#where are my exclusive tickets for seeing them?! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belokhvostikova · 11 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 "𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠"

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | A night after Homecoming has you reveling in the loneliness of your mind, but a drug dealer "meandering" his way by is there to solve your issues, especially after finding a particular toy of yours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, minor comments about food, feelings of embarrassment, overthinking, mentions of mean friends/exclusion, loneliness, insecurities, and explicit sexual content: fondling, one spank, edging, orgasm denial, praise kink, sir kink, oral (female receiving), rimming (female receiving), anal play/fingering, use of sex toy (butt plug), and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Everyone be honest: do you actually enjoy my writing being this long, when little to nothing is happening? I don't know, I feel like I dramatically wrote this, it's kinda comical. Also, this is literally an entire Soundgasm audio I heard, but can no longer find- the agony! All script credits to them, I’ll try to link it once I do find it! And, @strangerstilinski is a lot better at Pinterest than me, so big, loveable thanks to you for the photos!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Cold and creamy, the slab of lotion smearing its enriching silk onto the skin of your shaven legs to prevent that inevitable itch in a couple days had been the only thing to smooth over your mind in the suffocating humidity of your bathroom. But even then, the sweetening smell of coconuts and vanilla couldn’t fully appease your feelings from the nagging reality of how isolated you felt from the people closest to you.

Quinton Reeves.

For whatever reason, retired number ninety-five of Hawkins High’s baseball conference champions of 1983, still had the popularity chokehold of high schoolers, despite the matter of being into his second year of his community college career, while brandishing the golden name tag of the multiplex theater he hadn’t left since junior year. Something about giving away free tickets to greedy teenagers, that’s what made him “cool,” though utterly pathetic in your eyes.

But unfortunately, in the eyes of swooning cheerleaders, Quinton Reeves’ “maturity” had made his Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road the main priority of your friends’ plans, after a grueling night of sore toes and itchy fabric that was the Homecoming dance. An actual celebration, where booze monitoring or debauchery dance moves couldn’t be policed by the faculty of your soon to be alma mater. Not that it was celebrating much, those green and orange jerseys adorned by the most admired only saw scuff marks with no touchdowns; yet another year of despair for Hawkins High’s athletic department. And yet, somehow a trophy-less trophy cabinet did little to sway the big egos of the prim and proper. Funny. So now, you sigh, basking in a night of a hot shower, trying to exfoliate and shave off that icky feeling in you that you knew resided deeper than superficially.

Because while your friends drank the night away at Quinton Reeves’ Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road, you sat forlorn with a kitchen full of purchased junk food, a bathroom full of face masks, a bedside table full of magazines, and a television stand full of movies, because despite being planned a week in advance—after you conveniently got left out of Stacy Wither’s girls night—Quinton Reeves’ Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road became more important than your girls night.

Softened skin bundled in cozy clothes, you watched your saddened reflection in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, where a squeaking wipe to the condensation allowed for pellets of water to race down the glass. Beneath the mask of green gunk that claimed to heal those pesky bumps of raging hormones on your skin, you could still see the dampen expression of your sorrow face, where you recollected the comments of your so-called friends.

Buzz-kill. Bummer. Borning. Rummaging through the entirety of the B section of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Thesaurus just to really cement the fact that they wanted nothing to do with your itinerary-riddled girls night.

You splashed your face with the wake of lukewarm water. To hell with them; your skin was glowing, body freshly cleaned, your scalp free from any solid itch of hairspray, fingers and toes wiggling with a beaming white polish, and you had an assortment of snacks to rake through while ogling at Ferris Bueller, watching him have a day off with his friends who actually care. Perhaps you should take a stroll through Chicago, and catch a Cubs game. It wasn’t anything but a state away. And if you got lucky, maybe you could find Sloane Peterson’s fringe jacket in your stack of magazines.

Surely, Ferris Bueller was cuter than any twenty-one-year-old who still spent his weekends partying with high schoolers.

Christ, a parked full driveway.

Eddie, four hundred seventy-six dollars richer, Munson craned his neck, ticking his tongue at the scale of which your house stood at 11:28 p.m on this Friday night. One hesitant sniff at his shirt, and he regretted the decision of not moving Samara Lawson away any faster, when the drunken girl attempted the flirtatious endeavor of receiving that twenty-five percent discount you were always accustomed to.

