defending you even when you’re not around to see it. He’s sticking to his word without needing to be rewarded for it.

“Tell him I think he’s very brave,” you joke.

“She wants you to know that she thinks you’re very brave, Stevie,” Robin tells him.

Steve grumbles a faraway thanks.

“Are you guys working tomorrow?

“Yep,” Robin answers, popping the p. Her words are dripping with venom. “Morning shift. Nine o’clock sharp.”

“Maybe I can come by then,” you offer.

“Get your personal P.I to keep tabs on Billy in the meantime. You know, just in case.”

“You say that like he’s a serial killer.”

“You never know! He could be our very own Ted Bundy.”

“—Also, Hopper is not my personal P.I.,” you laugh when her words finally dawn on you.

“He totally is, but… whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes with a distant smile on your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rob.”

“Sweet dreams… Since I’m not getting any tonight, apparently,” she speaks too sweetly into the receiver. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most!”

You sit the phone back on the hook. It takes a few tries because you’re still sort of sleepy and less than coordinated. The quiet room fills with the rattled sounds of your repeated failures. You succeed on the fourth try.

You turn back around and find Eddie awake, too. His curls are wild — umber strands dancing in a halo on his head and on the pillow. His eyes are a darker chocolate from sleep, honeyed and heavy.

His brows pinch together. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you answer, more focused on getting comfortable again. “It’s just… girl troubles.”

“You people are full of that these days,” Eddie scoffs through his exhaustion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s having girl troubles,” he elaborates. “Robin, Dustin, Mike, Lucas. Probably Steve, too, because he’s Steve.”

“Lucas?” you echo, distantly concerned because his girl troubles aren’t just girl troubles — they’re Max troubles. “What’s going on with Lucas?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head against the pillow. “I don’t know. Something with Max, I guess. He won’t talk about it.”

“How do you know Max?” you change the subject with a soft smile. “Where’d the nickname come from?”

“I don’t really know her. She just hung around with Lucas a lot. For a while, I think I really was his weird new friend to her. Like, after the first couple days of school, those kids were practically glued to me, you know?” he explains with a reminiscent grin. “I think they just liked having someone older too… I don’t know… Protect them, I guess?”

“That’s sweet,” you gush — tired and in love.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah. I’m a real hero, sweetheart.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m… I’m not a hero,” he rejects quietly, with a quieter smile. “In D&D, you know, maybe. But in real life? I’m a total coward.”

You shift closer to him until you’re sharing the same pillow. When you settle again, your noses are nearly brushing and your breaths are intermingling. You lift your hand from the blankets and rest it on his cheek, smoothing your thumb over the apple of it.

“Well, it takes a lot of bravery to admit to cowardice,” you counter in a lilt.

“I guess so…”

“And I think if it really came down to it, and you really had to fight for something, you could do it,” you tell him with a sparkle in your drowsy gaze. Your eyes flit between the both of his deep outer space ones. “Even if you were scared.”

You believe it, even if he can’t. You know Eddie could be brave in the face of something frightening, as much as you know that you couldn’t be. It’s why you’ve still got this black and ponderous storm cloud hanging over you. Since you can’t do it — be brave — you hope Eddie could be that for you instead.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in me, sweetheart,” Eddie quips and tries to swallow down the emotion swelling in his chest like so many rays of sunshine.

“Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti,” you nod in the place of any joke you could’ve responded with. “I do.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader

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pholla-jm · 7 months

Text

Sleepover

IMAGINE: SLEEPOVER ~ MEGUMI X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: NONE *********************

You have known Megumi since the both of you were kids. You literally did everything together. You walked to school and back home together. You would go over to his place to play and vice versa. Even shared the same plates sometimes. There were also nights where he slept over at your house.

You were there when he met Gojo. Which you thought he was some type of pedophile trying to take Megumi. You tried fighting him off, but what can a five year old do to a seventeen year old? Not much. He simply stopped your feeble attacks by lifting you up by the back of your shirt and holding you up.

“You really need this tiny thing to protect you?” “At least I’m not some creep trying to pick up kids!” You shout at him causing you to give you a shocked and disgusted look. “Huh?! I’m not some creep!”

“Ewe, what’s with your face?” Megumi says with an uninterested look.

And the rest was history.

Now you both attended Jujutsu High. Even though both of you got busy with studying and training, you still found time to spend time together.

That’s why you were gathering a plethora of movies, snacks and drinks. A recipe for a perfect movie night. Putting all the stuff in a big bag, you make your way towards Megumi’s dorm room. You knew he would be in there anyway. He never leaves his room because he likes to be an edgy teenage boy… those are your words that you told him. Megumi wasn’t the happiest once you told him that.

Once you were facing the beige door, you loudly knocked on his door. It didn’t take long for him to swing the door open, an unamused look on his face. “Do you have to knock so loudly?” “Yup.” You answer while pushing your way into his room.

It was clean and tidy, like always.

“Yeah, sure, come on in.” He mutters. “Thanks.”

You turn to him, noticing the comfy clothes he was wearing. Some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“We’re having a movie night.” You say while swinging the backpack off your shoulders. Megumi only sighs, deciding not to argue about your plans. Plus, he wouldn’t dare pass up the chance to spend time with you.

“Which one do you want to watch first?” You ask, holding up the brought over movies. His eyes scan over the movie choices, immediately noticing that there was no pattern to it. It was from all different genres; horror, romance, comedy, thriller, and mystery.

He chose the safest option- horror.

Cliche right?

Well he thought it through. He didn’t want to watch a mystery because he didn’t want you to keep asking him questions about the movie. Not thriller, because you would get bored easily, and not romance because he didn’t want the atmosphere to get weird. Well, weird for him at least. So the best option would be horror, because he knew that you would move a little closer to him. Then after the movie would be over, you would want to watch something more uplifting so you could erase any of the horror movie from your memory.

You gave him a look, “you must like seeing me suffer.” He shrugs, “I’m just paying you back.”

He plucks the movie from your hand and walks over to the DVD player. A gasp leaves your lips as you look at him with a faux shocked look. “How dare you.” Megumi just rolls his eyes at your dramatics.

“What else did you bring?” He asks. “I’m glad you asked,” you say while dumping out the rest of the contents in your bag. He eyes the plethora of unhealthy snacks and drinks, “we’re going to get diabetes.” “Nu-uh. Not if we eat healthy and do some serious cleansing for the next week.”

“Right.” He says while picking up his favorite snack and drink, “we’re not eating on my bed.” “Fine.” You say not arguing with him, you knew how annoying it could be having crumbs in the bed. You plop yourself on his desk, while he sits in the chair.

Megumi reaches for the remote, turning the TV on and pressing play on the movie.

You quickly finish your snack, wanting to be in the comfort of Megumi’s bed. The movie wasn’t actually scary, it was just gory with a lot of jump scares and screaming. It was more of the loud noise that scared you.

“You scared?” Megumi teases while throwing the wrappers away before joining you in his bed. “Tch, as if.”

A loud noise came from the TV causing you to jump a little and grab onto the blanket tighter. You sink deeper into the bed, hoping to hide a little bit of your view of the TV.

Megumi chuckles as you scoot closer to him. He immediately felt your body warmth reaching him, and it made him crave more. So he decides to scoot closer himself, shoulders now touching. You didn’t seem to notice.

Once the movie was finally over, you were able to relax. “That was horrible. I need to watch something to make me forget about this.” You say getting up to grab the comedy movie.

A small frown makes its way to Megumi’s face. He started to miss the warmth of your skin pressed against his. Once you plop the movie into the DVD player, you jump into the bed with a large smile on your face.

Your body was now more relaxed as the bright and funny film started playing. You get comfortable in the blankets, leaning back against the headboard. Your arm was no longer touching Megumi’s arm. Which he wished you would just move a little bit closer to him so he could feel more of your warmth. He was too afraid to initiate it himself, scared that you would just move farther away.

About half way through the movie, you started to feel sleepy. Your eyelids closing without your consent. Before you knew it, your eyelids completely closed and you were sleeping. Your head fell to the side, landing on Megumi’s shoulder.

He looks over at you, a little surprised to see that you were asleep. His attention wasn’t on the movie anymore. Instead, he studied your face. You looked at peace, with your lips slightly parted and even breathes coming from your nose. Small pieces of your hair frame your face and Megumi swears you never looked so beautiful.

He adjusted himself, so that he wasn’t leaning against the headboard anymore. Instead, he was laying down. The new position causes you to fall as well. But it didn’t disturb your sleep. Instead you scoot closer to Megumi, attracted to his own warmth. Megumi doesn’t know what came over him, but his arms wrapped around you. Pulling you impossibly closer. Your head now laying on his chest, an arm and a leg thrown over him.

His body started to relax at the feeling of your warmth and the scent of your lotion. His eyelids started to feel heavy as well, but he didn’t fight off the sleep that took over his body.

Small smiles painted both of your faces as the movie continued to play in the background. Both now in a wonderful dreamland.

#oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro x reader

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blackopals-world · 2 years

Note

Could I have part 4 for The Way to A Man's Heart series with Riddle, Trey, Cater, Jack, and Kalim?

~Oh boy, this Au is getting bigger and bigger. God help me. Come eat you filthy animals~

"The Way to a Man's Heart" (part 4)

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Notes:I spent a day on this. It's not proof read.

Riddle

I was confused on what to do for him to first but inspiration struck like lightning. This is way too long so if you like Riddle come get yall food.~

Yuu loved tea parties. She had thrown her fair share in her homeland with different themes and styles. With her talent for cooking and knowledge of many cultures she was booked to host events as a host and caterer just like her mom and dad. It was her pride and joy.

But cooking for her friends seemed to be enough. Until it wasn't.

For the past few days she had begun putting ideas in Riddle's head about hosting her own party.

She needed participants for this specific tea party but the problem was it required people who stuck to the rules. No other dorm could be as complaint as Heartslabyul expect maybe Draconia or Pomefiore but they might be too perfect if that makes sense. In reality Yuu just wanted to see Ace and Deuce suffer.

Riddle of course was very enthusiastic about party and added it to the schedule and making attendance mandatory.

Yuu couldn't help smirking knowing just how strict she was going to be.

The following Saturday Yuu rolled out tatami mats on the Ramshackle lawn. She had planted a few trees with help from Malleus and Leona for the event. Sakura trees that had a spell to keep them in bloom. Everything must be set up perfectly.

The Heartslabyul boys showed up at exactly 11:30 as instructed. Each had to wear traditional hakama.

Riddle had trouble following instructions for once. Yuu had specified that their attire be undecorated or plain. It could be colored but not bright or flashy so no red. When he had asked Yuu about it she made quite the face, one he imagined he had made many times at rule breakers.

"Red, is unacceptable. What? Are you getting married or showing off? It's not permitted to wear that unless your the host or a royal. Even then it's unseemly. This is a formal party Riddle not a informal tea." Yuu sounded unlike her usual soft and endearing self. Every word was deliberate and pointed. She took this seriously.

