#new tag for when I reblog something Capri would do

[waywardrose-archive]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 8

stranger things | eddie munson x reader | rated e | 8.9k

spotify playlist | for @punk-in-docs​​​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This chapter’s got everything: fantasy sharing, insecurities, intimacy, horrible parents, Capri-Sun, and smut! 🖤 Check the #em tagd tag ⬇️ for previous chapters! Please comment (or critique), like, and reblog. I truly do appreciate any and all interaction. I promise I don’t bite — unless you want me to.

-

8

Eddie sat across from you in another diner for second breakfast. The sun blasted through the thin cafe curtains to warm your side. He’d said little during packing or check-out. Your gaze kept snagging on his. He’d present a quirk of his lips. You’d grin and go back to whatever you were doing.

He appeared to be mulling over something. You doubted he regretted having sex. You certainly didn’t, even though you felt deliciously used. Maybe because you felt deliciously used.

When the waitress took your order, you opted for coffee — just like Eddie. She returned with an insulated carafe, mugs, and creamers.

With a gentlemanly flourish, Eddie said, “Milady, may I pour you a cup of our finest bean juice?”

You smiled.

“Why, good sir, I’d be delighted.”

He left enough space at the top of the mug for cream and sugar. As you seasoned, he poured for himself. You watched his nimble fingers as he went about seasoning his coffee. Your gut tightened as you remembered those fingers had made you come, those hands had cupped your breasts. You watched his lips as he swallowed. You had kissed those lips. You had sucked a faint hickey on that neck.

Before he could catch you staring, you sipped at your coffee. You met his gaze over the rim, though. Light reflected off the table, causing his eyes to turn mahogany. You’d seen those eyes dark and hazy with desire.

You wondered if he had the same thoughts as you. Did he keep picturing you under him? Had he memorized your sounds? The way his come looked on your skin?

His stomach gurgled, which made you both laugh.

“Guess pop and chips don’t last long,” he said, hand over his stomach.

“We burned a lot of calories this morning.”

He gave you a devious smirk.

“We did.”

You found his leg under the table and crossed your ankles around it. He pressed his calf to yours as he drank his coffee.

.

You were nearly at the Indiana border when he lowered the music to half-ask:

“This is going to sound stupid, but that wasn’t your first time.”

You laughed — short, but loud. “No, obviously.”

“Then I gotta ask: Is it always like that?”

“Like what?”

“Intense? Hot?”

From anyone else, you’d think that flattery. From Eddie, it felt genuine. It was still flattering, of course. You liked the thought of rocking his world.

“Could ask you the same,” you said as you took off your sunglasses since the sky was becoming more overcast the farther east you drove.

He adjusted his position in his seat, putting an elbow on the windowsill. He’d also blocked the view of his crotch with a lifted knee. You changed your grip on the steering wheel as tension rose.

“For the record, no,” he said. “I’m not, uh— I’m not the most experienced guy.”

“I’m not the most experienced girl.”

“So, you’re saying we lucked out back there?”

“Or maybe we lived up to each other’s expectations?”

“You had expectations?”

“I told you I’ve fantasized about you.”

“What do you, you know, fantasize about?”

There had been so many in the past few weeks. From rough to tender. Sometimes it wasn’t even about sex. Sometimes you thought of sitting with him and talking. Just talking. Maybe holding hands. Those scenarios didn’t turn you on, per se. They were a comfort, especially after the nightmares of red lightning and cold soot and chittering of unseen predators. Nightmares where vines wrapped around your limbs until you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Nightmares of mental vivisection. Nightmares as warnings.

You couldn’t tell him that. There was nothing he could do about them. Only you could face those dreams, because they had a message you alone could decipher.

But dreams had meaning, and he’d had dreams about you.

You asked, “What about those dreams I supposedly invaded?”

“No suppose about it. You had.”

“Had. Past tense.”

“And will again. Believe me, this entire trip is gonna haunt me.”

You wouldn’t forget this trip for a long time, either — maybe ever. However, the way he said it had a touch of grief.

“You make it sound so... grim?”

“Look, we’re going back to Hawkins...”

“‘There is no real going back,’” you said, quoting Tolkien. “‘Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same.’”

You glanced at him again to see his fist pressed to his mouth.

He finished the passage:

“‘I am wounded with knife, sting, tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?’”

You sighed. “Do you want to go back to how it was? Like we’d never done it?”

“Hell no.”

“Then why are you talking like things won’t be different in Hawkins? We’re different now.”

He was silent for too long. You looked at him once more. He stared out the windshield, face blank. You steeled yourself for his excuses to rationalize rejection, fishing a Djarum from the fresh pack and sticking it between your lips. He pushed in the car’s cigarette lighter for you.

Softly, he said, “It’s not that I don’t want it to be different, but I’m trying to be a realist here.”

“Oh, so you’re the only one with that capability in this car?”

“No, what I’m saying is the reality of being together in front of the whole school isn’t good. For you.”

You shot him a glare.

“The fuck?”

“No, hear me out. In Chicago, we’re just people. There’s no baggage. There is baggage — capital-b baggage — in Hawkins.”

The cigarette lighter popped, ready. You snatched it from the dash before he could and lit your cigarette.

“I get it. People are dicks—” You shoved the lighter in its holder. “—And you’re being one right now,” you said, cracked the window, and exhaled.

“I am trying to protect you.”

“By pushing me away?!” Your fists strained around the steering wheel. “Dammit, Eddie, don’t you get it? I want you! I want to get to know you and talk about stuff. And watch stupid TV.” You waved a hand in the air. “And, okay, have sex when we can. I...” You took a long drag from the cigarette to keep from crying. “I don’t care if the whole school knows about us, alright? We know about us.”

He crossed his arms.

“I’m not pushing you away.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“It’s hard to forget a lifetime of bullshit.”

“I’m not asking you to forget it,” you said as you ashed the cigarette through the open window.

“I know, okay, I know.”

He retrieved a Djarum. You offered yours to light his. He took it with a ‘thanks,’ pressed the cherry to the unlit cigarette, and handed it back.

You said, “I know you’re an outcast. I pay attention at school, you know? I’m not deaf or blind.”

“Or stupid.”

“Neither are you.”

You smoked and navigated the interstate off-ramp and tried to think of something to soothe both your ruffled feathers. Evidently, he had been thinking the same thing, because he grumbled:

“I guess nothing has to change.”

“Right? You have lunch with your friends. We go to O’Donnell’s class. We hang out after school—”

“That’ll be different.”

“That bad?”

“No.”

“Cool,” you said. “And sometimes I go to The Hideout to watch you play. That’s it.”

“When would you want to... you know?”

“Whenever we can?” You shrugged and ground your spent cigarette in the ashtray. “My parents have date nights. What about your uncle?”

“He works second or third shift.”

“See? We’ll be together when we can.”

“But you get where I’m coming from, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” You looked to see his expression had softened. “I know you want to protect me, but I’m not one of your little sheep. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” You held out your hand, which he took. “I’m not new at being a weirdo.”

You threw him a wry grin.

He deposited the butt of his cigarette in his empty soda can, leaned closer, and brought your hand to his lips for a kiss.

You smiled at him.

“So, you told me about a dream,” you said and wet your lips. “The one where O’Donnell is Samwise. What about another?”

“Shit, I... I don’t really remember. That one stood out.”

He was blushing and too still, which most likely meant he was lying.

You gently withdrew your hand, saying, “Tell me about the latest one.”

After a beat, he said, “You know those dreams that are jarring? Like a bunch of snapshots pieced together? It was like that.”

“Scary or sexy? Or both?”

“Sexy. Deeeefinitely sexy.”

“Okay, and...?”

“I woke up— Shit.” He rubbed his face. “I was so hard.”

You bit your lip as heat spread through your body. You pictured him like that: in his dark, messy room, waking with a gasp, his cock throbbing and oozing.

“What did you do?” you asked.

“I jacked off.”

His ‘duh’ was silent, but undoubtably there.

Despite the brief retort, you grinned.

“To what? What did you imagine?”

“Fuck, baby.” He put a hand between his legs. “You, okay? I thought of you.”

“Was I naked?”

He hummed. “Naked, your ass bouncing against me.”

“I was riding you?”

“No, bent over. I held your forearms and fucked you from behind. Shit, I...” His breathing deepened. “I got my dick in so deep, and you squeezed around me, moaning for it. And I pushed you down. Your ass in the air for me.” He covered his eyes. “I spanked it, too.”

“I’d let you do that,” you said as your cunt pulsed.

“Yeah? You into that?”

“With you, yeah.”

“Yeah, holy shit, we can do that. I came in you, too. Watched it drip out of your little pussy.”

You whispered, “Fuck.”

You squirmed in your seat, underwear stuck to your now-wet slit. That had been more than you thought you’d hear. You could see it, too, almost feel it: his pelvis slapping the underside of your ass, his cock ramming deep, his strong hands on your arms, then at the center of your back, then cracking against your upturned ass.

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” he said. “But I really can’t say no to you.”

You met his eyes, his gaze dark and hungry. You must’ve looked the same, because he cursed.

“Come home with me,” you said and forced your attention to the road.

“Wha—”

“Come home with me. My parents won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

You frowned. Most guys would’ve jumped at the chance to have sex again. Did he think that wasn’t on the table? Because that was very much on the table. If he told you to pull over and get in the backseat, you would. There hadn’t been another car on this stretch of road in nearly ten minutes.

Perhaps he had deliveries to make. It was Saturday night, after all.

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said, giving him an open look. “I get it if you’ve got plans or whatever. I can take you home.”

Ahead, leaden clouds gathered. A storm was settling in. If he were to make deliveries tonight, he would get soaked...

-

Eddie hoped it wasn’t obvious he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It probably was, though. You had a glow. Your eyes shone in the midday light, lips still puffy. There might be prettier girls out there, but they couldn’t compare to your radiance.

No one had kissed him like you kissed him. You made him feel like his thoughts had been put in a blender. He felt invincible yet defenseless, accepted yet under scrutiny, but most of all treasured.

He didn’t know if that was normal. His parents hadn’t seemed to treasure each other. He thought Wayne loved him. He loved Wayne. His flock looked to him for guidance. His bandmates treated him as an equal. None of that compared to what he felt for you.

He didn’t know if he liked it, honestly. It disrupted everything. You’d occupied his thoughts before this. Now, he feared, you would dominate them.

Then what would happen when you discovered he was trailer trash?

You’d feel sorry for him, that’s what. Oh, poor Eddie living in a one-bedroom trailer with his uncle.

Fuck that. Fuck pity. And fuck fearing heartbreak.

Fear was the mindkiller.

The look you gave him begged him not to hide even as you rolled back your offer of another night together. He didn’t know how long you’d think that. It didn’t matter, either. That wasn’t up to him, however much he wished it were. You weren’t a character in a campaign.

“No, no plans,” he said as he scrubbed damp palms on his thighs.

“Oh, okay, well... I can still take you home.”

The first heavy drop of rain pinged on the roof.

“Wayne can pick me up from the park.”

“Eddie, it’s starting to rain.”

He knew that. He could see the freckled pavement and how dark clouds obscured the sun.

You turned on the headlights, saying, “It’s no big deal.”

Big deal or not, he’d look like a crazy person if he insisted you leave him at the park. In the middle of a storm. With no ride waiting for him.

He had to be strategic here.

“No, let’s go to your house,” he said. “I’ll give Wayne a call when we get in.”

You nodded.

“If that’s what you want.” You gave him a sweet smile. “I just want to spend more time with you.”

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t deny you. Not when you said adorable shit like that. Not when you were the first person to say anything like that to him. Not when the possibility of having you all to himself was available.

He cleared his throat, wishing he had more to drink.

“I wanna spend time with you, too.”

You looked at him again, your gaze so warm. That alone made whatever would happen in the future worth it.