Perhaps her revenge on the dealer, himself, after he politely declined with a harsh line to his lips was forcing him to reek of booze after a tight hug to ensure her chest squished against his just enough that Samara Lawson surely thought it would deduct a dollar or two. It didn’t.

“Fucking two stories, man…” Eddie sighed, kicking the mulch of your mother’s meticulously cared for garden, as the bricks of your home seemed to drag onward for an eternity from his five foot eleven stance (six feet if you’d ever ask).

A towel in hand, you gently dabbed away the excess water from your face, before you turned to serums and creams to gently massage your face with, hoping to ease any worry lines your friends have cost you in the wake of disappointment. Mint flavoring of stringy floss proceeded to invade your mouth, as you plucked all you could from your teeth to triumph through your oral hygiene care. Not that it mattered, though, a party-sized bag of Doritos was awaiting its fate of being empty by the time Pretty in Pink began its course of replay.

If Eddie Munson knew anything, it was the probable fact that your bedroom could be found from the dimly lit window on the left wing of your home, where white curtains cascaded against a potential entry to your room. In the instances in which Eddie found himself in the weekly routine of taking three steps up porch and three knocks to the door, the stained glass that adorned your front door for decorative reasons always allowed him the warped sight of you appearing from the left side of the second story, before bouncing down the stairs like Yasmin Bleeth running down Will Rogers State Beach.

And for the brief one minute and thirty-seven seconds it took to exchange the half ounce for fifteen dollars—prolonged extensively by Eddie Munson’s attempt at small talk—Eddie lavished in the bubble that was your true element. While cheer skirts became devastatingly enticing when you wore them, something about pajama pants that pooled at your feet for the entirety of being too long with sweaters that swallowed your tiny hands in comparison to his truly had his heart cinching with the tight grasp of utter devotion.

It became the only thing that inveigled him to make the thirty minute trek across town to deliver your demands. What a surprise it was when Chrissy Cunningham revealed the dealer, himself, never offered her home visits, after too many complaints of making the eerie journey through the woods to receive her goods had you suggesting to your friend to give him the call you did weekly. But a groaned out, “You know he’d never do that; his whole ‘I don’t come to you, you come to me’ policy,” had you perplexed in the face. He had never disclosed you of that. Huh.

“For the love of God, please just let me be right for once.” Eddie huffed, as his calloused hand collected itself around the gutters that followed alongside your home, which provided him the leverage to denounce the white window sills with dirty scuff marks of Hawkins’ muddy winter sleet.

How more pathetic could you possibly look? A frown had permanently etched itself onto your face, where a fake smile was once plastered before Lucy Coleman informed you of the fact that no one was showing up to your scheduled ‘Homecoming’s Coming Home Girls Night.’ God, you even had a cute name for it… ish.

Freaking twenty-one-year-old multiplex ushers.

Giving up the bathroom for the night, a trip following the banister down to the kitchen became a dangerous game of stuffing your feelings with carbohydrates you’d eventually come to regret the next morning. Your father had made the safe assumption to ignore the ruckus of opening cabinets and crinkling wrappers that appeared behind him from the living room, because eighteen years of living with you had taught him you were always one, “are you okay?” away from exploding from the angsty teenage rage that bubbled inside you. By tomorrow, you’d eventually come to him with a sadden face and wails of a hurt tummy, and just like you were seven, he’d be there to comfort you with a hearty breakfast and open arms.

Littered posters, rumpled white sheets of little red heart, a vanity besmirched with powders and glitters, and a heavy resemblance of laundry piles that mimicked his bedroom floor—saved from the blacks and denim, only colors and lace this time. If, for whatever reason, this wasn’t your bedroom, Eddie Munson would be heavily concerned.

With an artillery load of snacks on hand, your father followed your huffy stomps through the living room and up the stairs. “Wanna save me some?” A joke terribly unappreciated on your part, as a scowl met his lighthearted smile.

Your bare toes dug into the carpeted steps to solidify your displeased mood. A little dramatic, and unserious, but only targeted to your flippant father, who found amusement in the little jabs that made your face crease like your mother’s. The actual hurt and betrayal that lingered within was still discreetly churning in your belly with the fretful epiphany of how lonely your friends made you feel.