Riddle felt a bit chastised himself. He found that he wanted to follow her directions to the letter because of just how fervent she was. They had something in common now that she was making the rules and he had to forget his own to follow her's.

The group arrived in muted colors with minimal patterns but very well made. Of course they looked rather out of place in Ace, Cater and Riddle's case due to the ban on red. Cater chose yellow, Ace got orange and Riddle had pink. Trey had olive and Deuce had on navy blue.

Grim answered the door with a red and white rope tied around his neck and a gold bell that rang as he walked. He wasn't happy about the bell but he didn't make the rules.

Speaking of rules Grim was ordered to invite everyone inside. Shoes had to be removed and any unneeded items put away. Grim pointed to the scroll on the wall for everyone to read.

Riddle remembered that the scroll depicts the theme of the party.

He couldn't read the symbol on it. Why did she writing in another language?

Everyone took a seat as Grim rolled out a little cart with cups of tea on it. It was rather adorable as the cat served tea to the best of his ability. Yuu must had taught him. Grim was rather proud of himself as he explained that he chose this tea and made it himself.

Cater took plenty of pictures of the cat acting like a little butler. Grim was made into a meme by the magicam community instantly.

Riddle was very impressed as Grim told the group that the first tea was Sakurayu. A tea made from cherry blossoms pickled in plum vinegar though he chose to fargo salt in the process do to the aftertaste except in Carter's case.

It was a very different to the tea Riddle usually drank but it was very good. The blossoms unfurled in the hot water making a beautiful display. Everyone seemed to enjoy it but Ace and Deuce didn't have a taste for tea.

The group had to wait for Yuu's arrival as she entered wearing a pink kimono with a white obi and haired tied neatly an updo with cherry blossom tasseled hair sticks placed into her hair.

She greeted everything in a formal bow and made sure everyone in turn bowed as well. When Ace messed up and didn't bow properly at the waist a paper fan wacked him on the shoulder.

"Ace, try again." Yuu said with a smile but her eyes where clearly issuing a threat.

Yeah, Yuu and Riddle are alot alike.

Riddle in turn didn't say a word as. She watched her in astonishment.

Yuu instructed everyone to go outside to use the tsukubai to ritually wash their hands and mouths out before entering the tea garden.

Trey believed that every tea should begin like this. Everyone else but Riddle found it tedious.

Soon enough Grim escorted everyone outside to the garden to wait for the ceremony to begin.

Each of them had to sit in order of prestige. Riddle was seated first closest to the head followed by Trey, Cater, Deuce, and Ace. Ace complain about going last, but Deuce is still older by two months.

Ace began complaining about having to sit uncomfortably in seiza-style. Everyone was uncomfortable but Ace at least said it.

Riddle wouldn't dare admit his discomfort especially so early in the event. This was traditional and Yuu expectations were high. If he failed to meet her standards how could he expect her to meet his. If he can't do something so simple, she'd never trust his judgment again.

The event officially began with the audible closing of the door to the garden and Yuu entering and sitting down last.

"You guys are doing well. Seiza takes alot of practice. Your blood flow should improve overtime to make it easier." Yuu smiled as she turned down the outdoor burner for the water boiler. She neglected to mention how seiza isn't practice the same way since the Japanese government recognized it as a form of punishment considering the pain it caused. But her part her rules. "I hope you guys remember the ceremony takes about 4 hours to complete."

The audible groans that came from the group where hilarious. Yuu believed that the Riddle could use the humbling seeing the stained expression on his face.

"I don't know if I can do it." Deuce said, his face downcast and his teal puppy dog eyes on full display "I'm sorry, Yuu."

Her heart wasn't made of stone and Deuce her poor dumb-dumb was her her weakness.

"If that's the case we have seiza stools for you. It'll look like your sitting in position while taking the weight and stress of your legs." Yuu said giving in.

The boys took the offer, even Riddle knowing he wasn't expected to sit unassisted for 4 hours. He face was red with embarrassment when her noticed Yuu didn't need the aid of a stool.

As it was custom Riddle was promoted to ask questions about the ceremony for the group. The questions were written by Yuu before hand to help Riddle.

"What was the meaning of the scroll?" He asked.

"The theme is cherry blossom viewing. I thought it was best to be held outside." She answered in a rehearsed manor.

"What have you prepared?" He asked again.

"We shall begin with a meal with a watered down plum sake reserved for festivals. It's not strong enough to get drunk off of unless you have an entire bottle. Then we will take a break for a walk or play games. After that the tea ceremony begins. After we can go back to more casual fun." She said casual in an a different manor. She had plans.

After that Yuu presented the meal she had made. The meal served stared with a simple miso soup, rice, and salmon sashimi.

Ace and Deuce ate greedily with Grim and only stopped when Yuu gave them the evil eye. They reluctantly slowed down so they didn't suffocate on their food.

Cater was posting pictures of the food and laughed when the only pictures Vil would like had Yuu in them. Jealous much?

Trey feigned any acknowledgement of his surroundings as he enjoyed the scenery food. Truly an unbothered king.

Riddle fumbled with his chopsticks trying to pick up the fish before a helpful hand folded over his.

"Hold it like this." Yuu said her head over his shoulder and her cheek brushing against his. She moved his fingers into the right position and showed him how to pick up the fish. Before finishing her demonstration she pinched the fish between the wooden sticks and moved them to Riddle's mouth, feeding the headwarden the soy sauce soaked food.

Riddle turned ten shade of red as she pulled away.

Carter watch slack jawed as he dropped his chopsticks.

"Yuu? Can you help? I don't know how to use these." Cater whined calling for her.

Jealous much?

The next dishes where served with a nishime soup with bamboo shoot, lotus shoot and shiitake mushrooms. It was served with pork filled gyoza.

The first year boys loved the dumplings but didn't want to touch the veggie soup until Trey snapped out of revelry and eyed them both. Cater was also picky but knew he should just eat it.

Riddle actually liked the soup, it had a good soy sauce and sake based stock.

After everyone was already getting full, Yuu served dessert. Wagashi. It was a sweet made from mochi, sweet bean paste, and fruits.

Riddle found his favorite food so far and loved the taste of the floral peach.

Trey was in a similar boat and asked for her recipe. Yuu was happy to share as the made plans to make and serve more of these.

Yuu called for a break as everyone had to rest after such a meal. Full and satisfied they walked about viewing the flowers. Riddle took note of how well he and Yuu matched while standing under the cherry tree. A literal cherry tree not the cherry blossom trees.

Yuu showed the boys a few of the old games played during these event. Haiku writing, scripture reciting, origami, music, and dancing.

They didn't know that Yuu could do more then cook, she was actually good at playing the harp of all things and singing.

Trey was really good at tea ceremonies apparently. He truly understood its purpose. Distressing from everyday live and enjoying peace and tranquility. He had grown past simple earthly desires and was in touch with his innermost self and was finding the answer to who he was as a person.

"Okay, someone go get Trey. He's been staring up into the trees for way too long." Yuu said to Carter while watching Trey from a distance.

Trey's journey of enlightening had to end before he accidentally achieved nirvana after eating a bean bun. Honestly, what did Yuu put in that thing?

Yuu refocused on her flower arrangement preparing the actual ceremony. When she finish she rang a bell to signal the boys to come back and sit after washing up again.

Yuu began serving the tea as she poured the Macha power and water and whisked it into thick tea. This is where the rules must be followed to the letter.

Yuu movement must be precise as she prepared and poured the tea. Then she poured the tea into a bowl and bowed to Riddle who in turn bowed to her. He then raised the bowl in respect to her as a host.

He took a sip of the herble mix and complimented her tea as he wiped the rim before passing the bowl to Trey who did the same. On and on they all had to to it. Ace once again complained avout everyone elses lips touching the bowl causing a paper fan to go flying for his forehead this time. Yuu wasn't letting him get way with that one.

The formal part of the tea was just about over as Yuu removes the formal equipment and makes several cups of thin green tea to enjoy with light sakura cakes. She let the boys relax and recalin on the pillow cushions now.

"I was fun right?" She asked as they talked and drank.

"It was scary." Ace said rubbing his red forehead.

"I liked it." Deuce said wolfing down a cake. "The food is really good"

"I got so many pictures. The other dorms are practically green with envy." Cater smiled wickedly as he scrolled through the comment section. Vil was still being petty, and now Neige was paying attention.◇Drama!◇

Trey was still heading for inner peace so he was having a good time. Actually Yuu checked the sake and his might of been stronger then intended. He might actually be a super lightweight and is currently sloshed.

Riddle was sleepy after a big meal and all the activities. He leaned his head on Yuu's shoulder and dozed off. Her kimono was really soft and she smelled like fruit and flowers.

It wasn't exactly what Yuu imagined when she threw this party. She had intended to give Riddle a taste of his own medicine but seeing everyone even somewhat enjoyed the event was fun. It wasn't for everyone, at least not Ace who was the only one to complain. With a few changes here and there the others could really like this. Unfortunately, Yuu wasn't going to just change everything for westerners. Tradition was tradition and she already compromised enough.

She waved them off in the evening as she praised Grim for doing so well today. Trey and Riddle had to be carried back.

Trey

Trey recovered pretty well after the tea party. He thankfully didn't get sent to the heavens after achieving the 6th sense and becoming God.

They still had plans to cook desserts together. Yuu came over to the dorm with a bag full off something special.

She gleefully placed it on the counter as Trey eyed her with suspiciously.

"Guess what I got?" She said in a sing song voice.

"Something you want us to cook I'm guessing." Trey answered attempting to peer in the bag.

"Well yes, but that's not what I asked." Yuu pouted as she scooped up the bag to keep it away from Trey.

Trey wasn't going to play her game so he when back to making tarts as Yuu realized she wasn't getting anything out of him.

Trrreeeeyyyyy!" She whined as she pulled on Trey's apron.

Trey ignored her as he stirred the raspberry jam filling. When Yuu continued to whine he reached over to pat her head like a toddler who was demanding attention. Yuu reluctantly gave in and showed Trey the ingredient.

It was Hakuhou peaches. They were a top of the line peach known for its sweet, floral taste and soft texture. It made great treats.

Trey cut up slices to try so he could best see how to cook it.

Yuu showed him her recipe for peach tarts and the intended crowning dish for the day, peach flan.

Flan was difficult to get right, the consistency was hard to get right, the glaze must be glassy and just thick enough. The bigger the mold the harder to get it out with it falling apart.

Of course Yuu used a big mold and got it out without trouble.

"Oh my God, fuck you. Of course you did it perfectly the first try." Trey said exasperated with no real heat. Yuu laughed as he pouted now.

Yuu cut a slice of the flan and offered it to Trey to eat. Trey feigned reluctance and took a bite.

"It's really good." He sighed.

Yuu gently encouraged him as he took a napkin and wiped the caramel from the side of Trey's face.

"We can try something different."

Cater

Cater was a spice hound and was foolish enough to challenge Yuu. His idea was to do a live video of him trying Yuu's spiciest dish from her homeworld in a bid to make a new internet challenge.