Twenty minutes later, you drove past the Hawkins welcome sign. The storm let loose shortly thereafter. Instead of continuing east, you turned into the older section of Loch Nora, where brick houses sat back from the road and the utility lines were buried. Eddie’s spidey senses started tingling. He tried to recall ever having driven through this part of the neighborhood and found a vague sense of familiarity.

Richie Riches liked their nose candy, after all.

The wipers sloshed across the windshield. Beyond the windows, rain melted the light and blurred architecture. It didn’t change his awareness of how out of his element he was.

He wondered how he hadn’t noticed you were a rich girl. He’d been mindless to the Munson Doctrine, because ladies — especially pretty, smart, funny, rich girls — shit, he was screwed — like you were out of his league. It all made sense, too: moving from New York, the expensive cigarettes, your gently used car — which had probably been a parent’s — and your lack of a part-time job. You’d offered to buy drinks for his bandmates at The Hideout. You’d paid for the motel room, gas, and snacks. You hadn’t even blinked at prices or told him to put food back at the convenience store.

You turned onto a circular driveway. Ivy climbed the side of a sprawling red-brick house. An old oak grew nearby, its golden leaves scattered over the manicured grass. Eddie tried not to gawk at the three-car garage tucked to the side as you hit the door-opener remote.

The garage could accommodate his entire trailer.

There were two open bays, and you pulled in next to a glossy maroon sedan.

“Well, this is me,” you said, and turned off the car.

As nonchalantly as he could, he said, “Nice.”

“If you want, you can call your uncle.” You pointed to the interior door. “Phone’s in the kitchen next to the fridge.”

“No, I’ll help.”

“Oh, cool, thanks. I need to check the mail. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded and began gathering the food wrappers and empty drinks into a plastic bag. You left the driver’s door open before dashing to the mailbox. He shook the car’s ashtray into the bag, looked at the tidy garage, and cursed. He was so out of his element, beyond the edges of the map.

Here be dragons.

Here be the loaded.

Who were about as dangerous as dragons.

He hadn’t realized he’d stilled until you returned and closed the garage door. To act normal, he continued gathering until there was nothing more to gather. He shouldered his duffle and carried the plastic bag, following you into the house—

Which smelled of citrus and laundry detergent. The tile floor gleamed under the kitchen lights. Everything was so clean and proper and spacious. Floofy valences capped the windows. Paneled appliances blended with the cabinetry. The refrigerator had a built-in icemaker.

Your voice pulled him from touching the lever for ice.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you thirsty?” you asked — again.

“No, I’m good.” He glanced around, looking for the trashcan. “Need to throw this away,” he said as he swung the plastic bag.

“Yeah, of course!”

You took it to the sink cabinet, where you pulled out an under-counter trashcan. He watched your ass, but averted his gaze before you turned to him. The blinking 02 of the phone’s answering machine caught his attention.

He thumbed at it, and asked, “You want to check those?”

With a sigh, you dropped your bags on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“I guess I better.”

The first message was from your mother, dated yesterday at 4:18 PM. She reported they’d arrived without a hitch. With excitement growing in her voice, she said they were having dinner with Jerry Springer. However, she was concerned you weren’t home and gave the phone number and address of the hotel. The second message was from a telemarketer.

You grinned.

“She gave me all that before they left. I’ll talk to her after you call your uncle.” You bit your lip as you looked around. “Do you want to get settled first?”

“Up to you, milady.”

“C’mon, I’m on the third floor,” you said as you plucked your bags from the island.

“Your tower.”

With a laugh, you asked, “Ah, but am I a wizard or a spider?”

“Well, neither’s as hot as you, so there a third option?”

You hummed as you turned off the kitchen light. “You tell me.”

Only your silhouette was discernible in the gray murk, as though you were made of shadow. There was something mysterious and alluring about that. It made him want to reach into the darkness to feel what reached back. Rain drummed against the windows, tapping a persistent rhythm and softening the edges of the silence.

“Siren,” he said. “Definitely a siren.”

You blew a laugh through your nose as you stepped closer. “What does that make you?”

He thought, A sucker, a sailor, yours, ensnared.

He said, “I’ll get back to you about that.”

“Please do.”

You were now near enough to touch, so he did. He cupped your cheek, his thumb skirting the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted, and he couldn’t stop himself from caressing the curve of your bottom lip. Your beautiful eyes gleamed like glass.

He couldn’t believe you let him touch.

You leaned in and tilted your face to his. Your overnight bag nudged his leg, setting off a chain-reaction of memories. He’d kissed you in public. He’d shared a high with you. He’d lain next to you in a foreign bed. He’d chased you, caught you, and carried you back to that same bed — where you’d clawed at him and moaned his name and came on his dick.

He could have that again.

He met you midway, kissing you once, twice. He tasted smoky clove and soda on your tongue, smelled the rain in your hair. It was addictive. He wanted more. He dropped his duffle to snake an arm around your waist and pull you even closer. You swayed against him before dropping your bags. Your hand slid under his jacket, pushing away his previous uncertainty.

After a long, heady moment, you broke the kiss with a sigh. Your hand remained on his back while the other held the side of his neck.

Voice low, you said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Staying just as low, he said, “Yeah, call your parents, and I’ll call my uncle.”

“And then...”

You shrugged.

“And then,” he agreed.

He didn’t know what then, but he wanted to find out. He grabbed his duffle and your overnight bag from the floor, which you thanked him for. You led the way through the shadowy house to the grand staircase in the foyer. With your back turned, he let himself finally gawk.

Outside the kitchen, the floors were dark hardwood with lighter area rugs to define the spaces. The living room had a big-screen TV tucked into a corner with a velvet modular sofa oriented towards it. In the dining room, an honest-to-God crystal chandelier hung above the large table.

The second floor was as cushy with thick carpet and tasteful art. Not a family photo to be found. You pointed out your bathroom before opening the door next to it and flicking a switch at the foot of the stairs beyond. Golden light brightened the white stairwell.

He climbed the stairs behind you as the automatic door closer fizzed the door shut. He’d half-expected your bedroom walls to be some dark, moody color, yet they were white. However, posters covered most of the white, much like his own—

Though your room smelled better than his.

You clicked on the lamp by your big bed and on the dresser across the room before setting your purse on the desk under the wide window. His eye caught on the stereo cabinet between the dresser and double bookcase. He itched to peruse your vinyl and tape collection. You must’ve seen it on his face, because you smiled and gave him free rein.

“You sure?” he asked, dropping the bags near the bed.

“Yeah, go for it,” you said. “I’ll call my mom while you shop.”

He checked the time on the bedside clock. It was early afternoon despite it looking almost night outside. Wayne wouldn’t be awake for another hour.

“Cool.”

He crouched in front of the cabinet as you slipped off your jacket and sat at the desk, where a phone waited at the corner. He concentrated on the music in front of him while you talked on the phone. There was Bowie, classic Zeppelin and Rolling Stones, Deep Purple, INXS, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, Cocteau Twins, Depeche Mode, Sisters of Mercy (of course), Bauhaus, Metallica, Dio, and a bunch of indie goth bands.

Your voice sharpened, catching his attention.

“I told you I forgot to check the messages when I got home from school,” you said.

A male voice snapped through the phone. Obviously, your father.

“I stopped by the convenience store after school.”

Your father replied, though Eddie couldn’t make out the words.

“No, I wasn’t being irresponsible.” You rested your forehead in your hand. “I just didn’t check the mess—”

Your father interrupted, his voice getting sterner.

“Apologize to Mom for me, plea—” You took a deep breath as he interrupted again. “No, I didn’t—”

Your father said something to make you shoot to your feet, chair scraping across the floor.

Eddie straightened and took a step to you.

“I didn’t sigh,” you said. “I breathed. I do that sometimes, like—”

Your father’s voice became louder as he cut you off, ending the scathing reprimand with a ‘young lady.’ A panicked feminine voice said something in the background.

You were quiet for a beat.

Your voice was thick as you said, “I’m sorry. I was stupid and didn’t take you or Mom into account. I apologize, sir. Sincerely. It won’t happen again.”

Your father grumbled, sounding appeased.

“I’ll see you tomorrow— Yes, sir.” You nodded. “Good night, sir.” You slammed the phone’s handset on its base. “Asshole.”

“You okay?” he asked, which he belatedly realized was dumb.

Of course, you weren’t okay.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, ducking your head. “Call your uncle, if you want.”

You darted around him, too quick to stop, and rushed down the stairs to leave him gaping like a fish.

As the door shut, he didn’t know if he should follow. Maybe you needed a minute to yourself. When things were rough for him, he preferred to handle the aftermath alone. It gave him privacy to get his shit together.

He picked up the phone’s handset to call Wayne, which should give you enough time.

Instead of a dial tone, there was a garbled, muddy babble. It wasn’t words, per se. It was rhythmic, like a busy signal, but also an echo of language. Or a backwards phrase repeated.

“What the hell?”

He hung up and tried again, yet the babble remained. He pressed the hook switch a few times, though it didn’t solve the problem. Unplugging and re-plugging the phone didn’t help, either.

With a huff, he slung his jacket over the desk chair and went to the second floor to find you. A wedge of light from your open bathroom door illuminated the landing. You whined a curse and banged a small bottle against the side of the faucet.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said gently and reached for the bottle. “Let me.”

“Fucking childproof caps.” You stilled as your chin wobbled. You looked at the ceiling with watery eyes. “My head is killing me.”

He withdrew the bottle from your limp hand. It was a nonprescription painkiller. He lined up the triangle notches on the cap and bottle and popped it open.

“I should’ve taken something when we first got in.”

“You’ve had a headache this whole time?” he asked and shook three pills into his palm.

You croaked a ‘yeah’ and took the pills, putting them on your tongue and swallowing them with a mouthful of tap water.

At a loss for words, he put the bottle aside and pulled you into a hug. You rested your hot cheek on him and looped your arms around his middle. Your chest shuddered with sharp inhales. He rubbed your back, wondering why he hadn’t noticed you weren’t feeling well earlier.

Probably because he’d been too in his head about his insecurities and the possibility of future disasters.

“Dads are dicks,” you said once your breathing calmed.

He grunted in agreement. “Tell me about it.”

“He’s so concerned about me embarrassing him — embarrassing him more. Or doing something, I don’t know, just for me?”

Your father sounded like a controlling asshat.

“You’re not embarrassing. You’re the coolest person I know.”

Voice small, you asked, “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

You gave him an affectionate squeeze that he returned.

He said, “You missed a phone call. It happens all the time.”

“Yeah.”

“I can sleep through the phone ringing.”

“You’ve never missed my calls.”

“Of course not. I have a sixth sense about these things.”

You snorted. “Naturally.”

“Naturally.” He swayed you a little. “Uh, speaking of: your phone’s acting up.”

“Acting up?”

“Yeah, dial tone’s weird.”

“Huh.” You loosened your hold, yet kept your face tilted down. “It’s a new phone. Maybe I broke it.”

“I can use the kitchen phone,” he said.

“No!” You hugged him again, though your fingers now dug into his back. “No, it’s okay. I’ll fix it or replace it. Then you call your uncle while I get us something to drink.”

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your forehead.

“Hey, whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You sighed, sounding content. Tension drained from his neck and shoulders. He didn’t like you upset or in pain.

“Okay, phone,” you said despite not moving.

“Gonna have to let go of me first.”

You made a disgruntled sound before sliding your hands away. Your fingertips found his skin between his waistband and the hem of his shirt. Goosebumps rose at your easy caress. His gut tightened, too.

He leaned back to get his hands on your jaw and eased your head up for a kiss. Conscious of your headache, he stayed gentle. He brushed his lips across yours, nudged your cute nose with his. You grinned against his mouth. He opened his eyes to see your face relaxed.

Sounding dreamy, you whispered, “Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, you have.” You looked into his eyes as you pulled away. “You have.”

“Then you’re welcome,” he said, grinning.