Yuu almost immediately told Carter no. He wasn't ready for that. Cater wasn't listening though and insisted. He eventually wore her down and live on the air she placed a bowl of black dried ghost pepper noodles.

She advised him to be careful so he doesn't burn a hole in his stomach. She went easy on him by removing the seeds from the pepper for his own good.

"Thanks to our lovely chef Yuu, we have the best possible food for our challenge made hot and fresh. " Cater said pulling Yuu into frame why the hip. Because the camera perspective was at Cater level while sitting the audience couldn't see above Yuu's bust.

The viewers didn't mind as the made comments about wanting her "hot and fresh."

"Well that's enough fan service. Let's eat!" He said grabbing his chopsticks.

It went downhill fast as tears where shed and his nose was running. This didn't stop him because he wouldn't stop eating because it was, too good.

At some point Yuu took the bowl away and gave Cater a glass a milk. He was in too much pain to be cohesive now as he rested his face in Yuu's apron.

"Sorry, everyone but we need to cut here. We exercise personal safety in what we eat and seeing as Cater is in no condition to continue this is the end." Yuu said comforting her stupid friend by stroking his head but she was still as mischievous as always.

"This is what happens when you dont listen. Say goodbye Cater." Yuu cooed.

"Goodbye Cater." He moaned in pain, his face red fr the heat.

"Good Boy." She said cutting the feed.

When Cater finally recovered he got the internet fame he wanted. The trending tags were #ChefMommy, #Spicynoodechallange, #ChefYuu, #hotandfresh, #HeNeedsSomeMilk, and #bisexualmoment (yall better not use these. I will not be held responsible for making these tags.)

There were clips everywhere of the video. Memes of his face crying in Yuu's clothes that read "Me when my biwife says no more chicken nuggies"

Fans demanded Yuu to come back or for her to make her own channel.

Jack

Jack was probably the most normal person to feed. When he wanted something, he asked. No trick or games.

That is until Yuu had another fight with Leona and Leona banned Yuu from the dorm and giving food to Savanaclaw members.

Ruggie didn't listen and was staying at Ramshackle until it blows over because he wasn't giving up Yuu's food for anything.

Jack was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't like it but he complied.

It didn't help watching Ruggie all his fellow first years eating her lunches. She even made pear parfait for him and he couldn't have any.

Yuu thought it was painful to watch as he gave her puppy dog eyes.

Jack came up a convoluted work around. He would just sneak over to Ramshackle in his wolf form and eat there. As long as someone other then Yuu gave it to him then it wasn't "Yuu's" food.

He didn't feel guilty wolfing down a waygu steak and potatoes, lick his chops in satisfaction.

He still urged Yuu and Leona to call of their feud to no avail. He had to give up and chose a side. To bad Leona didn't nearly enough for Jack to side with him. Yuu was his classmate, gave him good food, cared about him alot, and smelled better.

It helped that Yuu loved feeding him more in his wolf form.

Epel

Epel walked back to Pomefiore with his arms full of takeout containers. Yuu made a Sunday dinner full of souther comfort foods.

Fired chicken, greens, Mac n' cheese, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a cinnamon apple pie.

Epel felt like he could sleep for days.

He had told Yuu that he missed home and when he talked about his grandmother's food their was a glint in her eye. She had gone behind his back to send a letter to his grandma and they began sharing recipes.

Yuu cooked everything to the letter.

When Epel took his first bite he almost cried. I was just like gram's but it reminded him of Yuu as well. He could taste a seasoning only she used.

He made sure to take back as much a possible and keeping his envious dorm mates from taking it. He knew Rook and Vil were snagging his food even if they were playing innocent. They could get their own. Yuu made this for him.

Around the holidays Yuu was at his house with Professor Crewel and Headmaster Crowley. She was cooking with Epel's grandmother who made not so subtle hints about her joining the family in the future.

Kalim

Yuu actually had no interest in cooking for Kalim. He made it clear he didn't eat anything that Jamil didn't make. Why step on someone else's toes.

She understood that everyone has preferences and fears are valid. She trusted Jamil to know what Kalim likes. She just cooked food for Jamil instead.

One evening while Jamil was cooking Yuu was in the kitchen feeding him bites of the lunch she made him that he forgot to eat since he was busy. Most people stared clear watching the affectionate scene but Kalim was too interested to say put.

He wanted in on this much to Jamil's annoyance.

"I want some." Kalim popped up, mouth open to a bid to be fed like a baby bird like Jamil.

"No, I couldn't eat earlier because I was so busy. It's mine." Jamil growled as he cooked Kalim's dinner. "Besides you'll spoil your appetite."

"He's right, Jamil is working hard to cook for you. You don't want to ruin that." Yuu said half heartedly. It's not like she didn't want to give him any, it's just that she respected Jamil.

"Not even a little bite?" Kalim said pitifully pulling on Yuu's sleeve.

"I'm sorry." Yuu sighed.

Still when Jamil's back was turned she spooned a serving of chicken Tajine into Kalim's mouth. Kalim was elated and gestured for more. He really liked it.

Yuu felt guilty but she couldn't help herself. She gave him more whenever Jamil wasn't looking, all the while feeding Jamil.

Was this cheating or betrayal? Probably not. If Jamil knew he didn't say anything.

Kalim got used to being fed after this and when Yuu was around he only wanted her to give him food. This made parties difficult as everyone watched Kalim being served by hand.

Jamil only sighed at Kalims spoiled behavior but he didn't have to cook every single day now so the break was a relief. This is why he told her not to give him food. Kalim was like a stray cat once you feed him once you can't get rid of him.

Crowley

Crowley knew he was being left out. Everyone in the teacher's lounge eagerly ate Yuu's cooking. The staff actually forced him to bankroll the operation to increase student moral which was working very well.

But where's his lunchbox? What about Crowley and his hunger? Was his child so cruel to leave him starving?

Yes. Yes, she was. If he was a better guardian then maybe he'd get food.

This actually did show Crowley just how bad his relationship with Yuu was. He was the only one left without anything.

He tried to get close, but she was always too busy for him. He hung around Ramshackle with the excuse of fixing up some stuff. When he did she asked him to focuse on the portal back to her home.

He eventually gave in and made some progress and made a small portal he could manage. I would be a long time before he could do any more then that. She could use it to send letters and talk to her family as well as grab small items from home. I was more then enough for Yuu who cried hugging him.

Crowley wasn't lying to her, he was looking for a way back for her but he had doubted his ability to do it it takes a lot of magic and required the aid of lots of people. He outdid himself by creating a stable portal that could stay open constantly. Yuu could even use it to get ingredients from her realm.

He had to promise her family to take care of her no matter what and made his guardianship offical with their consent.

He forgot about the lunchbox thing eventually due to caring more about her than the food. When he visited Ramshackle one evening he saw her making something and decided to join her. He wasn't good at cooking but he enjoyed that atmosphere. He messed up a few times but Yuu laughed and showed him how to fold the dough.

They placed the toppings on their pizza and put them in the oven. His came out a bit sad but at least Yuu's tuned out fine. They cute it up and sat down for a dinner of pizza, salad and pasta.

He could be a better parent but he was making progress.

1K notes · View notes

moon-lv3r · 9 months

Text

beach date ~ 🍅💯

🦋 category: one-shot

🦋 characters: karma, asano, mentions of asano's father

🦋 summary: a small and fun beach date was suddenly flipped upside down as asano suddenly passed out for seemingly no reason

🦋 warnings: heat stroke? bad parenting from asano's dad

🦋 notes: i accidentally deleted the ask from the requester omg i am so stupid istg... but i remembered their user (i hope) @project-neo thanks for requesting !

it was a request where asano, karma and reader were out at the beach and asano suffered from a heat stroke, due to his shitty father

there's a little part inspired by the manga where asano and his dad talk about suing each other that I decided to include in here bc I thought that it would be funny. I actually don’t remember if that scene was animated or not lol

The blazing hot sun did you no favour. Every step felt like walking on lava. Karma was behind you, laughing at your struggles, as if his hair wasn’t dripping with sweat this very moment. Asano walked behind the both of you, maintaining a distance he always had, fearing that he would be seen one day. He seemed to be embarrassed by the sight that had welcomed his eyes.

He was beginning to question why you had to plan a beach day. In such hot weather no less. It was psychotic of you. Asano was beginning to see that he seemed to have a type. He wondered why he even decided to go on this trip, he must have had a screw loose in his brain.

The sun had provided extra glare on the sea, the water surface reflecting off the light from the sun. Karma seemed to be well prepared for the day, which was obvious as he was the one who had planned it. You just joined because you had nothing else better to do. Asano joined because of your relentless talk about wanting a triple date. He could only give in to your charms.

The summer seemed to be the perfect time to visit the beach. The blazing sun shone the areas around the three of you as you all looked for the perfect spot to lay down beside each other, though Asano would prefer to keep his distance from the two of you, due to his fear of being caught. He had no idea as to why he was even involved with the both of you, it was something that just… happened. But he didn’t stop it either, Asano just chose to let the relationship continue. Whether it was a decision he regretted remains to be seen.

“Karma!” You shouted, “I found a spot!” Your arms waved enthusiastically, signalling for the boys to come over. Karma looked over and smiled, seemingly satisfied with the spot you had found.

“Not bad,” Karma replied as he placed his items before helping you to arrange yours neatly on the sandy ground.

Asano just followed, not wanting to argue as he had a bad headache. Perhaps it was due to him not being able to get enough sleep and thus not at his best. But he still decided to follow them on this date, for some unknown reason. Asano was beginning to think that he had broken his brain at long last, after his constant studying. There was something wrong with him, wasn’t there?

The sun continued to bake the ground and the sand they were sitting on, the shade doing little to lower down the temperature, though it was still better than being out in the open. Karma was getting restless, it was not a part of his plan to just sit around and let the sand be blown into their eyes. He wanted fun, his type of fun.

It was not a date with Karma if everything went smoothly without pranks.

“Y/n!” Karma chanted happily, with a wide grin plastered onto his face. You looked at him, confused but on high alert, one can never have their guard down around him. Even Asano had his guard up even though it was not his name that left Karma’s mouth.

One can never be so sure of their safety.

“What is it Karma?” You asked, ready to defend yourself. That only egged Karma on more as he inched closer, his hands hiding behind his back. You knew this could never be anything good.

He was Akabane Karma.

“Karma,” Asano began softly as he rested on the sand below him. “Can we have a normal date for once?” Asano seemed to be awfully tired and had his eyes shut despite being underneath the shade you had found. You just assumed that he was tired from studying all night.

You nodded in agreement, “Asano is right! We need a break, you know!”

Karma laughed in response, “Wouldn’t that be such a killjoy?”

You looked at his arms, tilting your head so that you could see what he was hiding. “A crab! You’re holding a crab!” You decided to guess. It was a wild one with no evidence but it was also the one that had made the most sense to you.

“Come on!” Karma continued, “We’re out here to have fun, aren’t we?”

You did not know how to respond to that, because technically, Karma was right. You were all out here to simply have fun. Though you were not interested in Karma’s idea of fun. It seemed more like hell to you.

“I'd rather die than enjoy the ‘fun’ you have for us,” Asano replied. It was like he had read your mind and said the exact words you wanted to come out of your own mouth.

Unfortunately, Asano’s words seemed to have little effect on Karma. It seemed as though nothing would have him under control. He was a wild animal it seems. You often wondered just how you got into this mess to begin with…

Karma still kept his hands out of view, which only solidified your thoughts further. It had to be a crab, there was no other explanation. What else could he take from a beach? Surely Karma would not take a jellyfish right?

And you would be right to think that it was a crab. Karma suddenly threw it at you, catching you completely off guard. You let out a loud screech before crawling over to Asano. All Asano did was to glance between the both of you, “Do I have to remind you guys your ages?” He said before laying down. His head was hurting badly and he needed that rest. It was just a headache, it will go away, right?

“Asano!” You began. “You’re sweating so much even under the shade! The weather really can’t be that hot!” You laughed.

Asano’s body seemed to be sweating a crazy amount, more than Karma even. Asano merely brushed your comments aside and ignored it, acting like all was normal with him. Though he could feel that there was something wrong.

Something wrong with his body

Karma, however, frowned and sensed that something was slightly… amiss. He squinted his eyes at Asano, who glared back. Karma was examining his dearest rival and lover, only to get a glare back, how kind of Asano. “Are you sure you are alright?” Karma asked.

Asano could only nod in frustration, “Do you guysss think… I am a small child?” He snapped, his words sounding slightly slurred and dragged on.

“How else are we supposed to treat you?” You joked, not sensing that there seemed to be something wrong.

“I don’t knoww,” Asano replied, his speech still dragged on as his head was hurting him more. “I’m goingggg to get sssomething.”

Asano tried to stand, but his legs seemed to give up on him. His hands reached for a tree as you stood up and rushed towards him, finally realising that something might just be a little bit wrong. Asano tried to tell you that he would be fine but he could not even stand properly.

“I- amm finee,” He said. His speech was sounding even more slurred than previously. He could not even speak like a normal person. Something was definitely wrong and you should have realised it sooner,

The gravity of the situation only fully fell upon you when Asano completely collapsed in your arms, going limp. Karma rushed towards the both of you and touched Asano. The both of you felt his bare skin. It was weirdly hot. Something seemed to be wrong.

“Heatstroke,” Karma quickly deduced. “I’ll carry him to the male’s, you call an ambulance.”

You nodded and handed Asano to Karma as quickly as you could. Next, you looked through your bag and took out your phone, dialling for the ambulance. You wondered if you should let Asano’s family know about it. They were a family… but they don’t know about you and Karma, for obvious reasons. You decided to play it safe and not call them. You will let Asano decide if he wants to call them when he wakes up.

Karma went to splash cool water on Asano using the showers while you called the ambulance. It did not take long for them to arrive and take Asano with them, though only one of you could follow Asano in the ambulance as there was limited space. Karma let you follow Asano while he took public transport. The paramedics assured you that Asano was not in any critical danger and that you guys had Karma to thank for his quick thinking.

Karma had always been smart, of course he would realise what was happening and immediately follow up with the solution to ensure that things would go smoothly. That was one of the reasons why you were drawn to him. He was just full of the unexpected and there would never be a second of boredom spent with him around.

The drive to the hospital was a mere ten minutes, yet it felt like the ride was longer than you had been alive. Your gaze was stuck on the unconscious Asano, your hands held tightly to his, hoping that he would awake and tell you that this was all just a huge, elaborate prank by him and Karma, though it was unlikely. Asano would never work with Karma for a prank. That wouldn’t be Asano anymore.

You followed the paramedics as they rushed Asano into the hospital, into a room, until you were not allowed to follow them anymore. You texted Karma your location, hoping that he would join you soon. Karma took a while to arrive but you were glad that he did. The both of you sat in silence, your lovely beach date ending just like that. You two still had to figure out the reason behind Asano’s heatstroke as well.

Why was he severely dehydrated? Why was he severely dehydrated? It didn’t seem to make any sense that Asano would just not drink water, there had to be something more behind it. Asano was not the kind that would just risk himself like that. Karma shared the same thoughts as you as well. The both of you decided to approach Asano about the topic in the best way the both of you could, without pushing him away.

“We should just ask him,” Karma suggested, “Like a casual conversation. Talk about it like its some normal thing.”

“And how do you even go about that?” You asked, “How do we even phrase it?”

Karma paused as he thought about it. His gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as he tried to figure out ways to your dilemma. Asano was still not a very open person despite being with the both of you. It takes a lot, trying to enter his world that he had kept closed to many around him. You were just scared that he would not be truthful.

“We can just say ‘why did you faint? What did the doctors say?’,” Karma suggested.

You nodded in agreement as the doctors exited and approached the both of you to inform you two that Asano was alright, he just had a heatstroke and that he had been transferred to a room for further observation, but he should be fine to leave in a few hours. The doctors even thanked Karma for his quick thinking, otherwise who knew what might have become of Asano Gakushuu.

The both of you thanked the doctors before heading off to find Asano to check up on him. There he laid on the hospital bed, looking the same as ever. His face facing out the window. His eyes glancing at the scenery.

“Asano,” You chanted with a huge smile on your face as you slowly approached him.

“The doctors said I got a heat stroke right?” He asked.

You paused as your mind scrambled about to find the right words to respond, but Karma managed to beat you to it.

“So straightforward!” Karma laughed, “How did it happen to you?” He asked in the most inappropriate, unserious tone you had ever heard from Karma. He had just gone against the plan!

Asano sighed as he turned to face the both of you, “You know… my father.”

Karma laughed once more, you shot him an unimpressed look while Asano looked as annoyed as ever. “A man can’t just cause heat stroke, you know,” Karma replied.

Asano rolled his eyes, “My father did not allow me to drink anything if I could not pass the papers he made me to! I can’t drink a single glass if I don’t meet his expectations.”

Oh…

You did not know how to respond to that. It was not what you were expecting to hear. You knew Asano had problems with his father but you never knew it would be this bad. That man should not be a father.

“Sounds like a good lawsuit, child negligence. Don’t you think so?” Karma responded, saying the last thing you expected to hear in a situation like the one you were in right now.

You stared at him with the most judgmental face you could show while Asano actually seemed amused by what Karma had said.

“Now that,” Asano replied. “Is a good idea, I wonder how much I can make from this.”

You frowned at the both of them, absolutely bewildered at what had just happened, at what you had just heard. It was more than crazy. Have they gone insane?

“Y/n,” said Asano, “You seem scared.”

“Yeah,” You replied, “At how crazy the both of you are.”

Asano and Karma laughed like it was just a silly joke. You just kept your judgemental face and looked at them. Why were you even involved with them was anyone’s guess.

The hours ticked by and soon, Asano was allowed to return to his home. He was already getting tired of the hospital bed and the food was not suitable to his taste, he had asked you to grab some food for him. He was lucky that he only stayed a few hours, you had thought about making him and Karma stay longer due to how crazy they have been.

You and Karma had to ensure that Asano made it home safely, not that you were complaining. It was the funniest and weirdest date you have ever been on with those two. After telling Asano to drink more water, and Karma telling him to drink from the toilet if he had to, the both of you made your way home.

Things with the both of them can just be so crazy sometimes.

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma #asano gakushuu #gakushuu asano #polyamarous #assclass #karma x reader #asano x reader #karma x asano x reader #beach date #heat stroke #this was lowkey fun to write even though i’m not a shipper #i’ve never really seriously wrote a poly #the first karma asano one does not really count since it’s not really a fic #gender neutral reader

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two-white-butterflies · 7 months

Text

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part one

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

(A rewrite of 'Waiting for a Bus')

series masterlist |

<previous part

"You're in the wind, I'm in the water. Nobody's son and nobody's daughter." - Chemtrails Over the Country Club, Lana Del Rey.

(Targaryen's Residence, Dragonview. September 15, 2007)

Viserys places his cigarette on the ash tray, carefully browsing through his morning newspaper. "Our boy is a little weak, don't you think." he interrupted his wife's Lauds. Alicent's eyebrows furrowed, walking away from her hour of prayer. "Weak?" she inquired and he nods. Not even bothering to stare at her - only at his newspaper.

"He does not act the ways a boy should. He spends his time with Helaena, and I detest your girl very much." he stated, looking down upon his own children. A piece of Alicent's heart shatters. Who was this man that she married? "Our Helaena? She is bright beyond her years, I understand why Aemond prefers her." she defended.

Once again, she was a girl - gulping the grief of a woman scorned. "Don't you think that Aemond should spend time with children of his own gender? We live in a society, Alicent. You wouldn't recognize it, as you are privileged enough to turn a blind eye. Helaena must be perfect. She is a girl, but our sons - they must be strong. Our sons are the pillars of this family. Aemond is weak. Tenderhearted, loving, kind. He'd have an easier life being the opposite of that." he explained.

Alicent settles her rosary on the pew.

"Our sons are the pillars of this family? You say that while your daughter stands to inherit everything." she gritted her teeth.

"You ask for too much of me," he continues reading the paper. "And you give me so little, Viserys." she responded - glaring at him. "I cannot give our children the company. I wasn't the one who created it." he enunciated. "Aemma founded it but you made it prosper. Rhaenyra has money of her own, her husband owns half of Canada, but what about our children?" she frowned.

Viserys takes a deep breath, he settles the newspaper on his lap. "I'm not the only shareholder. If I divide it up into four pieces - there won't be enough to go around." he answers, not feeling the slightest of remorse for his children with Alicent. "- but there is another shareholder. Aemma's best friend." he looked at the vast horizon.

"I will deal with it, Alicent. If it makes you happy." he grumbled.

Another person's life had the same worth as a red fire-ant.

Easily murdered, and without any consequence.

(St. Joseph the Worker's School in Dragonstone. January 3, 2023)

"The island may look small, but theres four thousand citizens that live here. A quarter of whom are children." Rhaenyra took a bite out of her crostini. "Oh, that's why there are three sections in every grade." you chuckle, playing with the lettuce of your salad.

Dragonstone was the same size as Taipei.

Normally in these parts of the province, there were few buildings - then vast farmlands that stretched as far as the eye could see. To your surprise, there was a main city - with two hospitals and a functioning mall. Economy seemed to be booming in this little island.

"Yeah, we always seem to shock everyone with our numbers. I hope that the pay is good." she smiles and you nod. "It's decent - actually bigger than what they paid me in my internships." you affirmed. "You must be very smart to be teaching three grades in your first year." she complimented and you blushed.

"I can't be the judge of that," you played with the pendant on your necklace. "Humble, I like you." she smiled - returning back to her lunch.

jacejacejace posted to his story!

caption: my uncle is back in town, if ur above 20 hmu. he's single.

replies

LucerysGaming: 💀u should be embarrassed to call yourself a Velaryon - jacejacejace: who asked?