With a smile — a tired smile, he noted — you took his hand to walk him out of the bathroom, turning off the light as you went. He trailed after you and felt like a puppy. Granted, if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Once in your room, you crawled under your desk to mess with the phone wall jack. You muttered to yourself, but he didn’t catch the words. He sat at the foot of your bed and stared at your upturned ass. It was a nice ass. He’d like to touch it again — maybe when you felt better.

You shuffled from under the desk and lifted the phone’s headset. The regular dial tone droned from the speaker.

“There,” you said and got to your feet.

“Wow.”

“You sound surprised. Like a girl can’t fix things.”

He held up his hands.

“No, that’s not—”

“Did you think I couldn’t handle it?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with humor as you approached.

At your teasing manner, he spread his knees and urged you close by the hips.

“Oh, baby, I know you can handle a lot.”

You bit your lip, looking pleased, and smoothed his hair from his face. He let out a deep breath, letting his eyes go half-mast. You yawned suddenly and covered your mouth, then wiped at an eye. It smudged your eyeliner a little, yet it hardly mattered. You were perfect and sweet.

“Sorry,” you said as you suppressed another yawn.

He turned his head to bury his own yawn in his shoulder.

“Want to take a nap?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Get in bed, then. I think I can figure out where you keep the drinks.”

“Call your uncle.”

“I will, sweetheart.”

He backed you up, stood, and gave you a quick kiss. You made a satisfied sound before kissing him again.

His heart couldn’t take this. It absolutely couldn’t. You were so adorable when sleepy. And he wanted to make you feel good any way you needed, any way you’d let him. He’d make you tea, fetch you extra blankets, rub your back, fork over his whole damn stash. Fucking anything. Anything.

He left you perched on the bed with the assurance he’d be right back. He made a pit stop in the bathroom to pee and wash his hands. In the kitchen, he found Capri-Suns in the fridge and grabbed a couple.

By the time he returned, you’d turned off most of the bedroom lights and were sitting in bed. He dumped the Capri-Suns on your nightstand save for one, stabbed the straw into the pouch, and gave it to you.

You thanked him and snuggled into the pillows.

He snatched a Capri-Sun for himself and turned away before he did something ill-advised, like kiss you too hard or propose marriage or worm between the sheets and yank your underwear off and eat you out until you cried. Maybe all three.

Instead, he drank his juice while calling Wayne, who sounded as if he’d been awake for a while. Wayne didn’t seem surprised when Eddie said he was at yours and would stay the night. Wayne asked for your number in case of an emergency. He recited it from memory.

Wayne reminded him to use protection.

He sputtered and averted his face as heat crawled up his neck.

He then cleared his throat before saying, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Good. No mini-Munsons just yet.”

“No, not yet.”

“Alright, kiddo, keep that thinkin’ cap on, and I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“‘Kay.”

Wayne ended the call, and he placed the phone’s handset on its cradle.

“Your uncle sounds nice,” you said.

“He’s a good guy.” He sat at the desk to slip off his boots. “Took me in when no one else would.”

“Their loss.”

He looked at you, finding you curled on your side and watching him.

“That’s what he said.”

You gave him a wry grin.

He remembered ‘two idiots, one thought,’ and grinned.

After stuffing his socks into a boot, he stood to undo his belt and unclasp his wallet chain. He lay his wallet on your desk and piled his jewelry on top, feeling your gaze the entire time. He draped his belt over the chair, turned off the last light, and came around the bed.

As he lifted the blanket, you rolled onto your back and asked:

“Aren’t you going to take off your jeans?”

“Do you want me to take them off?”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

With a shrug, he said, “I’m comfortable.”

“Eddie... I’ve seen your legs before.”

“And a whole lot more.”

“Yeah, so take them off and get in here.”

“Yes, milady.”

He left his jeans in a heap on the floor and slid under the blanket. It was already warm and smelled like you: your soap and shampoo, your perfume and musk, your laundry detergent, and that dark headshop scent. The sheets were soft as only fine cotton could be. The pillows were fluffy like his hadn’t been in years. He hardly needed to adjust anything.

You asked, “Comfy?”

“Almost.”

Your brows pinched.

“Almost?”

“Back to me,” he said. “If that’s cool.”

You gave a little nod, the corners of your mouth curling up, and faced away. He closed the short distance to mould himself against your back; a hand on your hip with his other arm crooked under his pillow. You stiffened, yet didn’t protest.

“This okay?” he whispered.

“Mm-hm.”

Little by little, you relaxed and adjusted your legs. He matched your even breathing until his eyelids became heavy.

He’d never held someone. He’d been to sleepovers and slept next to friends, but this was different. Last night he’d stayed close, but hadn’t held you — though he’d yearned to. He hadn’t wanted to spook you, as if you’d realize who he was, remember what you’d done with him, and flee in disgust.

But this? This felt right. You were warm and soft against his front. You fit him.

.

A crash of thunder jolted him awake. He lifted his head to look around. The room was still dim from the storm. You weren’t in bed, which he didn’t approve of. You stood in front of the dresser, hanging a necklace on the jewelry stand.

You met his gaze in the mirror.

“Hi, honey.”

He wiped at his face with a groan.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy. “What time is it?”

You glanced at the nightstand and reported it was 5:32.

He grunted and flopped onto his back. “How long you been awake?”

“Maybe ten minutes?”

You wore a new pair of pajama pants under the t-shirt you’d napped in. They were cute. You were cute. He wanted to wrap his arms around you.

“Come back to bed,” he said as he scratched his stomach through his shirt.

“I need to finish unpacking.”

He rose onto his elbows as thunder rumbled.

“Did you mean come back to bed?”

“No,” you laughed.

He drew out an ‘I don’t know’ and knee-walked to the foot of the bed.

You spun to face him, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I need to unpack, sir.”

“That sounded a lot like ‘take me to bed.’”

He planted one foot on the floor and rose from the bed.

“Those don’t even have the same amount of words,” you said.

“I guess I have a bad ear for that.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

As he prowled to you, he asked, “You calling me a liar?”

“No, I think you knock your own talents when it suits you.”

“Oh, ouch, sweetheart,” he said, and put his hands on your hips to back you against the dresser. “You wound me.”

You attempted to hide your smirk and asked, “Should I kiss it better?” while bracing your hands on the dresser.

Though he’d been sleeping next to you, he hadn’t gotten to touch you enough. He pushed himself against you, making you arch. Your breasts pressed against him.

“Later.”

His dick grew heavy, and he bent to kiss your covered chest. He worked his way up until he reached your neck.

You softly groaned with a tilt of your head.

You were his now — with no one to interrupt. Your skin was his to taste — and he did. He kissed the salt from your skin, trailed his teeth down the cord of muscle at the side of your neck.

You fisted his hair and brought his mouth to yours. Your lips smeared across his, your tongue peeked out, tasting of Capri-Sun’s fruit punch. He could devour you whole like this. His hips copied the back and forth of the kiss. God, his dick felt strained and hot between his legs.

You began to slide onto the dresser top, but he stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said. “Turn around.”

Barely giving you enough room, you turned in his hold, rubbing against his front. His gut tightened. He caged you in with his arms and nosed around your hair to kiss your neck again. You smelled so good, like sleep and spice.

He looked at the mirror to see you biting your lip and watching him. He straightened, keeping his front to your back. His erection snugged into the cleft of your ass.

You rested against him, looking more alluring than he’d ever seen you.

He murmured a ‘fuck’ and slid his hands up your sides, catching your flimsy t-shirt as he went.

“You wearing a bra, baby?”

You shook your head, making him curse lowly.

He ran his hands over the satiny skin of your stomach. Your nipples poked underneath your shirt. He stared at their reflection, remembering the feel of your tits in his hands and against his face, the way your nipples jabbed at his palms. He needed to refresh his memory, needed to brand the feel of your flesh in his hands.

When he cupped your tits, you inhaled. He stroked your warm skin with gentle fingertips, kneaded the supple weight of your breasts, then grazed his thumbs over your peaked nipples. Your ribs undulated gracefully with your breathing; so alive and all his.

You arched into his touch, putting your hands on his forearms. He squeezed your nipples and rolled them just a little. You moaned and ground your ass against him.

He ground back, moving counter to you. The inside of his boxers rubbed at his length. Precome made the thin cotton stick to the tip of his dick.

“Eddie...” you whined as you canted your ass.

“How’s the headache?”

“Gone.”

Before he could reply, you nudged him to the side and spun to face him. You steadied his head by the jaw to kiss him hard. It was like you wanted to eat his soul. You kissed him with tongue and teeth and spit. He held onto your bare back, because his knees trembled. He hoped you couldn’t tell. Your lips were perfect. Your skin was warm and soft. He wouldn’t mind if this was all you two did for the rest of the night.

Your hands left his jaw, and you broke the kiss to say, “Want you.”

His gut tightened again.

“Where?” he asked as he swept his hands down to your ass.

You pulled up at his shirt until he had to lift his arms. You tugged the shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

Cooler air cleared his head, but then you ran your hands over his shoulders and into his hair. He kissed you, feeling breathless and buzzing, vibrating like a tuning fork. Your parted lips lured him closer — that siren status confirmed.

You touched him from neck to chest to stomach to the waistband of his underwear. The moment dilated as anticipation increased. He wanted to roll his hips to get you to touch his cock.

Instead, you went to your knees.

He slapped a hand on the dresser to steady himself. Because holy shit. No one had ever— But you were— And, holy shit, he was going to come so fast.

“Okay?” you asked, as if you didn’t look like a wet dream.

He nodded numbly.

You kissed above his bellybutton, nuzzled his stomach, caressed his hips and sides. He lurched forward when you squeezed his ass. His cock bumped your chest, sending a ripple of sensation down to his toes. You palmed him through his boxers to make his knees tremble anew. He thrust into your hand and bit his lip. The muffled touch was enough to weaken him further.

You crooked your fingers under his boxers’ waistband to ease them down his thighs. His erection flopped out, almost hitting you in the cheek like some gangly appendage. He whispered an apology, but you replied it was okay. You called him honey, and he had to swallow a groan.

With gentle hands, you helped him step out of his boxers. Then he was naked save for his sole necklace. You purred and ran your hands up his thighs. He got harder, which seemed impossible, and the room heated — or he was so hot, he couldn’t feel it anymore. Your touch practically seared him.

You moved in to lick the precome now dribbling down the length of his cock. He put a hand on your shoulder to balance himself. It was a shock how good it felt: the velvety texture of your tongue and the tease of your breath ghosting over his dick.

You then steadied his cock with fingers around the base and wrapped your mouth around the tip. He moaned at the heat, the way you burned him with muggy, hot suction. You tongued at the crown as you twisted your head. Your spit-wet lips clasped around his girth. The head of his cock slid along the hard roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back.

If he thrust, you’d gag and sputter. He didn’t want you retching. He didn’t want you to stop.

He rocked with you, and that had you moaning. He kept tight control of his movements, only nudging the same place of your soft palate.

“This what you want?” he asked. “Want me to fill your pretty mouth?”

He’d fantasized about doing it, too. He imagined how your cheeks would hollow as you sucked, how you’d hold his driving hips, how you’d take every inch of him.

You hummed an affirmative before fisting the base of his cock. He rolled his pelvis forward as you closed your eyes. Your smothered groan reverberated through him, making it difficult to keep it slow and easy.

Shit, he loved the way his cock pumped into your mouth again and again. Saliva drenched your chin. Your hand on his hip pulled him forward, urging him to thrust faster despite his intentions. You sucked and lapped, getting him all slick.

“You’re gonna make me come...”

You moaned an agreement.

He stilled his hips and gripped the nape of your neck.

“Shit, wanna fuck you.”

Because he did. He wanted inside your sweet pussy once more. He couldn’t get enough.

You moaned again and met his gaze. He couldn’t stop from shifting his hips, teasing you both. You whined around his dick, and he nearly forgot his earlier desire.

“So good to me.”

You sucked harder and pushed your tongue on the underside of his dick. It made his eyes roll back. It was so perfect, so good, he could lose himself and spill down your throat.