LaenorVelaryonLaw08: Why does he look sad? Seen 10:29

LaenorVelaryonLaw08: Shouldn't you be in school? - jacejacejace: I'm taking a gap year for college dad 😁 - - LaenorVelaryonLaw08: 👍🏻

RhaeTargaryen: The face I make when I find something out 😭 - jacejacejace: HAHAHA who taught u that emoji? - - RhaeTargaryen: yo mom 😮 - - - jacejacejace: joffrey ik that it's u, pls stop using mom's phone - - - - RhaeTargaryen: yo mama so fat 😮

It was seven o'clock when you left the building. Aemond was there - waiting for you. There wasn't a sliver of annoyance in his face. You were reminded of how lucky you were to have him. "Was I too long?" you asked and he reached for your handbag. "No," he placed a kiss on your forehead - then turning around to place your bag on the backseat. While he was doing all that - you feel a hand on your shoulder. "Rhae," you turned to look at her.

"I'm really sorry for the kid's noise during your math class. Their energy levels were really high after P.E." she apologized, eyes trailing towards the man behind you. She clenched her fist. "Aemond," she greeted in a passive-aggressive tone. "Rhaenyra," he enunciated every letter - as if he was mocking her.

She couldn't stand him. She couldn't bare to look at the man that stole everything from her in her past life. "You didn't tell us that you were visiting?" she tiptoed around the subject. You stare at them back and forth, "- you know each other?" your voice raises a single decibel. "He's my brother." Rhaenyra confirms with a chuckle.

She doesn't remember him much in this life - he was born when she was eighteen. Already bedded and wedded to her high-school sweetheart. The silence breaks and a mask enters your boyfriend's face. "Rhaenyra, she's my girlfriend. (Your Name), my sister." he introduced the both of you, and you shake hands again.

"I didn't know that you had a girlfriend," her eyes narrowed, bitterness dripping from her tongue. "I never imagined seeing you with a woman." Rhaenyra adds and Aemond could only scoff. He knew what it meant. Rhaenyra found him to be unlovable. "Surprise," he stared at her blankly.

His sister tears her attention away from Aemond. "I wanted to invite you to dinner - there's no classes on Wednesday. It's something that me and the grade school staff do." she explained and you nod. "Of course, I'd be glad to join." you confirmed, feeling Aemond pinch the curve of your spine. "That's all," she turns around and he pulls you away from his sister.

"Did you have to agree?"

"We'll talk about this when we get home, Aem." you roll your eyes.

You were annoyed with him - how could he not tell you the names of his siblings? You only knew Aegon and Helaena. You weren't even aware that he had another sister. He takes a deep breath, starting the car's engine and putting on that face of innocence.

DaemonTargaryen.phd: I had an amazing conversation with HRH Prince Harry last weekend. I told him that I'll bring my Megan next time 🤣.

liked by 1,238 others

>comments

LucerysGaming: the megan in question: Caraxes 🐶

jacejacejace: handsome ... prince harry is so handsome

"Are you done posting?" Rhaenyra peeked over her uncle's shoulders. "I feel like I might die," he gasped while leaning on the leather seats of her car. "- of all the people in the world. She had to be with him. I wouldn't even be mad at her if she dated Gerald Butler. But that cu-" he was about to curse but she interrupts him.

"Do not say that word, we got into trouble the last time you said that." she reminded and he rolled his eyes. "I think he killed her, he held a dagger to her neck. I didn't see - that bitch Alys stabbed me." he cursed again, opening his flask and taking a sip of his whiskey.

"I don't think he remembers,"

"He does - his green witch made sure, just as my wife did." he fumed. What game was Aemond Targaryen playing? Why did he have to take everything that Daemon desired? "He thinks that it is a prosaic task, but by the gods is he stupid?" Daemon chuckled.

He takes his attention off you - and into the car. "Why aren't we going anywhere?" he inquired. "We have to wait for my kids." she snapped.

"There's a reason why they have a father." he sassed.

"- you can start complaining when you get your license back." she smiled teasingly, before opening her phone and browsing through social media.

"You are aware that Jace is selling you to his followers, right?"

"That little cunt."

>next chapter

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demondamage · 1 year

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MediwhumpMay Day 1 - IV/Cannula

cw: forced medical treatment, neck cannula

@mediwhumpmay Day 1 - IV/Cannula

"Please... Angel... You've taken so much from me already. Kill me if you must. But leave me who I am."

Kotoru paused, rubbing the thin medical gloves he had been pulling off. It didn't make sense. Ever since his reincarnation, this had been his mission, to find a way to help the poor corrupted spirits trapped in the demonic existence. The ravenous hunger, the painful mutilation, he couldn't imagine it was an enjoyable existence. Of course the healing process would be painful, but as a means to an end he would assume his ward would be thankful for the chance to change.

Then again demons, and specifically Aziphem, were not known for their decision making skills.

"I know it seems scary," he sighed, finally pulling off the gloves. "But this is what's best for you. Your rehabilitation could finally mean freedom."

Apparently, Aziphem was not a fan of that answer, curling his lips to snarl. Kotoru returned his signature smile, warm and friendly, a bedside manner he had had centuries to perfect. A smile that faltered when he saw the area surrounding the cannula running to the demon's neck.

White veins spiderwebbed out from the injection site, stretching towards the head and the heart. How long had this been there? A small gnaw of worry chewed on his stomach. He didn't want to stop the treatment... but Aziphem was the ideal candidate for rehabilitation and he wouldn't lose him over a false lead.

"I will see you tomorrow, with some breakfast. Sound nice?" Kotoru smiled again, hiding the concern.

The demon, of course, returned only barred teeth.

Sliding out of the white medical cell and into the observation deck Kotoru sighed and rubbed his temples. Why wouldn't a demon want to change? Did they not wish to end their suffering? The thought ate at his brain, but gave him something to think about for the long night ahead of watching monitors. Normally he would make his apprentice do it, but the pairing of precarious medical condition and game boy addict attention span was not a gamble he wanted to wager this much on.

Maybe that chewing worry in his stomach was worth listening to. While he didn't need sleep anymore, the monotony of heart monitors and EKG readouts lulled him into a false sense of security that could only be interrupted by silence.

The lack of beeping shook him alert again before the flatline tone had the chance to.

... (to be continued on day 5?)

#whump art #whump #mediwhumpmay #medical whump #demon oc #angel oc #Neck #whump writing #captivity #I don't know if yall will get a comic and writing every day #but yall will get something hopefully #whump comic #Demondamageart #demondamagecomic #Kotarou #Aziphem

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corvusalbus93 · 6 months

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Wish: Pure Villain Rewrite

I’ve posted a rewrite with Magnifico as a sympathetic antagonist some time ago, (click here if interested) now it’s time for Magnifico as a pure Disney Villain. No big backstory here, just note that Amaya is going to be just as villainous, and like in my other rewrite, Asha’s their daughter.

The story:

Asha grows up believing her parents to be quite benevolent; all they ask is that each citizen gives them a single wish (usually once people move to Rosas or turn fifteen), some getting granted by her father...eventually. The people appear content and happy, crime is virtually unknown. A perfect kingdom on the surface.

Asha is mostly taught by tutors, not seeing her parents all that often, but begins to study magic as a teenager under her father. She eventually does ask him about the wishes, why he doesn’t fulfil more. Magnifico explains how some might be dangerous and would threaten the kingdom; it’s best for the stability of their realm if he and her mother keep a close watch. He assures Asha she’ll understand soon enough.

One night Asha catches a guy, around her age, breaking in; he claims her parents aren’t benevolent, but using magic to keep people obedient. Asha insists that Rosas is the most splendid kingdom, wealthy, its citizens safe and content. The guy points out that the reason is the mind-alteration and because other kingdoms are too scared to mess with a powerful sorcerer. She doesn’t buy it and guards bring him into the dungeon. Still, his words stick with her. She doesn’t want to believe it and decides to check the city for herself, having never really mingled with the common people before, to prove the wanna-be thief wrong.

She uses her hawk, Valentino, a spell allowing her to see through his eyes (I changed him into a none-speaking hawk, because falconry was a popular pastime among nobles, so it felt like a better fit). Asha sees how docile, in some cases almost lethargic, the people are, when it isn’t a wish-ceremony or other celebration. Most just go about their lives, stuck in their routines and with no real drive. She checks on a staff-member, who had their wish taken the other day, a boy only a little younger than herself, and he too is unsettlingly docile, rather than his chipper old self.

That night she sneaks into the dungeons to speak with the wanna-be thief, confused and feeling conflicted.

(“But my father only takes a wish!” Asha exclaimed. “All people must have more than one or develop new ones through life. Why would taking one change them so much?”

“That’s sounds like something worth looking into.”

“You’re dragging me into something, aren’t you?”

“Am I? ‘Cause you seem perfectly capable of following this line of thought on your own.”

“My parents are good people.”

“...are you telling me, or yourself?”)

After their conversation, Asha begins to spy on her parents, using her hawk Valentino among others. She not only sees them reward morally dubious people with granted wishes for their services, but her mother spies on their people (using the eyes of any animal she wishes, just like Asha does with Valentino), picking out those who need to reigned in, which happens via wishes. As it turns out, the wishes are a link to people’s minds and heart and Magnifico can manipulate how a person thinks and feels through a wish-orb.

Trying to fix this, Asha speaks to her father about the wishes once again, but can’t sway him. He lectures her on the importance of keeping order. Without it, people turn against each other and their rulers, which only leads to suffering. People leave the continent and come to Rosas seeking safety and hoping their dreams have a chance to become reality here, even if the chance is small. They happily give him their deepest wishes, forget them willingly, because in truth, they desire stability even more. And as a wise and just ruler it falls to him to decide what wishes will benefit the kingdom.

Asha struggles with this new knowledge for a while, before she frees the wanna-be thief from his cell, not wanting him to have his wish taken. He asks her to come with him, and to see what life with agency looks like. He leads her deep into the mountains beyond the city, to a hidden town and introduces her to the enclave. While not as splendid, the people seem happy, lively, everything is so much more vibrant, a stark contrast to the city of white marble. She sees how people need more than safety/order to truly thrive. To live.

She’s introduced to a group that studies magic and is trying to figure out how to give the wishes back and get rid of the royals. They eventually ask Asha for help, as she can actually use magic, while they are trying to teach it to themselves, without much success yet. Asha needs some time to think about it, but after a heart-to-heart with some of her new friends agrees to help.

She returns to the castle, continues to spy and study, playing the good daughter, while supplying the enclave with books, scrolls and information. (Probably a good place for a song-montage to show how this takes place over months)

That is until one night her father summons a star. Not only would it empower him, but it would allow him to extend his control far beyond the island borders and now Asha’s parents are creating a spell that would forcefully draw out people’s wishes in both Rosas and neighbouring realms. Asha quickly notifies the enclave and acting quickly they go to steal the star. They succeed thanks to Asha getting them past all magical security measures, but she has to leave with her rebel friends.

Back in the enclave the rebels discuss using the star against the royals, but Asha, not wanting to be anything like her parents at this point, instead frees the star (which turns out to be a mute shapeshifter), which is very grateful for her kindness. She asks if the star would willingly help them free their people, and after explaining things to them, the star readily agrees. As she can’t return to the capital, Asha uses Valentino to check on her parents, to find out their next move.

Magnifico and Amaya learn about the theft and with their daughter gone, the magical seals broken, it doesn’t take them long to figure out she’s responsible. They are disappointed, and lament not having overseen her education personally or not having taken one of Asha’s wishes to help mould her more directly. They discuss how to proceed and while without the star the spell’s reach will be limited, Magnifico can still use it to forcefully draw out the wishes of everyone on the island at least, including their daughter. Asha overhears this thanks to Valentino, but her mother notices the hawk, and sends one of her own birds to bring him down, while Asha is powerless to stop it.

The rebels get everyone together for another meeting, and a still conflicted Asha speaks to one of her friends, who reveals that their parents had their wishes taken and are completely loyal, completely trusting the royals. They tried to reason with them, but didn’t believe a word, and so they fled before their wish could be taken to. They wish to reconnect with their family, despite still being angry with their parents for what happened between them. After all, they too were deceived and manipulated, perhaps even with magic. Asha apologizes for the pain her parents caused them and so many others, and for not realizing how evil they were earlier. Her friend reassures her that she doesn’t need to apologize, not to them. She was just a kid, who trusted her parents...and yet she still came through, despite how difficult this must be for her. Asha asks if they even want her as a queen, should they succeed, how she doesn’t even know if she’s suited for such a task. Her friend reminds her that she won’t have to do everything on her own and whatever happens, she’s already doing more for their people than her parents.

As the meeting begins, Star gives Asha a staff of her own, fashioned from a tree branch, infused with the Star’s own magic, so she can stand a chance against her father. The rebels pick a team to go on the mission to take the king and queen out, deciding to go about it stealthily, hoping to be able to strike before Magnifico or Amaya can use their magic against them. This brings up the question as to what to do with them, most voting to either imprison the royal couple for the rest of their lives, others inclined to a more permanent solution, fearing they could escape and pose a threat again. Asha asks Star, if they can take her parents magical abilities away, but Star shakes their head, communicating that it would likely be lethal; it would be like taking someone’s entire blood supply. But the enclave’s scholars claim to have found a solution. They found an enchantment in the books provided by Asha and understanding their intentions, Star uses this knowledge to enchant several handcuffs collected from freed prisoners to suppress the magic of anyone wearing them. Every member of the team gets one, hoping that two of them will be able to get one on both king and queen.

They infiltrate the palace, only to find out that Magnifico has already begun casting the spell, having set up a giant ritual circle in the royal garden, since it offered the most space. With the guard fast asleep, thanks to Star and Asha, Queen Amaya defends her husband, so he can focus. It works at first, Asha and her allies unable to act as the wishes are being painfully drawn out of them, but an unaffected Star begins to duel Amaya. When she’s about to be defeated, Magnifico interrupts the spell to save her, allowing the others to join the fight, Asha taking on her father.

But even with her new staff, she is quickly pushed back. She tries to reason with him, but he’s fully aware of what he’s doing and has no qualms, telling her that he’s quite disappointed in her, but they’ll “fix” her, once he got his hands on her wish. Star needs to step in and save her, shielding Asha, so she can focus on the offensive, which evens the odds.

The others eventually manage to outmanoeuvre the Queen, putting a pair of handcuffs on her. Magnifico is enraged by this and lashes out, knocking most out or injuring them. Only Asha, shielded by Star’s magic, remains relatively unharmed/conscious. As Magnifico goes to free his wife, Asha acts quickly and reaches out to the plants of the garden. She manages to trap her parents in a pair of trees, just as they reach out to each other, though they never manage to touch...merely the newly sprouted branches do. Star enchants the trees to make sure they won’t wither and die, turning them into permanent prisons, or at least until Asha figures out another solution, if she ever finds one.

They return the wishes to the people, releasing those directly manipulated of her parents’ spell and Asha sends Star home to the heavens (maybe after Star showing her how to heal Valentino, if we don’t want to kill off the animal sidekick; I want the Star not to simply fulfil wishes, but to only give the heroes the tools they need to do things themselves, in contrast to Magnifico + a little magical support in combat). Rosas begins to recover, families start to heal with the wishes returned and he truth out. Those living in the enclave don’t have to hide anymore either, though the place remains a bustling little town.

Ends with Asha standing in the gardens, in front of the trees, contemplating all that has happened. A friends soon joins her, informing their new Queen that the Council is ready for their first meeting. When noticing that something’s up, Asha explaining that while she’s overjoyed for her people and kingdom, she laments that her family can never heal. Her friend reminds her that while this is true, she got her friends now, and they got her back, they’ll be there for her, always...so, how about they go make this a kingdom into something truly great together.

#disney wish #wish 2023 #wish rewrite #asha wish #king magnifico #queen amaya

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xxcatzladyxx · 6 months

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Demon Slayer Advent Calendar | Day 16 | Shinjuro x Reader | The Christmas letter