But, no... No—

He pulled your head away with a gasp, back hunched. Your mouth remained open, a thin string of spittle connected your bottom lip with this cock. Beyond that, the neckline of your t-shirt sat askew on your heaving chest. He wanted to shove himself in your hot mouth until your nose met his stomach, or to fuck your tits — or your tight pussy.

Shit, whatever.

He wanted you so bad.

As he caught his breath, you flicked your tongue out to taste him one more time.

He inhaled through his nose.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.

You licked your swollen lips with a nod. Your eyes were huge and glassy, drunk on him. He pulled you up as he bent to meet in the middle for a sloppy kiss. The spit and precome on his dick smeared across his stomach. He wiped at the saliva on your chin and fed it back to you.

“So sweet, baby.”

You mewled around his fingers in reply.

He hoisted you to your feet and kissed your talented lips. You stumbled a bit against him, knees obviously numb and stiff, and held onto his shoulders. He shushed you, wrapped an arm around your waist, and cradled your warm cheek.

“I got you,” he said.

You nodded, saying, “Take me to bed.”

He grinned, which you returned.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, and walked you backwards to the bed.

Once there, he turned you around, urged you up, and told you to bend. Your pajama pants hid your ass and thighs, but your t-shirt slid up your back to expose the feminine curve of your torso. He swept his hand down your spine. You lowered your chest to the bed, your ass jutted out to graze his cock. He took hold of your hips and ground himself against you.

“Eddie...”

He grabbed the globes of your ass to knead them. You hummed and wiggled. Then he gave one cheek a grazing smack. You gasped as your flesh jiggled.

“Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Do it again.”

And he did.

You groaned softly and shimmied to encourage him to continue. However, he didn’t want to get distracted. He felt the heat between your legs and needed more. He pulled your pants and underwear to your knees, then kissed the small of your back.

With a shaky, needful voice, you said, “Please, don’t make me wait.”

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

You breathed a laugh.

He smoothed his hands up your thighs to frame your ass. He could eat you up, you looked so delicious. Your skin was so fine. He kissed one cheek, then the other.

You made a small, desperate sound. In response, he nosed at the crease where your leg met ass. He breathed in the heady scent of your arousal and musk. It had his pelvis flexing, cock twitching.

You arched to push against his face. He spread your tender pussy to see it all flushed and wet.

“Sucking my cock got you so worked up.”

You froze.

He said, “God, that’s fucking hot,” and dragged his tongue between the glistening folds of your pussy.

You moaned.

He licked up to the little furl of your asshole. Your breath hitched. He did it over and over, licking all your holes. You ground against his mouth, trying to get more. He angled your hips, tucked his face between your legs, and swirled his tongue around the petite bud of your clit.

You gasped a few ‘please’s and his name, but he didn’t want to stop. He sucked on your clit, its hood. You spread your legs as far as your pants would allow and tried to ride his face.

“Eddie, c’mon! Please—!”

You muffled the rest in the mattress.

He pulled away, and you moaned with disappointment.

“What was that?” he asked before swallowing the salty-sweet taste of you.

“Please, I...”

“Whatever you want.”

“Please fuck me.”

He cursed loudly as a surge of pleasure raced down his spine. He clenched every muscle below his bellybutton to keep from coming right there. Resting his forehead on your ass, he breathed through the near miss.

When the surge abated, he scrambled for a condom. He told you to hang on as he tore through his duffle to find the condom box. In the meantime, you snuck a hand between your legs to play with your clit.

He almost came again at the sight.

At this rate, he was skittering into two-pump-chump territory.

Holy shit, don’t think of pumping.

He found a condom, ripped it open, and rolled it on — all the while thinking of roadkill and long division and the dirty dishes he’d left in the sink. He then took hold of your pants and underwear, tugging at them and sending you forward.

You meeped, yet squirmed to help undress from the waist down.

He tossed the clothes away, crawled over your prone body, and settled above you. With his dick nestled right against your sopping pussy, he rocked his hips. He couldn’t help himself — especially not when you rocked back. You were slick and hot and so ready.

He mouthed at your neck. The bite of your sweat added to the intoxicating taste of you on his tongue.

He realized then your rocking had a purpose: you were attempting to catch the tip of his dick. You made a tiny distressed sound as you continued to fail.

He shushed you. “I got you.”

“Want you.”

“Me too, baby.”

He reached between your bodies to angle his cock just right. You tilted your hips at the same time. It felt like wild magic to push inside you with one long stroke. Your cunt was tight and silky hot around him. He let his head fall forward with a groan. You quivered under him as though on the verge of orgasm.

He kissed and nibbled his way up your neck until reaching your ear. He sucked on the lobe and kissed the corner of your jaw.

“Eddie...”

“You ready?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Talk to me, baby.” He kissed your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me. I want it.” Your cunt squeezed around him, and he couldn’t tell if it was voluntary. “Take me, make me come.”

His stomach swooped. Your words spurred him on. He drew out just enough before letting the full weight of his lower half drop. You panted a ‘yes’ and braced. He set a punishing pace, fucking you in earnest. The clutch of your cunt had him losing himself to the rhythm. He didn’t care, not minding to drown in you.

You buried your face in the mattress, muting your growing moans. He needed to hear you, though. He gripped your neck and tilted your head back. You tensed with a startled gasp and clawed at the bedding.

He’d felt you tense like that before and knew what it meant.

“Gonna come, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t stop!”

He ignored the burn in his muscles as he hammered his cock deep. You struggled under him, breath ragged, ass grinding. Then you let out a sharp cry. You shook against him, shrieking curses as your cunt quivered and gushed around him.

With a growl, he cupped your jaw to keep your head against his shoulder. He pistoned his hips faster and harder. You rasped out a stunned, drawn-out ‘fuck’ as your orgasm continued to unravel. Your scalding, drenched cunt milked him until it started to be too much.

He couldn’t catch his breath as every muscle locked up. Ecstasy simmered at the base of his spine, growing hotter with each clap of his hips meeting yours. It was a staccato beat to his groans. Then it all boiled over. He gritted his teeth and threw back his head as climax poured out of him. He felt scalded from the inside out.

All that remained was his singed heart beating out the syllables of your name.

He sagged on his elbows and lay his damp face on your rucked t-shirt. There were probably things he needed to say or do now, but he couldn’t remember them. He didn’t think he could form words between his harsh breathing.

Your soothing fingers touched his cheek, his temple. He turned his head to kiss them.

When his erection started flagging, he held the condom and pulled out slowly. You gave a wordless protest, yet didn’t stop him from rolling onto his back beside you. He should tie off the condom and dispose of it. He knew that. However, he didn’t want to look away.

In the mottled light from the window, your skin shone with sweat, your hair was in disarray — no doubt like his — and your eyeliner was a mess.

With no small amount of pride, he privately admitted he enjoyed being the cause of that.

You met his eyes and smiled lazily as rain pelted the glass.

He took your limp hand and pulled it. You grumbled, but scooted closer to rest against his side.

“Goddamn,” he said. “Thanks for that.”

You laughed, “You’re welcome,” and put an arm around his middle.

“Want to order a pizza?”

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Wolf in the Castle

Pairing: Charles Blackwood x fem!Reader

Words: 4110

Summary: You arrive at Blackwood Manor to find an unexpected visitor disrupting the sensitive ecosystem of the small family.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering unprotected vaginal sex), very minor violence (brief mention of blood), mention of committing crimes, SMUT, 18+ ONLY!

A/N: I’ve been binging a bunch of Seb Stan movies over the past few days as I finish my week off, and Charles Blackwood kind of struck me. I really enjoyed this fic and hope you do too!

Will reblog later with tags (join my taglist here!)

not my gif

Alright, what the hell? You thought to yourself as you pulled up to Blackwood manor.

There was a strange red convertible in the driveway. Constance and Merricat never had visitors aside from the Clarkes and you. You frowned to yourself as you climbed out of your sedan, picking up the books and flowers from the passenger seat as you went to knock on the front door.

Constance greeted you with one of her beaming smiles that always managed to break your heart a bit.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you! I know Merricat has been looking forward to you coming to visit. You’ll have to excuse us, our cousin Charles has come to stay with us unexpectedly, so we didn’t have enough time to prepare a room for you.”

“Constance, you don’t need to apologize!” You chided as you followed her into the receiving room. “You’re certain this visit won’t be a strain, now that you have another houseguest?”

“Oh, nonsense! Merricat would never forgive me if I sent you away! I see you brought her some new books. And are those lilies?”

“Lilies, cherry blossoms, and lilacs. I remembered they’re your favorites!” You gave her a warm smile as you handed her the bouquet and set the books on one of the end tables.

“Thank you so much! Oh! Y/N, this is our cousin, Charles Blackwood! Charles, this is Merricat’s tutor, and our very good friend, Y/N.”

You extended your hand to the man who had just entered the receiving room and he pressed his lips to your knuckles with a charming smile. His blue eyes took you in as he leaned back against the rear of the couch. You were a stark contrast to Constance’s proper and domestic appearance. You were wearing a pair of tight white capris and a gingham blouse that you had tied in a knot just above the waistline of your pants.

You gave him an appraising look of your own. He was relaxed in a cream linen suit. His soft chestnut waves slicked back from his face as he gave you a smirk. He had an air of easy allure about him that made you uneasy. 

You didn’t trust him a bit.

“So nice to meet you, Charles.” You murmured as he stared at you.

“Y/N!” Merricat came tearing into the receiving room and leapt on you, wrapping her arms around you in a desperate embrace and making you laugh. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Mary, you’re being incredibly inappropriate.” Charles was no longer smiling as he watched your young student chatter at you giddily, her hands and knees smudged with dirt from the garden.

“Please, it’s fine.” You grinned at him as Merricat shot him a poisonous glare over her shoulder. “I’ve brought you some new books Merricat, ‘Transcendental Magic’ and several encyclopedias of poisonous plants of the United States and Canada.”

“Oh, thank you!” Merricat ran her fingers over the book covers lovingly when you handed them to her. “Will you join me in the woods to look for some of these?”

“Dear girl, I would love to. But first I need to bring in my suitcases and unpack.” Constance was still beaming between the two of you as her sister opened the book on magic and started to read. Charles looked incredibly disapproving though, and that made you smile for some reason. “I think it’s a little too late for us to venture out tonight anyways, so why don’t you help me bring in the rest of my things, and tomorrow we can make a whole day of it! We’ll bring a picnic and everything!”

Merricat grinned at you before she ran off to put away her new treasures, taking the steps two at a time.

“You shouldn’t encourage the girl.” Charles mumbled under his breath, scowling at you.

“I think it’s lovely how Merricat light’s up whenever Y/N is here.” Constance started to say, but her words died off and her smile took on a certain strain as Charles turned his disapproving gaze to her.

“Exactly what harm is she doing?” You asked, turning to the man with a tired expression. “The girl is exceptionally bright, and I refuse to stifle her. She could be turning that energy into something far more destructive if she isn’t given a proper outlet.” You murmured, shooting a knowing glance at Constance.

“Very well.” He grumbled. “Just make sure she’s washed up for dinner. Constance has made us a lovely meal, I won’t have the girl spoiling it.”

You considered questioning Constance about her cousin once he left to work his way up to his room, but she just gave you another smile and turned to head to the kitchen and finish her preparations. Merricat came bursting through the front door then, looking slightly comical as she tried to maneuver your two cases at once. You hurried to assist her and the two of you headed up to the guest room.

Once you reached the guest room, the two of you set to unpacking your things.

“When did your cousin arrive, Merricat?” You asked as you hung up some of your dresses and she arranged your makeup and perfumes on the vanity.

You saw her shoulders tense when you mentioned Charles. Jonas had followed the two of you and was winding his way through Merricat’s legs. She picked him up and held him close to her chest.

“He came here unbidden and is most unwelcome.” She whispered harshly as she avoided making eye contact with you. “I believe he is making Uncle Julian sicker, and he intends to take Constance from me.”

You stood up to embrace the girl, hoping to soothe her. You smoothed your hands over her hair as she buried her face in your chest.

“Dear girl. Are you sure about these things?” She was incredibly overprotective of her remaining family members, but you couldn’t deny the man made you uncomfortable too.

She just nodded into your shoulder.

“Well, we’ll just have to do our best to make sure he leaves then, won’t we?” You tipped her chin up to face you and she gave a small smile of relief. “Now, I’m going to take a bath before dinner, you should get cleaned up as well. We don’t want to arouse any suspicions.”

She gave you a serious nod and scurried off to her room as you went to run yourself a bath. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously as you began to undress, considering the best way to go forward.

You joined the family downstairs an hour later, and again felt Charles’ eyes lock onto you. He was considering the differences between you and Constance, once more. Constance had changed into a lovely pale blue chiffon dress for the meal, while you had again chosen an outfit that could well be considered scandalous; a long-sleeved black satin cape-cod sheath that hugged you tightly. He was leering at you over his glass of wine as you entered the dining room.

You heard Merricat hiss when she pushed her Uncle Julian into the room, and deduced that her cousin was wearing one of her father’s suits. He had also placed himself at the head of the table. You gave a heavy sigh as you took your seat across from Constance, in between Charles and Julian. You gave the girls’ uncle a smile and polite greeting as Constance poured you a glass of wine.

“This looks wonderful as always, Constance.” You tipped your glass to her and gave her a small smile of appreciation before raising it to your lips. The poor woman was doing her best to ignore the excessive tension in the room, beaming at everyone seated around the table.

“I’m so glad you like it, Y/N. I made sure to make you some green beans amandine, I remembered that it’s your favorite.”

“It is, it’s so sweet that you remembered.” You praised her, sending her into a fit of tittering. “So, Julian, how are the memoirs coming?”

You smirked into your drink as the man started going on about the night of the murders. You could sense Charles tense up once he started talking and turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of the muscles in his jaw tense up as he took a swig of wine.

“That’s enough.” He seethed, slamming his glass back down on the table and taking a deep breath to recenter himself. His smile had a certain strain to it when he lifted his head again. “Let’s talk about happier things.”

“Oh, of course.” You murmured. “Merricat, how are your studies going?”

You saw his knuckles grow white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“Oh, I’ve learned six new spells since I last saw you, the first…”

“No.” He looked at you frustratedly as you threw a wink to Merricat, making her giggle. “How about we just, enjoy our meal, hmm?”

You shrugged at him and took another sip of wine before tucking into your dinner. Constance was such a wonderful cook, it was easy to lose yourself in the food. Everyone had a clean plate before long, and you stood to help Constance and Merricat clear the table.

“No, Y/N, you’re our guest, I don’t want you doing any work during your visit with us. It wouldn’t feel right.” Constance scolded you. “Please go join Charles and Julian in the lounge for some after-dinner drinks, oh, and maybe some dancing later, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“That does sound lovely.” You turned to walk to the lounge but when you arrived, only Charles was there, pouring himself a glass of sherry. “Where’s Julian?”

“Julian decided to turn in for the night.” He told you as he focused on pouring his drink. “Did you want a sherry?”

“Yes, please.” He handed you a small glass and you took a sip, giving a hum of appreciation when the sweet liquor hit your tongue. “Constance is such a wonderful cook, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, Connie’s great.” He chuckled, turning to face you. You felt your hackles rising as he leered at you, his eyes roaming over your body with no reservations as he gave you a wolfish grin. “So what’s your story sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes at him but Constance chose that moment to enter the study, and he put up his charming façade again.

“My goodness, I didn’t realize how late it was.” She said, grinning at the two of you. “Will you think any less of me if I retire early? I feel like such a bad hostess.”

“Constance, please.” You gave her a soft look of reproach. “You need to take care of yourself, darling. Please rest, I’m sure Charles and I can find some way to entertain ourselves.”

“Yeah, go to bed, Connie.” Charles gave her a grin as he moved to refill his drink.

You shifted yourself as Constance turned to go, moving towards the desk slowly as you listened to her footsteps going up the stairs. You shifted a letter opener under your palm as you leaned back, waiting to hear the click of Constance’s bedroom door before you started talking again. You heard the click and turned to face Charles, tossing back all of your drink as a look of malice came over your face.

“Alright asshole, what’s your fucking game?” You seethed at Blackwood, sneering at the look of surprise that came over his face.

“Excuse me?” His accent slipped as he tried to recover, and you knew you had him.

“You come in here, zero prep, and manage to raise the hackles of these morons in what, a week?” You were furious, this man must be some kind of special idiot. “I’ve been working these fools for 2 years, asshole, I swear to god, if you ruin this for me…”

“Listen, bitch, I didn’t realize someone was already latched onto this teat.” You could tell he was pissed now, too, but you didn’t care. “But maybe, the fact that you haven’t gotten anywhere in 2 years means this just isn’t for you. I’ll do you a favor and cut you in for 10 percent once I get access to the safe.”

“The safe?” You covered your mouth so that your laughter wouldn’t carry. “You idiot. No wonder that stupid fucking kid is so worked up. You’re working a short-con on them? This is not going to go your way.” You were shaking with mirth.

He growled and slammed his glass on the bar cart, jostling the bottles dangerously. He was snarling as he closed the distance between you and wrapped a hand around your throat, pressing himself into you so hard the desk rattled. You brought up the letter opener and pressed it against his neck in warning, making him hiss.

The two of you stilled when you heard footsteps above you. You just stared at each other, panting heavily as you waited. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and you sighed in relief as you heard the creak of Constance finally climbing into bed.

“Listen dumbass,” You whispered at him, digging the blade into his neck to accentuate your point. “This is my score. I actually did my research, I ingrained myself to that brat, I fucked the damn simpleton, you think you can just waltz in here with that shit-eating grin and take it all away from me, you are very mistaken.”

He snorted at you, “Jesus, why would you fuck Julian?” he had slotted one of his knees between your thighs and started to edge up the hem of your skirt as he moved even closer to you.

“What?” You were doing your best to ignore the way your body was reacting to being in such close proximity to him. “No, the other simpleton, Connie. What, you haven’t?”

The look of surprise on his face was satisfying and annoying at the same time. You rolled your eyes as he released your throat and gave you an appreciative look.

“Well, fuck, sweetheart. You’re full of surprises.”

“Yeah, right.” You were tired of this. “Alright. We’re both to far into this now for either one to back out without arousing any suspicion. So, we’ll split it.” You pressed the letter opener into his neck when he scoffed at you. “Or, I could just cut your throat now, tell those two gals you assaulted me, and keep it all to myself. Which would you prefer?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Fine.” He spat at you. You had the upper hand for now, but he could find a way to get rid of you eventually, he was sure. His face split in a grin suddenly. “Y’know, we should consummate our little agreement in some way. Make it official.” He moved his hands behind you and pressed you into him roughly, making you gasp when you felt him grind his erection into your hip. “I can make you feel better than that stupid bitch did.” He moved a hand up the inside of your thigh until he was cupping your heat through your panties, groaning when he found you soaked.

You bit your lip as he ran his fingers over the sopping fabric of your panties, teasing them against your throbbing clit. You kept the blade against his throat as you rocked into his hand, begging for more friction.

“You wanna consummate it?” You gave him a wicked grin as you slowly withdrew the letter opener, tutting softly as a thin line of blood rose from his skin when it left. “Get on your knees.”

He pouted at you, that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for. You shook your head and brought the blade back up to his neck swiftly, with a click of your tongue.

“Look at that, already not holding up your end.” You scolded as he eyed you warily.

He just grumbled at you as he sank to his knees, digging his fingers into your thighs and drawing them apart slowly. He hooked his fingers underneath the sides of your panties and drew them slowly down your legs. You withdrew the blade from his neck and set it aside as he latched his palms under your hips and pulled you to the end of the desk, running his freshly shaven cheek over the smooth skin of your inner thigh and inhaling your scent.

You broke eye contact when you felt him breathe against your entrance, thrusting your hips forward to drive yourself into his mouth as his tongue flicked out to taste you. He dragged it over your slit in a heavy stripe that had you panting with need. You ran your fingers through Charles’ hair and gripped tightly, drawing him closer to you as he moaned against your core.

“Fuck.” You murmured as you fell back on your elbow, screwing your eyes shut as he thrust his tongue into you, curling it inside your canal. “Charles.”

His fingers were gripping your thighs so hard above your stockings you were sure there were going to be bruises tomorrow. His lips brushed softly against your folds as his tongue lapped up the evidence of your arousal greedily, making you moan.

You felt him release one thigh and bring his fingers to stroke over your slit as he disconnected his mouth to give you a wicked grin. “You need to be quiet, doll. All we need is you blowing the whole thing when I make you cum.” He plunged two fingers into you and curled them in a beckoning motion and you collapsed against the desk with a thud, writhing into his hand and whining softly.

You shoved your fist into your mouth and bit down on your knuckles when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently, making your back arch off the desk. He chuckled as he felt you clench around his fingers and he increased the pressure on your tiny bud, sucking even harder as your body rolled underneath him.

“That’s right sweetheart, cum for me.” He curled his fingers one more time as he latched onto you and that was that. You sobbed into your hand as your spine curled, every muscle in your body going rigid for just a beat before you were trembling in bliss, your release gushing over Charles’ chin as he kept fucking his fingers into you while you rode it out.

“God, darling, that was something.” He grinned down at you as he rose to stand between your legs, watching you shiver as aftershocks wracked your body. You looked sinful with your skirt bunched around your waist and your cunt on full display. One of your stockings had come loose from your garter belt and was starting to slide down your thigh. “If we’re gonna have an even partnership though, I think you owe me something.”

He bent over you and pressed his mouth to yours possessively, shoving his tongue between your swollen lips and probing the warm cavern of your mouth as he wrapped one hand around the back of your neck. His other hand started traveling underneath your back, searching for the buttons to undo your dress.

“Alright, fuck this.” He withdrew his hand from beneath you and started fumbling it around the desk searching for something. You gasped into his mouth when you felt the cool silver of the letter opener press against your chest, but he just drew in down in a quick slash, tearing open your dress and the thin lace of your bra until your breasts were exposed.

Charles watched the rise and fall of your chest hungrily as he rose above you, wrenching his tie and jacket off before starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. You reached down to undo his belt and whipped it off through the loops before working on the buttons of his pants. He stepped back when you had finished your work to slip out of his shoes before sliding his slacks down his legs and tossing his shirt aside.

He started tracing his fingers over your thighs lightly as he stepped closer, nudging his tip against your pussy and making you whine. Charles just chuckled as he teased you, one of his thumbs rubbing right next to your slit before withdrawing it again.

“Maybe we should renegotiate, doll.” He pressed the head of his cock into you slowly before dragging it out again. “I bet you’d give me anything right now just to get me to fuck this sweet little cunt.”

“Fuck you, Blackwood.” You hissed at him before it devolved into a moan as he brought up a hand to palm at your breast and you felt the sensation echo in your core as you clenched around nothing.

He lined himself up and clapped his palm over your mouth before spearing into you violently. You screamed into his hand and felt tears leak down your cheeks as another orgasm ripped through you and your shuddered as he began to fuck into you like a madman.

“God, this pussy is so tight, doll. So fucking warm and ready for me.” He kept his hand over your mouth as he bent to trace a bead of sweat that was trailing through the valley of your breasts with his tongue, moaning at the salty taste of you before mouthing softly over the slope of one breast to lave his tongue over your nipple. He laughed against your skin as he felt you clamp around him, your hips thrusting to match his as you neared another release. “You gonna be quiet if I move my hand, darling?” You nodded and sucked in a ragged breath when he removed his hand.

His hand moved underneath your hips and tilted you just slightly as he buried his face in your neck, sucking softly at the hollow behind your ear. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back when he brought his hand between the two of you to rub his fingers against your clit.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again.” You whispered, tossing your head back and arching into Charles as you felt a warm coil tightening in your stomach.