Written by me

~~~

Dear Shinjuro-sama,

I don't really know how to begin these lines. I would just like to tell you something. We didn't get off to the best start. This tense relationship between us is really eating me up. All I want is for there to finally be peace between us and for us to be able to treat each other like a real family. That's all I'm asking for. I understand that the death of your wife has taken its toll on you. But despite everything, you are not alone. You have two wonderful sons who worry about you day in, day out. It also breaks my heart to see you on the bottle every day. I don't want to offend you either. But I'm afraid that's the wrong way to deal with your grief. Kyojuro and Senjuro are grieving for their mother in the same way. And a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Why don't you take a step towards us. At least towards the boys. They don't let on, but they are suffering a lot from the strained relationship. They get the feeling that they've not only lost their mother, but also their father. I don't want to start any stress, especially not just before Christmas. I just want us to finally be able to act like a real family. Maybe not today, not tomorrow. But maybe one day soon. Nevertheless, I wish you a Merry Christmas!

With love

(y/n)

You put the pen down next to the sheet of paper and stretched out your tired arms. You would never have thought it possible that you would spend almost a whole day on one letter. The countless crumpled papers in the corner of the room spoke for themselves. You started writing these lines again a thousand times. You were never satisfied with them. You could make friends with the letter that was right in front of you. It was far from perfect, but you found it acceptable.

You fold the letter neatly and place it in a beautiful Christmas envelope. You wrote the name of the head of the Rengoku family on the front in italics. You quietly placed the letter in front of Shinjuro's door. Then you got ready for bed and turned in.

~*~

The next morning, you stumbled across a package lying outside your door. You carefully took it in your hands and looked at it from all sides. The wrapping paper was neatly folded and taped. A large bow was emblazoned in the middle. There was a tag with your name on it. You tried to decipher the writing. It was neither Kyojuro's nor Senjuro's. You concluded that it must be Shinjuro who had left the package on your doorstep. You went back to your room and opened the parcel out of sheer curiosity. The paper fell to shreds on the floor in front of you. You were holding a kimono in your hands that looked very similar to Kyojuro's haori. You hugged the kimono to you and silently thanked God for it.

You never thought that your letter would make a difference. However, day by day Shinjuro thawed out more and his grumpy behavior slowly subsided. Slow as a snail is fast. But at least something changed. He wasn't like he used to be, but he now had his aggression under control. He was also gradually giving up alcohol. So the power of Christmas was strong enough to bring families closer together again.

#reader #demon slayer #x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #advent calendar #rengoku shinjuro #kny shinjuro #shinjuro x reader

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scoundrels-in-love · 1 year

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Where there is love, there is life (Love lives, and I will defend her)

Unexpectedly left without Milly, the trio enjoy a quiet evening and perfect morning in which they struggle to keep to the lines they've so strictly decided to keep for self preservation. An unfortunate turn of events makes Vash and Wolfwood face just how important Meryl is to them and to what lengths they're willing to go to save her. | Mashwood | 1/4 chapters | On Ao3 | | Grievous Injury & Recovery | Feral & Biblically accurate Vash | Angst with happy ending | Idiots suffering from Mutual Pining | Bed sharing |

It's a perfect morning.

The three of them are crowded around a small table in a booth with plush seats on the first floor of the establishment that feels more like a proper hotel than an inn, as patchy and overpriced as it is. It is to be expected, on the edge of April.

The coffee is strong and she's allowed herself to splurge on milk and sugar. It tastes like the real thing, even.

The boys are bickering about something or other and she's throwing in a comment or two at times just to rile both of them up further, smiling into her cup at their shared, indignant sputtering.

Wolfwood's knee knocks into hers as he leans back into his seat, quirking his eyebrow at the other man. In retaliation, Vash kicks Nicholas lightly and his calf brushes against Meryl's and she drinks this casual closeness, for once uncomplicated and just a blend of them, like the coffee she’s sipping.

Her thoughts drift from their table and end up with Milly, a tinge of guilt murking her content mood. She shouldn't be so happy that her coworker had rushed ahead to be there for the birth of her newest nephew - after much reassurance from their group that she could - that the three of them had gotten delayed, that it is just them at this table on this perfect morning. But she is.

To ease her conflicted feelings, Meryl thinks about how they should telegram Milly and let her know they're coming - that the detour they took to follow a lead on the Eye of Michael facility turned out to be cold. It had been an empty, metallic husk of a building, scraped clean of most horrors performed there, and it had been relief and devastation all in one, because it didn't happen there anymore, but it surely happened elsewhere.

(She will not write in such detail, because nothing is safe. And even when they meet up again, she will not speak of the way Nicholas had trembled in the backseat for hours on their way back. Shook to the point even Vash could not hold him together and she had stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, beneath the blistering midday suns, and climbed in the back to bracket him from the other side.

Meryl does not know if it had brought comfort to him, but it had selfishly done so for her, to feel him warm and breathing, having lived through things beyond her comprehension, to hold onto her now with bruising force as gradually sparser spasms wrecked his body. Facing those steel colored rooms had reminded her how close she came to never knowing him, how much his every heartbeat was borrowed from pain.

Those moments are theirs alone.)

She finishes composing the telegram in her head just as the plates piled generously with wonderfully smelling food is brought and they dig into it with gusto. It's best any of them have had in a while and they're not shy about saying that - being in a city with multiple functioning plants has its wonderful benefits. And still, a certain ache has dripped into the happiness she had been wrapping herself up in. Classic Meryl, ruining everything good with overthinking. Never able to just exist in a moment and enjoy it. Sometimes to the point she's too focused on memorizing it instead of living it out.

At least she'd managed to strike some balance of it all last night, she thinks as she orders a dessert and another coffee. Wolfwood jokes that this must be why she saved on the bedroom cost - to splurge on treats - and she reminds him that at least it’s not a daily expense like his cigarettes, earning a scowl, since the topic is a source of heated debate often. Spurred by her good mood, she appeases him with a promise of a bite of the cake and Vash, too, since he immediately begins to whine about being left out. It works well enough and she gets to enjoy the rest of the dessert in relative peace, contemplating just how they’d come to be here.

---

When faced with the choice at the front desk, it seems logical to ask for just one room for them. The rates are exorbitant, Milly isn't here to take the other bed if she got a separate room and there are no singles left, making it a waste, and the three of them have shared the objectively much smaller space of the car's backseat and other cramped spots through the years.

But by the time they're in the room and she's staring at the bed, it doesn't seem like such a sound decision anymore. There is no way she is going to give up her rights to stretch out on a mattress, but that means she'll have to share space with one - or both - men and she can hardly imagine them all fitting without heat settling in her face. Maybe because it's a bed, taking away from their usual camping out vibes when they're packed close, on top of each other even, upon waking.

Instead, the scenes conjured by her mind are much more deliberate. Pressed close to them, between them, held and holding in return as they fall asleep, content and warm in a way she's only ever felt in stolen moments with Vash and Nicholas. Moments she steals away from the world and the time, over the walls they put around themselves, and hoards more greedily than she cares to admit.

Moments in which she can imagine they all feel the same and pressing a kiss to a sleepy face or an arm draped over her would not be out of place, would not be asking for what has actually never been offered. That she isn't reading too much into the affection that bubbles up in Vash's bright eyes, his smile, when he spins her in a dance, Wolfwood's hand on her lower back guiding her through the crowd or ruffling her hair. That….

She is so, so fucked if she sinks too deep in the comfort offered by this bed.

"I'm getting showered first," Wolfwood announces, interrupting her thoughts and at her hey! only smirks, "you snooze, you lose."

God, she hopes she wasn’t spacing out and staring at the bed the entire time.

Instead of facing the possibility that she had been, Meryl unpacks some necessities, then sits down next to Vash on the edge of the bed. He’s taken off his coat, folded it neatly as he always does, and is now fiddling with his prosthetic and doesn’t object when she gently interrupts to take over the process. When it comes off, his soft exhale makes her heart ache. She sets it on the chair he’s claimed for his belongings and returns to the spot beside him, bites back a smile when Vash takes off his glasses and leaves them folded on the nightstand. They’re so much more than an aid in sharpshooting or protection from the suns and that he feels secure to be without them in the quiet hours before sleep in their small company still sets a flutter in her chest.

For a bit, they sit in companionable silence, shoulder to shoulder, and Meryl thinks of the long road that has led them here, of the iles and years they’ve marched through, and how somehow, they’re the ones that feel the realest and sincerest of her entire life.

Her musings are interrupted by the bathroom door opening and Meryl looks up and then jolts, tearing her gaze away as Wolfwood comes out of the bathroom shirtless and his hair damp. Still too slow to not notice a trickle of water rolling down his neck and another one running across his muscled chest he's so fond of displaying, before disappearing into the dark hairs.

It's not that she hasn't seen Nicholas in various states of undress, sometimes because he has no shame and sometimes because he is injured, bleeding out while his miracle potion sets in, and in the aftermath of him washing and mending the clothes that bear marks of his injuries (like her nightmares do, too, and nothing fixes those). She should be used to it and most of the time she is, but sometimes a strange awareness settles in, an impression of a want, and she doesn't know what to do about it.

So Meryl just looks away and waits it out. This time she also uses the chance to occupy the bathroom and sighs softly with relief once the doors are shut. It's mostly for the chance to wash off sweat and dust, but also for some solitude to compose herself in.

If she takes longer than she normally would, no one has to know.

Once she comes out, Wolfwood is already occupying half of the bed (the closest one to doors, as he always does) and from the way Vash is angled away, slumped just so, it looks like they have had a little tiff about something, though at least Vash is keen on pretending everything is fine. He smiles at her on his way to the bathroom and she returns it, because it's easy to melt into something warm, content and echoing him.

As she approaches the bed, Nicholas rakes his gaze up her bare legs to the edge of her sleeping shorts, lingering there, before moving up to her black tank top slowly as if its tightness has anything to really accentuate. She’s grateful to lay down, back to him, because she can't bear to put her flushed face under similar scrutiny, stare into his dark eyes or avoid looking at his still naked torso. There is no sleeping until Vash is settled in, not for her.

"You guys okay?" She asks after a while, fingers pulling at a loose thread on the covers. She has learned to read both men well by now, but there is so much she doesn't understand about them and the bond that ties them together. (That she never will because she is a mere human that has stumbled into their lives.)

Blood, faith, trust, devotion to the human in the other that he's failing to see himself and understanding of the beast the world has sharpened part of him into. She is jealous and protective of it, this closeness Vash and Wolfwood share.

"Oh yes, Blondie’s being dense again, 's all."

"What is it this time?" Concern bubbles up, though she knows it can’t be anything too important, since it’s popped up in such a calm moment.

"Same thing as always for the last year or two. You should ask him yourself. I bet you could persuade him to see reason, Shortstack."

There’s an odd tone to his voice and Meryl thinks that maybe she had been wrong. Of course they’d get into serious topics even now. Worry curdles into a rock in her stomach. "Is this about Knives? You know he won't change his mind about that, no matter what."

Wolfwood barks a rough laugh. "No, not about that psycho." Then he seems to reconsider. "Well, maybe a little about him, but not the way ya think."

"You should either stop talking in riddles or shut up entirely," Meryl glares at him over her shoulder, expecting a cocky grin bearing down at her, but Wolfwood's face is unexpectedly contemplative. It does little to alleviate her worries.

Before anything else is said, Vash emerges from the bathroom. His dark underclothes cling to his body like he'd toweled off in a hurry and she sees the outlines of the metal parts sown into him that she doesn't really know the purpose of. Even so, she very much can fully appreciate his lean but muscled form, highlighted like this.

Usually she gets to see it only when she's fretting over his injuries or stealing a glance or two when she comes for a late night conversation in his and Wolfwood's room, sometimes under the pretense of needing something clarified for her work, sometimes merely because.

Vash moves past the bed, digs into his bag and then throws down his personal, thin blanket on the floorboards.

"I'm going to stay here," he says and flops on the floor without ceremony.

"No!" She objects with more volume than intended, just as a large hand comes to wrap around her waist and haul her backwards until she's pressed flush against Nicholas.

"Suit yerself, Spikey, but there's plenty of space 'ere."

If blushing had a sound, she'd be emitting it loudly right now. She elbows Wolfwood slightly, but has to admit this way, there's definitely more place for Vash to settle into.

"He's right for once. We didn't pay a frankly outrageous sum for you to sleep on the floor. I won't be able to rest if I know you're getting back pain."

She feels Nico's chuckle against her back. "Did ya hear that? Lady can't sleep without ya. You won't deny our princess her rest, will ya?"

Calling her his or theirs is a sure way to get under her skin and it works, though she suspects not entirely the way Wolfwood intends and she has no plans of sharing that. So, Meryl elbows him with more force this time and pulls a little away from him, but gives her best pleading look to Vash nonetheless. Nicholas might be an ass and teasing both of them simultaneously, but she isn’t above using it as leverage to get what she wants.

Vash looks at both of them for a quiet, inscrutable moment and Meryl’s pout almost wavers as her stomach prepares to drop.

Then he scrambles into the bed, on the very edge of it, but he’s there nonetheless and she gives him an approving smile, before pulling most of the thin blanket off of Nicholas and draping it over Vash and herself. Wolfwood complains behind her, but doesn’t put in the effort to reclaim it and she shares a soft laugh with Vash. Briefly, they all sink into a quiet sort of contentment, painted softly golden by the lamplight, before Vash turns it off and lets the shadows wash over them instead.