“Be quiet about it.” He hissed at you, pressing his cheek to yours as he continued rutting into you.

You dipped your head and sank your teeth into his shoulder as your pleasure took hold of you and you heard him swallow a shout as you fluttered around him, your legs holding him to you tightly.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He growled in your ear, bringing up one hand to brace himself against the desk and stare into your eyes. “God, I’m close, darling. You got one more for me?”

You smirked and shoved him off you roughly, making him stumble back and land heavily on the settee. You crawled into his lap and sank onto him with a hiss, grinding into him slowly before you started fucking yourself on his cock.

Charles leaned back and gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as you impaled yourself on his length over and over. You picked up the pace and he groaned as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust of his hips. You braced a hand on his chest as your eyes fluttered closed and you bit at your bruised lips. One more drive of his hips had you collapsing on top of him, your pussy strangling his cock as he fucked you through it. Your body rolled against him as he turned your head to kiss you deeply.

You felt his hips stutter and suddenly you were flooded with warmth as his seed shot into you, thick hot ropes of his spend filling you up and leaking out around his cock as he groaned into your mouth.

The two of you laid there for a bit, panting as you waited for your breathing to regulate. You were the first to move, standing over him and trying to think of some way to cover yourself long enough to make it to your room, eventually deciding to just pull the ruins of your dress over your shoulders and hope for the best. You smirked down at Charles as he started to sit up, his cock coated in a mix of your releases and his skin flushed. His perfectly coifed hair was now falling into his eyes in sweat-soaked curls as he gazed up at you through his thick lashes.

“I think this is the start of a pretty great partnership, darling.” You teased him over your shoulder as you headed back up to your room, leaving him to clean up the lounge on his own.

Not my gif

A/N: Surprise!! Our reader is a bad, bad girl! We’ll see what sort of other trouble she and Charles get up to!

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 3

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt #52: Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don't think it will help  (It is highlighted in bold).

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine, the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunken night, he finds himself with way more than he bargained for.

You can find the previous chapters here.

MC did not exist in Liam’s social season. OC Riley Brooks lives in Las Vegas.

Pairing: Liam x OC

Book: The Royal Romance

A/N: This is an 18 plus series. There is mention of an STD, so if that is a trigger … might not want to read.

A/N: Thanks to @burnsoslow and @choiceskatie for snippet reading. And Burnsy and @jessiembruno for suggestions.

Word Count: 1752

Permanent Tags: @emceesynonymroll @romanticatheart-posts  @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @drakesensworld @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @pedudley @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic  @forthebrokenheartedthings @desireepow-1986 @bebepac  @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld  @amandablink @blueaster-blog1 @liamxs-world @choiceskatie  @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234

Series Tags: @princessleac1 @cordonia-continued @sanchita012 @shz256 @cordonia-gothqueen @narrytheworld @graceful-leah @mom2000aggie @queenwalton @tinkie1973 @muchkoolermk

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

Standing in the bathroom of the hotel's penthouse they shared with friends, Maxwell broke the news to a stunned Drake about his ... unfortunate condition.

"What're you gonna do about them, Drake?"

Frustrated, Drake ran a hand down his face, wanting to be anywhere but with Maxwell at that precise moment. "I don't know, Maxwell," he spat. "This is my first crabbing!"

"Maybe we can have a doctor look at them. Get some ... I don't know ... kind of comb or poison or something."

He pulled his pants back up and groaned. "I just need a drink."

Maxwell followed Drake out of the bathroom, keeping a good distance from his friend. "Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don't think it will help."

Liam and Leo sat on the sofa watching the Instagram posting of the wedding ceremony as the duo walked by. 

A disgruntled Liam stood and gestured to the laptop on the coffee table. "Maxwell! Why the hell did you post this? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Drake was already out the door headed for the hotel bar. Maxwell never broke stride as he trailed. "No time to talk, Li. Got an STD emergency."

The door slammed with a jarring thud. Liam turned back to Leo with a confused look. "What was that?"

"Sounds like the Drakester didn't wrap it up," Leo chuckled while sippng on a capri-sun, while never taking his attention away from the screen. "Oh! Oh!" He waved his younger brother over with excitement. "This is the part where you sang, Moves Like Jagger, to Riley during the ceremony."

They both listened in as Liam's garbled voice reverberated from the speakers watching the King grind fervently against his bride. "Take me by the tongue, and I'll know you. Kiss me 'til you're drunk, and I'll show you all the moves like Liam. I've got the moves like Liam. I've got the moooOoooOooOooves like Liam."

Liam's hands flew in the air out of bewilderment. "I don't even know that fucking song!"

Leo slurped through his little yellow straw then replied, "I think you do. Videos don't lie, Liam."

A haste knock interrupted their viewing; Liam answered the door, surprised to see Riley.

The frantic woman held her phone up to his face. "Do you want to explain why I'm all over the internet with you, Elvis, and this … this monkey?  Also, it says we got married?"

Leo bolted from the sofa. "Hey! That monkey has a name, you know.”

"Not now, Leo," Liam grumbled.

Riley leaned to get a better look at the sandy-haired blond who was approaching the door. "Who are you?"

Stepping in front of his brother with a hand extended, he flashed his signature grin. "I'm Leo, your new brother-in-law. But only by half because my mom left me. Then I got a new mommy: Liam's mom -- then she died. Then we both got another new mom. Wait … is  Regina still alive? Oh my god! Tell me we still have a mom, Liam!"

"Leo! Get the hell out of here!"

He huffed. "Fine. I'll go make a sandwich. You want one sis?"

Riley shook her head.

Liam gave her an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry about him. Please come in." He stepped aside and offered her a seat on the sofa. 

She couldn't help but notice the laptop on the table paused on their abrupt ceremony. It was apparent to her that Liam was trying desperately to get his own answers.

Liam pushed the laptop aside and sat across from her on the table; his elbows rested on his thighs as he sat forward. He let out a heavy exhale. "I suppose we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, we do. What is all of this? And you're a King? Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I am. It's a small country in the Mediterranean -- Cordonia. And I couldn't tell you because my head guard wouldn't allow me to come on this trip without him unless I remained discreet about my identity."

Riley regarded him thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense." 

Leo handed her a Capri-Sun with the straw already pushed in. She took it hesitantly and thanked him. "I guess I just need to know how we ended up married to one another last night?"

Liam's remorseful eyes idled up to his brother, who was now standing next to him, eating a turkey and Frito's sandwich. "According to my brother here, whose heart is bigger than his brain, I called him and asked him to marry us."

Leo shook his head. "That's true, Riley. It's all Liam's fault."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Leo, why don't you go check on Drake and Max."

"Fuck that!  Drake ain't got nothing I wanna be checking on right now."

"No, stay," Riley pleaded. "You seem to be the only one who knows what happened last night. Can you tell me everything, please?"

Leo gave Liam an arrogant smirk before falling back onto the sofa beside Riley.

"I'll tell you everything, but you two have to promise to name your firstborn after it's Uncle Leo."

Liam dropped his head into his hands. "Leo, dammit."

Leo nudged Riley in the side and leaned into her. "Your husband's an asshole. Probably inherited from our daddy. If he ever makes you drink from a wine goblet, you should probably run."

Riley patted his knee like a child and spoke softly, assuming at this point he was a mental case. "Leo, sweetie, can you just tell me what happened last night, please."

"Well, as I told Liam, I was getting my prostate milked from hot Nurse Trisha at the bank. I just needed change for a twenty, but they said I had to make a deposit first. They even give you porn in this private room. So she's two fingers deep when I get a call from Liam, who was as drunk as Cooter Brown at a church picnic and said he needed me to come down to that Graceland Chapel because he was getting married. So after I sputtered in the little cup, I left in such a hurry I didn't get my change, but I called Drake and Max and told them they had to meet us at the chapel."

Riley cocked her head. "Why was a monkey there?"

"Oh, that's Mongo, the ring bearer. And if you pulled on his nipples, he'd hump your legs and give you a quick reach around. The coolest fucking monkey I ever knew."

Riley snapped a wide-eyed stare at Liam, who just shrugged at her and said, "I ... I've got nothing."

Leo bit into his sandwich. The crunch from the mound of Fritos could be heard in the casino fifty-one stories below. "You know, Liam --" He smacked his lips a few times. "Now that you're married to sis, you don't have to marry Maddie. You can have the wife and Queen you've always wanted. And judging by the noises I heard coming from your room last night, she makes you very happy."

Riley chuckled, slightly embarrassed, while Liam stood and walked to the wet bar for a drink and some distance.

"Leo, I appreciate the thought," he said while pouring a tumbler of scotch. "But Riley and I are just strangers who had a good time, but made a huge mistake." Liam took a sip of his drink and walked back to the sofa. "Don't worry about anything, Riley. I will take care of the annulment in Cordonia and here in the states."

She smiled. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

Leo tossed his sandwich on the table. "No! Liam, man, this is your chance to be free. You came to Vegas and hit the jackpot. And maybe you two kids are strangers now, but there's no reason why you couldn't get to know each other and fall madly in love. You already know you'll never love Mads. And then at the end of the day, I'd be the big sexy cupid who made it all possible."

It surprised Liam that his brother's suggestion tempted him... and that Leo actually made a coherent suggestion. He sighed. "I don't think so, Leo."

Riley looked between the two men, who seemed to have a stare down over the logic of this idea. She liked Liam; he was the handsome, mysterious guy that she had always dreamed of meeting.  She took a long drink of her juice and sat it on the table. "I think I will go, now. Is there anything you need from me, Liam, to quicken the annulment?"

"If you could write your contact information down in case my lawyer has questions, that would be great. I'll be sure you receive copies of everything as soon as possible."

Riley pulled a notepad and a pen from her purse as Leo walked over to Liam to debate further. "Don't do this little brother. Don't you do it. We can't afford to lose another member of our family. First it was daddy, then Regina, now Riley. I can't take it, Liam."

Liam placed a hand on Leo's shoulder. "It's done, Leo. And ... Regina is alive. You just spoke to her yesterday."

Leo's head dropped back with a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god."

"Here ya go, Liam." Riley stood and handed the paper to him and grabbed her purse from the sofa. 

Leo clutched both of her shoulders and shook them. "Please, Riley, don't go. Don’t leave my brother an orphan. You're the Queen of Cordonia now. Think of the people!"

Riley snorted from just the thought. "I know nothing about being a queen. I doubt I would have anything to offer your little country."

"Liam could teach you! Hell, I can teach you, too. I'm the smartest one in the family. You'll be bossing people around in no time."

"That's very kind of you, but I think I like my little life just fine here in Vegas, bossing kids around the classroom all day." She patted his arm endearingly and walked past him toward the door.

Liam stood there, watching her walk away while the words of his brother replayed heavily through his mind. Nothing made sense; he was sad that she was leaving, knowing that it was completely irrational to feel that way. Leo was right, though: this was his chance to be free, and even if it didn't work out in the end, it could buy him time to find the one he would love and have the family he always wanted.

He turned away and walked back to the wet bar to pour another drink; he wouldn't be selfish and ask this complete stranger to give up her life for him. 

With his back turned, he closed his eyes when he heard Riley speak her goodbyes and opened the door. 

A familiar voice rang out that shook him to his core, and he whipped around to see his current wife stopped at the door by his future one.

"Oh, you must be the one who thinks she can steal my crown."