They exchange good nights and Meryl feels some tension slowly drain out of her. But it’s not enough and where her awareness had been previously dialed to ten and locked on Vash and Nicholas, it now loses focus and clutches to every crease in her tank top pressing against her skin, every bump in the mattress, the way her limbs aren’t comfortable for more than a minute no matter how she twists and turns them. She tries to move minimally, knowing how disruptive it must be, especially in this minimal space they share, but she can’t endure not trying to find a way to be a little more comfortable.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rest on her hip, stilling her and pressing her into the mattress. “I swear to God, Meryl, if you don’t stop wriggling…” Nicholas whispers in a rough voice and with the use of her name, it almost sounds like a promise, one that she would love to hear the entirety of, as her heart speeds up. His broad fingers span far across her stomach, index finger slipping beneath where her tank top has ridden up and pressing like a brand into her bare skin.

Sometimes, they really make it easy to misunderstand and get her thinking all kinds of nonsense.

Fuelled by pure spite against herself as much as Wolfwood, she gives one proper, good full body wiggle, but this time in the direction of Vash. Nicholas lets her go, though his hand remains on her hip.

“I am going to bite both of you if you don’t settle down,” Vash sleepily says, while welcoming her to rest her forehead against his collarbone all the same. There’s minimal but still existing distance between the rest of their bodies, she knows she’d overheat quickly if they pressed more closely, but this much contact feels the right amount of comforting.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Blondie.”

Vash makes a sound she can’t quite decipher and Meryl has to stifle a laugh (and chase away a few images that align more with Nicholas’ proposed vision than she’d like to admit).

None of them talk after this and though the exchange had initially added to her nervous energy, it gradually starts to dissipate as the silence goes on and she lets the warmth of touch anchor her into calm waters of rest.

She wakes gradually, thoughts filtering in one by one. Most of them are about early morning sunlight shining onto her closed eyelids. At some point, she tries to turn and bury her face in the warmth to her left, but there's a weight on her chest and she remains put on her back.

It's probably what truly wakes her and when she looks down, she sees a mop of messy blonde hair, most of Vash's face buried in her chest at an angle she can't see it. She does see his arm thrown over her middle, though, palm curled on Wolfwood's stomach. Her own left arm is thrown over Nico's chest, hand somewhere in the proximity of his jaw, while the other partially hangs off the bed. Her firm and hot pillow, she guesses, is Wolfwood's arm. His face is turned toward her, relaxed in a way she's hardly ever seen.

She can't even begin to guess at the configuration of their tangled legs. One of hers is definitely bent at an awkward angle and buried between and under something. God only knows where most of the blanket has gone, though she can see that Vash has wrapped himself up in some of it.

Meryl bites her lip, a swell of emotions in her chest, right beneath Vash's cheek. Sleep has once again eroded the barriers, the minimal distance they all maintain during the day. And though she thinks there is little more to it than the very human need to shift and seek out warmth when the desert night gets cold, it still twists her heart into some lopsided, wishful thing. Seeing Vash and Wolfwood seek out comfort and accept it, even unconsciously, always will, she thinks. Even more so when she's somehow included in the equation, if merely by chance.

She'd give anything to stay like this forever. She'd give anything to not be so damn uncomfortable all the while. Laying still and aware truly isn't her strong suit and when all of the other discomforts are pushed aside, her nose begins to itch like it's paid to. She knows how easy both men are to wake so there's nothing she can really do about it but try to wiggle the itch away.

A tanned hand enters her vision, rubbing the tip of her nose right where the itch is the worst. "G'morn," Wolfwood says barely above a whisper, voice scratchy with sleep. It tugs on her wobbly heart.

Her fingers twitch against his jaw, an almost caress, before she rubs at her itchy nose herself, pushing his hand gently away. He withdraws it and drapes it over her and Vash instead. Somewhere lower, Vash mumbles five more minutes and nuzzles deeper into her, his arm shifting upward and tighter around her simultaneously.

She can feel gathering wetness from his now parted mouth sink through the fabric of her tank top and well, this certainly isn't how she had imagined getting his mouth on her or her breasts…

Meryl's ears begin to burn as she mentally swats those images away. It's not that she's thought about it much at all, really. Or how pretty Vash's mouth is in general.

"Spikey's certainly had a night of wonderful dreams. He's usually first to wake and all that," Wolfwood rumbles and though she knows it's true, that Vash feeling safe enough to not become fully alert immediately is a rare thing, she smacks her hand backwards across his chest for the way he phrases it.

Unfortunately, it turns out Vash's hand is resting there now and she hits him more than Nicholas. Which does finally bring him out of his half-asleep state.

The blond blinks sleepily up at her from where he's still very much pressed against her breasts, making an inquiring sound that makes her think of a cat that has been gently poked awake. He looks content and happy and her heart wobbles again, aching to hold him, and her free hand comes to tangle into his hair.

But before she can, he wakes up. His blue eyes widen almost comically as he springs up and backward, his legs tangled up in the blanket flying upward as he tumbles out of bed in panic and lands on his back, arm spread to one side, but already apologizing.

"Oh God! I'm sorry!"

"Are you okay??"

"I'm so sorry, Meryl, I -"

"It's okay you were asleep -"

"Where's my apology, Blondie, you fondled my tits, too."

"Meryl, I swear-"

"It's fine!"

"No-"

"I didn't mind!!"

Her voice has been raising in volume and the last statement comes out loud, too loud, creating a silence in its wake. Immediate heat floods Meryl's face as she jumps out of the bed and runs to the bathroom, grabbing her change of clothes on the way.

The last thing she hears through the bathroom doors as she turns the water on is Wolfwood bursting into laughter.

She prepares for the day and then pauses to stare at her reflection in the mirror, mentally preparing for facing the men. It's not that she expects either of them to speak about it - at best, Nicholas will tease her and Vash later, when they least expect it.

It's she who needs to get her thoughts in order and heart untangled from warm threads of longing.

This is nothing new - some of the physical aspects technically are, but not the emotional core. Every time she and Vash drift closer, he pulls back with a start, almost violently. At least this time she can assume Vash acted out of understandable embarrassment, not being mildly appalled to have been so close to her.

(Unlike the time she had slipped off the car roof while gathering things, only to be caught by Vash. For one perfect moment, he'd held her tenderly and closely and she had felt like in a romance cover, her heartbeat loud in her ears as she looked at his sweet, concerned expression.

And then it had been over as he nearly dropped her in his rush to set her down gently. He'd made sure she was fine and then practically fled to the other side of camp to help Milly with the tent.

She had been without a scratch, but her heart - not so much.)

And for all of Wolfwood's dirty mouth and insinuation, the push and pull ends when it's just the two of them, his laughter gaining an almost nervous, uneven edge that makes her stop pressing into his space, because she would never want to force him into something he doesn't genuinely want. He leans into her casual touch at times, but not as much as he sometimes avoids it entirely lately, as if it could burn him. Maybe he's caught onto her and doesn't want to give her false hope. (It would explain why Vash has been keeping more and more of a distance, too.)

And it is not as if there is a lot of privacy on the road, traveling with Milly, for her to test their boundaries one on one or between the three of them. And it's not as if she has a lot of experience with this. (Not even the pile of magazines for girls and women she had dug through had a lot of tips for pursuing two men together.) In fact, part of her is still very much shying away from accepting that she wants either of them, both of them. To the point that she doesn't even know what that want encompasses entirely.

(To see them happy, to make sure they're taken care of, to express when her heart overflows with fondness, to comfort them without having to doubt if they want her to be there. And maybe to touch, freely. To see if she can tether Vash to the present moment with a kiss, if she can smooth Nico's brow with her thumb. To have mornings like this and afternoons where she can sit in one of their laps and hold their hands and-)

In the end, it might be as simple as her not being their type, in some fundamental or much more miniscule way. They both handle touching and closeness and even vulnerability with each other more easily, at least to her observation. And that's fine. She'll be happy for them, if they ever formulate what binds them. Truly. She hopes they do. They deserve happiness and Meryl knows she'll have space to follow them to the edge and end of the world even then. A step behind them, though, and if it's not the place she wishes it was, that's a her-only problem and she'd never let that ruin their friendship.

She inhales deeply, then exhales, nods at her own reflection and then marches out of the bathroom, just in time to see a pillow sail over Wolfwood’s head, barely missing. Meryl knows Vash had thrown it playfully, otherwise he’d never have missed, no matter how Nicholas tried to duck or dodge. She plants hands on her hips and tuts disapprovingly, though she has to press her lips in a thin line to suppress her smile.

Vash is next off to the bathroom, dodging the same pillow being thrown back and Meryl catches it instead. For a brief moment, she considers getting in the bed and smacking Wolfwood with it directly, but then thinks better of it. She literally just had spent a few minutes reminding herself that she ought not to blur the boundaries anymore just because of her whims.

Nicholas, of course, tries to challenge her anyway, leaning head on propped arm and quirking eyebrow at her, but she demonstratively sets the pillow down on the bed where it belongs and goes about packing up her bag. And just like that, the morning slips onto more familiar, calmer tracks.

---

It’s a mess of a night and a mess of a morning, she has to admit, but it’s theirs and it’s perfect even with the bittersweet feelings she’d had to swallow at times. She wouldn’t trade it for anything else. And the cake is the best she can remember eating, too.

“You look really happy, Meryl,” Vash comments, resting his head on his fist, watching her with a smile that goes all the way up to his bright eyes, makes them crinkle at the corners. A voice that sounds like her mother’s wants to remind him that you shouldn’t put your elbows on the table, but thankfully it’s almost entirely drowned out by the overlapping warmth and gushing at how cute he looks right now.

She considers briefly dismissing it with a joke, but she knows he’d see through it and her heart feels translucent like the prism of light dancing across the tablecloth, making it simple… Simpler to be honest. “I am,” Meryl admits and has to look away from Vash's brilliant smile widening.

“Guess we gotta feed her cakes more often then,” Wolfwood comments, just as he steals another forkful from hers, but Meryl doesn't even protest. If she opens her mouth, she will end up saying it's them that make her the happiest and the ease between them will shatter.

It does, anyway, with shouts and the sound of gunfire from outside.

Immediately, Vash and Nicholas spring to their feet. "Go to our room, wait it out. We will fetch you when it's over," Vash says with urgency, giving her a push in the direction of the stairs and she nods, feeling the weight of her uselessness even as she races to the second floor.

Instead of being able to keep them safe, watch their backs, she gets the pointless, painful task of waiting and hoping they will come back to her mostly whole. Her hand moves to her derringer, the solid form and coolness of it comforting as she pulls it out.

Meryl slips into the room and presses against the side of the window, careful so she will not be easily spotted from below. There are a few people in all too familiar suits, masks on their faces, marching down the street and her heart jumps into her throat. What is the Eye of Michael looking for here?

Because they clearly are. At every building, one of them splits off from the rest and enters, breaking or gunning down the door if necessary. She hears the sound of gunfight in the distance, wonders if that's where Vash or Nicholas has engaged another group.

Instead of an answer to any of those questions, she gets to watch one of the masked figures enter the hotel. There is shouting downstairs and a gun being fired, a scream, but one of fear more than pain.

Meryl strains her hearing, but cannot pick up any other sounds after that for several minutes. The Eye of Michael lackey has not left, at least not through the front door, and her heart is beating in her throat.

Then she hears someone jiggle the door handle. Once, twice.

Meryl holds her breath and trains the gun at the door. Her grip is steady, far more than she feels at the moment.

"Mom?"

The child's voice is soft and trembling and it sends a shock of fear through Meryl. She thinks of the soft eyed, light haired boy in the photo Nicholas had showed her once, thinks of Rollo, who had grinned in Vash's arms until men like the one downstairs had taken him away and -

She rushes to the doors, fumbles with the key. By the time she gets it open, there is no one there anymore and she peers down the corridor, spots a small form further away, almost by the stairs.

"Kid!" she calls as softly as she can. The child stops and looks back at her, rubbing at his red and wet face with his fists.

"Come here," she reaches with her left hand, hiding the gun behind her back and trying to look as sweet and inviting as she can when shaking apart with worry. For this kid, the two men fighting out there, the people downstairs. "Quietly," she adds, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Miss, do you know where my mom is?" The young boy takes a few steps in her direction, but he isn't very quiet at all. She tries to shush him again as she moves towards him.

"I need to find my mom, I don't remember which is our room." His lip wobbles and she can tell a heartfelt cry coming when she sees one. She takes a few more hurried steps toward the boy.

"I will help you find her, but after the big noises downstairs are gone, deal?" She offers the boy her hand and the most sincere smile she can muster, just as heavy steps start to move toward the stairs.

The child blessedly decides to trust her and grabs onto her with a clammy, snotty hand, but she knows they're out of time, so Meryl picks him up instead, breaking into a sprint. She'd never realized how long the corridor is, feels until now with the sound of someone rushing toward them.

She sees a shadow at the top of the stairs just as she is closing the door. The sound of the key turning in the lock sounds so damn loud in her ears and she sets the boy down quickly. "Hide, please. Under the bed or in the closet. And don't come out until someone you know tells you it's okay.”

He holds onto her sleeve for a moment, eyes full of tears, and then nods, hurrying toward the closet. She takes her spot in the middle of the room again, raising her gun.

She can't do anything for Vash or Wolfwood, but maybe she can keep this child safe. She has to.

Meryl listens to the heavy footsteps, hears them pass their door and the cracks of wood splintering under a kick and then another. From the lack of screaming and struggle as the person gives the other room a quick, violent rummage, she surmises it had been empty.

And then the steps are back, in front of her door. Their door.

The first kick splits the wooden pane almost in half. The second sends it flying off the hinges and inward, making her stumble backward.

The figure is tall, taller than she expected, and approaches rapidly. She aims for his legs, fires. One bullet goes in his foot and the other in his calf. He doesn't slow at all, but lets out a guttural growl, shoulders slouching like a beast about to jump.

In a second, a huge hand has her by the throat and lifted off the ground. She struggles in the grasp, claws at it with one hand, but she might as well be trying to impact a steel fortress while her vision darkens.

Mustering all of her strength, Meryl twists the derringer in her hand and slams it down on the assailant's wrist. Break, you fucker.

And for a split second, it is almost like it has worked, because the hold loosens and then she is flying, flying through the glass pane and into the blue sky and the sun is in her eyes, turning everything blindingly white-

#trigun stampede #trigun #mashwood #vashmeryl #merylwood #stryfewood #my fic #rainy writes stuff

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