[torchkeeper]

Never-Ending Survey: Gan Arulaq

Rules: Repost, do not reblog

Tagged by: I steal and have no dignity @lightdevoid

Tagging:  Nah

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Gan Arulaq

NICKNAME: see bio but also most common one is Fool

AGE:  20

BIRTHDAY:  (8/17) 17th Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Au Ra || Xaela

NATIONALITY: N/A

LANGUAGE/S:  Arulaq dialect (and near total deviation from Xaelic standard), Eorzean Common, good luck with anything else lmao 

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

HOME TOWN / AREA: A really, really, really remote mountain valley on the Azim Steppe

CURRENT HOME:  Not too close but not too far from his master

PROFESSION: himbo respected adventurer/peacekeeper and works with the Scions when needed

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Short red and black hair that i chose bc the cut is closest to Him

EYES: he green and theyre glowy cuz...Limbal Rings hell yea

FACE: c h i n, bright eyes, naturally dramatic expressions 

LIPS: half thicc but they gave up

COMPLEXION: light copper, like when you see Mars surface from space

BLEMISHES: No 

SCARS: Not a lot tbh, I would say just one or two that are serious and lots more (but still low) that are just from mundane things

TATTOOS: No

HEIGHT: 7′1

WEIGHT: 200 ponz

BUILD: B i g, athletic and lean

FEATURES: big hands! long tail! big horns! he is a stretched JPEG brought to life, deep mischievous voice

ALLERGIES: None he is cleaner than a whistle

USUAL HAIR STYLE: He is combing it back daily (even if its short) or whenever it gets out of place, rarely touches his thin bangs tho

USUAL FACE LOOK:  like he’s trying to figure out math and losing, confused at something, or smiling and laughing

USUAL CLOTHING: If he needs to wear clothes he Must show his titties somehow, even if just a bit, also shorts/capris but sometimes sleek form fitting pants- honestly my inspo was JJBA characters but replicate it through what FFXIV has

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Dying to leave his son behind, failure especially toward someone he values, not being enough

ASPIRATION/S: To make his loved ones proud of him, making the world a better place where he can (that can be from treating individuals kindly to world saving events)

POSITIVE TRAITS: Loyal, funny, courteous, determined in resolving serious conflicts, gravitates by instinct to help others

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Naive, stubborn, oblivious, can get in over his head and harm himself in the process

TEMPERAMENT: Easy going and can be emotional

ANIMALS: Chocobo, birds, turtles, horses

VICE HABIT/S: More food in one sitting than a person should have-pays for it later with his stomach (a habit Vaste gave him), when he gets confused he needs a moment to get his emotion out before he rationalizes, easily focuses on one thing at a time

FAITH: Makes his head hurt so he doesn’t really bother

GHOSTS?: Yes, he’s heard many stories about the ones that follow Vaste, Ardbert’s WoDs are now the foster family he doesn’t know he has

AFTERLIFE?: Yes, see above

REINCARNATION?: Yes

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Are you corrupt and abusing power? You die

EDUCATION LEVEL: Virtually none, only knows survival skills and things he’s been taught or observed on the road, he can kinda read and has his master helping him (but really him and her are both not great she’s still at a junior high level and he’s close behind- Alphinaud and others are their teachers)

FAMILY.

FATHER : Ded

MOTHER : Ded

SIBLINGS : No

EXTENDED FAMILY: Ded

NAME MEANING/S: Bold in Mongolian 

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None specific other than traditionally being considered a strong boys name, thus respected

FAVORITES.

BOOK: He loves any book he’s managed to read on his own, his recipe books are A+ to him

DEITY: He doesnt follow it but Rhalgar’s pretty metal

HOLIDAY: Moonfire Faire

MONTH: Finding pretty places in all of them

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: Can’t choose

WEATHER:  Sunny and fair, some breeze, he doesn’t mind cold too much as he was raised in it but not his first pick, rain

SOUND / S: Water, horse hooves, bubbling food he’s making, laughter, cicadas

SCENT / S: Food, herbs, the sea, wild plants like in a forest

TASTE / S: Spicy food, smoked food, stuff that has a sense of kick and weight

FEEL / S:

ANIMAL / S: Birds, turtles, horses, but he’s also unafraid to mess with non lethal snakes, scaring Vaste half to death in the process

NUMBER: Makes his head hurt

COLORS: Blues, reds, dark purple, black, orange

EXTRA.

TALENTS: He can bake, he can cook- The Bismarck should hire him, horseback riding via his childhood, spear fighting, telling jokes and lighting people up from bad moods

BAD AT: Fully recognizing what others want if they aren’t clear about it, doesn’t like guns so his aim with them is bad, complex math, opening up when he’s annoyed

TURN ONS: Shiina, people who he finds pretty, kind, and made with a tough will

TURN OFFS: Cruelty and sadism (as in getting off on pain/murder, fear, and humiliation that dehumanizes others, not the BDSM), people who are rude and demand a lot or walk all over others thinking they’re above everything

HOBBIES: Baking, sewing, training, practicing his reading, sightseeing

TROPES: Gentle giant, big muscles not as big brain, shy but passionate romantic, loyal to his friends

QUOTES: “What is Courage? Courage is knowing fear and making that fear your own!” - William A. Zeppeli

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?      

A1 :  Wes Anderson directed mayhem similar in tone to The Grand Budapest Hotel covering his life in short so far (I would’ve said Satoshi Kon too but he unfortunately passed years ago)

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 : Yoko Kanno, which speaks for itself because how do you even begin pinpointing Kanno’s work to one thing

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?        

A3 : Haven’t rly yet but I’d like to, love the idea of that (and the one time I did “write” for him tumblr ate it)

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?        

A4 : I was playing with CC a year ago and when he came out I loved him immediately

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :  He can be mature and responsible but he’s still young enough to rush into things

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :  I’m decent at cooking, I have some horseback riding experience, I hate when I can’t understand someone and I get an impulse to act over think at emotional peaks

Q7 :  How does your muse feel about you?        

A7 :  He is confused and horrified to now know he’s basically a Sim but in an FF game

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8 : His mentor/best friend, his lover, his son bc he is the sweetest dad, someone new

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse?    

A9 : I don’t fully understand yet which is why I started this blog, but putting him in in-jokes and memes is definitely a factor lmao

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?  

A10 : I did part of it during an all nighter then passed out, woke up to finish

[angewrites]

82 Truths

Tagged by @incandescent-creativity!! 

82 is a lot so they’re gonna be under the cut

Most Recent…

Drink: Capri Sun Pacific Cooler. I swear I’m an adult. Phone Call: My mom  Text: From my mom.  Song You Listened To: “Canadian Idiot” by Weird Al Yankovic Time You Cried: Saturday night......

Bold if you’ve ever…

Dated someone twice Been cheated on Kissed someone and regretted it Lost someone special Been depressed Been drunk and thrown up

Bold if you’ve in the last year…

Made a new friend Fallen out of love Laughed until you’ve cried Met someone who changed you Found out who your true friends are Found out someone was talking about you Kissed anyone on your fb list

Extras…

Three Favorite Colors: Pink, Orange, and Gold How many people from your fb list do you know irl: most of them . . . ?  Any pets: no unfortunately. my dad hates animals lmao Do you want to change your name: nope What did you do for your birthday: saw Moana in theaters!! and cried What time did you wake up today: 10:15 A.M. What were you doing last night at midnight: trying to work on a one-shot based on an anime . . . key word is “trying” Name something you can’t wait for: I’m visiting Atlanta, GA and some of my cousins in AL next week, so that’s exciting!! Last time you saw your mom: about three months ago  . . . she lives in another state than I do One thing you wish you could change about your life: no mental illness + have lots of motivation  Ever talked to a person named Tom: Yeah! He’s a Catholic priest actually. 

What’s getting on your nerves right now: why I can’t go to bed at a decent hour Blood type:  . . . I don’t remember.  Nickname: Ang’/Ange/Angie.  Relationship status: single and would like to stay that way :D Pronouns: she/her Fav TV Show: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V Long or Short Hair: I guess it’s long?? it’s to the middle of my back. Height: 5′3″ Do you have a crush on someone: yeah! on fictional characters. *sob* What do you like about yourself: my ability to make people laugh at a moment’s notice Right or left handed: Right First surgery: I wasn’t a year old yet, but I had to get surgery to drain excess fluid in my brain. Haven’t had surgery since. First best friend: Monica in Pre-K, but I have no idea where she is now. First sport you joined: I’ve never joined any sports teams, although I was asked why I wasn’t on the basketball team in high school haha. 

Right Now…

Eating: not eating anything Drinking: Capri Sun Pacific Cooler - slushie style.  I’m about to: probably reblog more stuff on this blog Listening to: Home (feat. Jeremy Camp) - Adam Cappa Kids: NOPE. Get married: no way, no how.  Career: college student atm 

Which is better…

Lips or Eyes Hugs or Kisses Taller or Shorter (I mean I’m used to people being taller than me at this point) Older or Younger (same age as me is better tho) Romantic or Spontaneous Sensitive or Loud Hookup or Relationship Troublemaker or Hesitant (tho . . . it depends on what kind of troublemaker they are.........)

Have You Ever…

Kissed a stranger: Nah Glasses/contacts: Glasses and will continue to wear them for the rest of my life probably Had sex on first date: NO!!!!! Broken someone’s heart: Probably, but no one’s ever told me. Turned someone down: Yeah. Cried when someone died: Yes. Fallen for a friend: Nope. 

Do you believe in…

Yourself: About once a day for about five seconds.  Miracles: Absolutely Love at first sight: ehhh, not really?  Heaven: absolutely. Kissing on the first date: eh whatever people want to do

I tag (if y’all want): @musicalravencreates @pivotlikeamofo @authorrjcity @amonoff @december-soulstice @resident-book-nerd @prideandpen @little-holo-space-book @rainbow-pages 

[brokendummy]

Tagged by @g0thiest-nightmari0nne

Rules: answer the 20 questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better.

Nickname: Broken

Gender: none

Starsign​: Taurus

Height: 5′4"

Time right now: 7:15pm

Last thing I googled: Red-eared slider

Favorite Bands: Ah geeze, i don’t know what i like in music.. Gorillaz, i guess?

Favorite Solo Artists: Dunno.. The Living Tombstone and i guess Ren, but i just listen to their older stuff.

Song Stuck in Your Head: End of the Sky by Shoutaro Morikubo

Last movie I watched: The Mask played on a local channel recently.

Last Tv show I watched: No idea, i’m pretty tuned out.

When did you create your blog: March 2011 and i originally made it to follow people who drew Homestuck.

What kind of stuff do you post: It’s mostly reblogging FNaF, some gore, glitch.. anything i find interesting. As for actual posting, dumb pics, rants and little art.

When did your blog reached its peak: It hasn’t? i just get a random follower every few months or something, can’t even tell what brought them over.

Do you have any other blogs: My artblog @puppetmonster and two other empty ones. One reserved for dream journalism, the other for FNaF guilt thoughts and aesthetics.

Do you get asks regularly: Nope. Just a total of 15-18 since i started.

Why you chose your URL: BrokenMonster and BrokenPuppet were taken, a dummy is type of puppet.

Following: Like.. how many i follow or my followers? 93 and 74 respectively.

Posts: Mobile won’t let me check.

Pokemon team: Rocket, who else? But uh.. i like Skull’s relaxed outfits.(i still don’t know what they’re about, i’ve been avoiding spoilers and can’t afford the game) But if you mean Pokémon Go, then Valor, i chose with my eyes closed.

Favorite colors: Mainly grays, dirty mossy greens and browns.. just neutral. Then space colors, especially purples.

Average hours of sleep: Wildly varies, but still wake up tired and hating everything.

Favorite characters: Every FNaF character, all puppeteers in Naruto, Flowey the Flower, Deku Scrub Link, Bowser, Wario..

What are you wearing right now: Tanktop and some loose dirty capris.

How many blankets do you sleep with: One.

Dream job: Almost anywhere with video games, doing concept work, throwing ideas or idk. Or somewhere to work with my hands, like molding and making props, toys and all types of puppets.

Dream trip: So far, i just want to go so MS and move in with my friends already. That’s already a dream of its own.

Sorry, i’m not tagging anyone. Feels like i'd be bothering someone with something they've possibly done already. But if you're interested can do it and pretend i tagged you.

[shittyprettyandshinee]

Get to know me tag!

Get to know me tag!

Tagged by @sho-ho-hownu (thank you so much, and you have a really great taste in music omg!!!)

Rules: Answer the 20 questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better.

Nickname: Kris

Gender: Female, technically??? But, I mean. It changes with the days. I identify as gender fluid and I use they/them pronouns. 

Star Sign: Leo

Height: 4′11 (i’m SO short)

Time right now: 11:13 PM

Last thing I googled: “how to remove water from ear” yo so i’ve been deaf for about a week now, and i’ve tried literally EVERYTHING in the book to get this water out of my ears. pray for me or something

Favorite Bands: Wow, um sooooo SHINee, obviously. Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos, Dance Gavin Dance, UP10TION, Inner Wave, WINNER, BIGBANG, Manchester Orchestra, A Lot Like Birds, NCT,  Arctic Monkeys, 2NE1, The Drums, Cage the Elephant, Daughter, HONNE, dvsn

Favorite Solo Artists: Jonghyun, Frank Ocean, RY X, Childish Gambino, Devendra Banhart, Giriboy, Marten Kuningas, Kurt Travis, Keaton Henson, Kjartan Lauritzen, Gabriel Garzon-Montano, Crush, Zion.T

Song stuck in your head: Problem by Verdensrommet. I’ve been playing this song a lot lately. Gotta love Norwegian music lolol

Last movie I watched: Akira ? I think...or Your Name ? I don’t remember. 

Last TV Show I watched: The Path. Season 2 got me fucked the fuck up.

When did you create your blog: A while back...this WAS my main blog for a while, but um, now it’s mostly K-pop.

What kind of stuff do you post: Mainly reblogs of cute Korean boys, hipster-esque aesthetic pics, and depressing quotes. It’s kind of all over the place. 

When did your blog reach it’s peak: LOL, it hasn’t. I have like 2 followers.

Do you have any other blogs: I do! I have a poetry blog (that I just restarted) and a personal “diary” type blog.

Do you get asks regularly: I never get asks lol.

Why you chose your URL: I bought a shirt that says “Pretty and Witty” and like that was half true, because I’m mostly shitty. It was very Oscar Wilde-esque inspired spur of the moment decision, but I don’t regret it. 

Following: 666...oh dear god I didn’t even know. D:

Posts: Oh man, I wouldn’t even know where to look.

Hogwarts House: Um, I’ve never read or seen Harry Potter and I have no desire. But, I’ve been told multiple times that I would be a Ravenclaw.

Pokémon Team: I don’t play /:

Favorite colors: Green and Grey 

Average hours of sleep: Anywhere from 6-8 hours of sleep. On weekends it’s about 10.

Lucky Numbers: 9.

Favorite Characters: Nine and Twelve from Terror in Resonance, Mello, Near and L from Death Note, Walter and Mike from Breaking Bad, Punpun from Oyasumi Punpun, Nakamura from Flowers of Evil, Frank from The Wasp Factory, Griffith from Berserk. (I’ve included anime, manga, TV Show and book characters.)

What are you wearing right now: A short sleeved black shirt with a grey Nautical printed pocket on the left breast. (I love shirts with pockets and collars.) and ripped jean capris. 

How many blankets do you sleep with: Two? I sleep with my comforter and fleece throw blanket. 

Dream job: I want to be a playwright, or an English // Theatre teacher. 

Dream trip: Brazil. I want to go to the rain forest! :)

I won’t tag anybody, because I just don’t feel like it at the moment. 

[yuehouzi]

Really  LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY.      RULES.  repost, don’t reblog !!      TAGGED.  no one in particular.     TAGGING.  anyone and everyone.

BASICS.

FULL  NAME : Yueliang Wukong NICKNAME :  Yue, Little Thief AGE :  8 BIRTHDAY :  August 9th ETHNIC  GROUP : Vacuoan NATIONALITY :   Vacuoan LANGUAGE / S* : Common tongue, Vacuoan -- a mixture of the main city’s dialect and the one spoken by her parents. SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  ??? ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :   ???  RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :   Single as a pringle. For this and the previous two questions, she’s a child. If anyone is interested in me answering them in the verses where she’s older, I guess I can do that. Otherwise, no. SOCIOECONOMIC CLASS :   Lower middle HOMETOWN / AREA :   Vacuo CURRENT  HOME :   Vacuo, main city / the city that surrounds Shade Academy. PROFESSION : Student, eventually a huntress-in-training.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Thick and golden blonde with a silvery white lock near her bangs. EYES :  Deep brown. NOSE : She has one.  FACE : She has one.   LIPS :  She has them and they’re thin. COMPLEXION : Dark tan. BLEMISHES : Some birthmarks scattered on her arms, on the inside of a knee. SCARS : Some light scarring on her knees. A white mark on her cheek. TATTOOS :  None HEIGHT : 3′8″  WEIGHT : 41.43 lbs BUILD : Slight, with some lean muscle.  NOTABLE FEATURES : A simian’s tail, with golden fur.  ALLERGIES : Pollen ( unknown since it’s not a problem for her in Vacuo ), dust mites. USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  Layered, approximately chin-length, with the ends angled to frame her face. If her hair gets long enough, there may be a tuft of a braid.  USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Keen interest. She’s constantly observing her environment, picking out the interesting people / objects.  USUAL CLOTHING : Sneakers -- think chuck taylors. shorts or capris. a short sleeve or tank top under a sleeveless hoodie, which has her brother’s emblem on a breast pocket. a square scarf. If her mother dresses her...count on more traditionally feminine styles and colors. She absolutely refuses to wear skirts and dresses of any kind.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : She’ll proudly say none. However, after seeing the fall of Beacon unfold on a live broadcast -- Grimm start making occasional appearances in nightmares. Every day that goes by without hearing from Sun adds to her worry that he’s dead or missing. ASPIRATION / S :  To have an interesting life, experience as much as she can. After the fall of Beacon, she begins considering a future as a huntress.  POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Curious. Intelligent. Fiercely loyal and compassionate towards her family and friends. Inventive. Independent. NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Mischievous. Impulsive. Stubborn. Smug. Prideful. Manipulative ( to a degree ). MBTI :   ENFP-A ZODIAC :   Leo TEMPEREMENT :  Sanguine SOUL  TYPE / S :   Performer ANIMALS :  Rooster VICE  HABIT / S : The occasional case of sticky fingers. 

FAITH : Self declared atheist, privately interested in agnosticism. GHOSTS ? :   No. AFTERLIFE ? :   Not sure. REINCARNATION ? :  She’ll say no, but she’s curious. ALIENS ? :  Maybe. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :  N/A ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE : Not sure about preference, but she and her family are lower middle class. She’s happy the way things are, but with the amount of time she’s spent around her parents’ workplaces and markets / bazaars -- she’s starting to realize that money is power and she’s beginning to capitalize on that with her swear jar. SOCIOPOLITICAL  POSITION : Look -- I’m a government / international politics student and I have no idea what’s meant by this. Are we talking political alignment or views on social policy / issues ? Those don’t necessarily align. Anyways -- she’s eight aka she has none of her own and doesn’t know much beyond what she hears others talking about. EDUCATION  LEVEL :   Primary school

FAMILY.

FATHER :    Tián Wukong MOTHER :   Mei-Xing Wukong SIBLINGS :   Sun Wukong EXTENDED  FAMILY :   Maternal aunt, uncle, and cousin in Mistral; paternal uncle in Vacuo NAME  MEANING / S :  The Wukong family has names relating to the sky and celestial objects. HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : Not so much history as philosophical / religious. Sun is clearly based on the Monkey King in Journey to the West. She and Sun are a representation of the Taoist principle of yin-yang.

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  She’s not much into reading. Comics always catch her eye. She’ll occasionally look at magazine articles if they have pictures that interest her. If she’s being read to, she’ll listen to almost everything. MOVIE :  Anything action related ( that her parents permit or don’t know about ). Documentaries may catch her interest, but on a case-by-case basis. 5  SONGS : She listens to whatever is playing on a scroll speaker. If there’s live music in a market / bazaar, she stops to listen -- especially if the music is coming from an unfamiliar instrument.

DEITY :  Privately, she’s interested in most deities. Since she was young, her mother has told her that she was blessed by the moon and the silvery streak in her hair is proof. Yue doesn’t buy it, but she does wonder. HOLIDAY :  a celebration of the New Year. MONTH :   Any that don’t bring cold weather. SEASON :   Summer. PLACE :   Her home city in Vacuo. She’s very interested in Shade Academy and while she’s not allowed outside the city boundaries alone, she loves to travel. WEATHER :   Bright and sunny or clear and moonlit, with a slight breeze. SOUND :  The hum of a crowd with music woven in. SCENT / S :  Petrichor. Fresh fruit. The lingering scent whenever she steals Sun’s shirts or jackets. TASTE / S :   Food. She likes food and isn’t picky.  FEEL / S : None in particular. ANIMAL / S :   Nearly all.  NUMBER :   None. COLORS :  White, blue. Anything bright.

EXTRA.

TALENTS :   Running cons. Memorization. Getting under people’s skins yet somehow still being adorable. Climbing. Arguing. BAD  AT :  Being sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. Subtlety. Anything that requires patience. Knowing when things don’t need her comment. TURN  ONS : She’s a child. TURN  OFFS : She’s a child.   HOBBIES :   People watching and eavesdropping. Gymnastics. Running cons. Hidden object games ( ironically ).  TROPES :  Animal Stereotypes. Annoying Younger Sibling. Brown Eyes. Badass Adorable. Jerk with a Heart of Gold. Kick the Dog. Little Miss Badass. Little Miss Snarker. Mystical White Hair / Power Dyes Your Hair. Only Known by Their Nickname. Pint-sized Powerhouse. Tagalong Kid. AESTHETIC  TAGS :  none yet. QUOTES : (1) “I would rather die of passion than of boredom.” (2) “She decided a long time ago she didn’t want to be a careful person, that she didn’t want to live her life constantly worrying about what other people thought of her. Of course she does worry, she does nothing but worry, and all her lack of care amounts to is that she offends people constantly and tests them with her inappropriateness and expects them to love her for it.” (3) “If you think you can grasp me, think again.”

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC / S : Pudding Fong from Tokyo Mew Mew. ALT  FC / S :  None, but searching. OLDER  FC / S : None, but searching.  YOUNGER  FC / S :   N/A VOICE  CLAIM / S : None, but searching. GENDERBENT  FC / S :  N/A

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ? A1 :  Ooh boy, I have no idea -- I enjoy films but I don’t have enough knowledge to be confident in answering this. 

Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ? A2 :  Something that evokes feelings of mischievousness, happiness without a care in the world, then transitions to more serious and uncertain. Finally, something suited to action. Personally, I listen to to the klk soundtrack when I want to write action for her.

Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ? A3 :  looks at @brightlikewukong. Because I told them about my ideas and they didn’t stop me. I also have a habit of getting deep into developing characters and plots for them and Yue has me wrapped around her little fingers.

Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ? A4 :  Mm. Maybe the fact that she’s so young and I haven’t written someone like her before. Not to mention, Rai’s Sun is a gift and I feel that both Sun and Yue have grown in their interactions with each other. 

Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse. A5 :   c: I work with kids and ooh boy do they sometimes know just how to grate on my nerves c: On the one hand, I understand they’re children but on the other, sometimes you just know when they’re being little shits on purpose. 

Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ? A6 :   Um. We will fite for the people we care about. 

Q7 :  how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ? A7 :  Simultaneously unimpressed and impatient.

Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ? A8 : In terms of actual interactions, with her brother ( brightlikewukong ) and their parents. She’s also managed to insult Neptune and Scarlet, much to her amusement. In terms of future interactions or ones that haven’t occurred on here, I’d love to see her interact with any muses from Vacuo ( they seem to be in short supply here ). There are a few NPCs that she’ll interact well with, namely her friend Zarrin Ahmar ( currently a student at Shade ).

Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ? A9 :   Anything that Rai talks about or posts in relation to Sun. The klk soundtrack as well. And sometimes, the things I see at work.

Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ? A10 :  Several days, since I did it in chunks.