But as mentioned, that’d be a discussion for tomorrow morning, when you could cry into your scramble eggs.

One step at a time, the view of your bedroom door—cracked, and flooding the hallway with the mustardness of lamps—came to light, as a guttural sigh left your mouth as a “fuck you” to the stir of messes you felt, pounding at your head with no mercy, as if the shitty friends you had wasn’t enough, they were capable of making you feel horrible, awful things.

Yeah, fuck yo- “Ah!”

Bags of chips and wrappers of candy avalanched down the doorway of your bedroom, as Eddie Munson’s already large eyes rounded to the ghastliness of yours, hunched and frozen in stance of that of a burglar, and suddenly Eddie was coming to the realization of how utterly creepy he looked.

“Sweetpea?!”

“Hon?!”

A call from the living room, a call from your parents’ room; your mother and father’s voice boomed with concern of what could be another dramatic yell fueled by teenage temper or actual danger. But Eddie’s surrendering hands, with a look of desperate apologies that had to go unspoken unless he wanted to be caught by your parents had made it apparent that Hawkins’ local drug dealer who wandered about with a gaudy jewelry and hair you’d like to braid had little to offer when it came to harm.

Also, the way in which his fretful finger was comically signaling to his prized lunchbox had let the understanding of business ventures finally hit you.

“S-Sorry! Um, giant spider!” Stifling their consternation of any imminent danger, Eddie cracked a tiny smile, before treading down to your feet to pick up what he caused to drop in the first place.

One after another, your pile of snacks were now being examined under the scrutiny of your drug dealer. “Friends coming over for a sleepover or somethin’?”

Insulting. “No.” You mumbled with a particular sass he hadn't usually been indulged in, that had him quietly chuckling. God, him and your father would get along.

Sat aside on your bedside table to be feasted upon when cute, unwarranted company couldn’t witness the giant devour, you quietly closed your bedroom door, and stood watching Eddie Munson awkwardly swing his arms.

“You’re probably-”

“So, um-

“Oh, I’m sorry, go ahead.” He encouraged you with a tight-lipped smile.

You shrugged, and sat upon the edge of your bed. “I was just going to ask why you snuck into my room… at this hour.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “No, yeah, um, I realize how weird this must be, but, uh,” his eyes gallivanted to the notable furniture that adorned your bedroom—bookshelf, arm chair, desk—to avoid the knowing look on your face he’d have to be met with, because for whatever reason it was, it was now just painfully dawning on Eddie Munson how terrible of a move this was. “Well, I was just heading home, passing through the neighborhood,” lie, “and realized you weren’t at the party- Reeves’, I mean, you weren’t at Reeves’ party.”

And you truly gave the man, himself, little to offer with your subtle, “yeah,” that would force him to grab a crowbar to pry what little information he was willing to take for the night if it meant you’d just keep talking to him.

“Just, uh, all your friends were there, bought from me n’ all, but, um, I don’t know, just kinda figured you’d be there with them since you always are.” He mustered out, as his eyes rapidly jumped about to scan the movements of your body. “And, well, didn’t see my number one customer.”

And Eddie smiled, as your heart began pattering with stirring feelings that had your throat tightening with disbelief. “You came to check on me?” So softly spoken.

“No, no.” Oh. How more embarrassing can this get for you? He might as well point and laugh in your face for being so lonely. “I-I, um, thought I could, uh, drop off your usual, y’know, squeeze in some extra cash.” Of course. “I saved you some.” Eddie patted his battered box.

He watched your body deflate, and suddenly he wondered why he went that route, when it clearly caused the frown line on your face to deepen. “Right, um, thanks.” You sighed. Junk food and weed? At the very least, you could be high when crying tonight.

One second to open your bedside drawer, but another second halted by Eddie’s voice that stopped your movements from stretching to reach for your wallet inside. “I- y’know what? Free of charge.” He propped open the metal lid to grasp onto the reserved baggie of the usual half ounce, before placing the lunchbox down to hand the substance to you. And he read you confused look quickly, as your hand hesitantly graced his fingers to take the goods. “Just, um, loyal customer, figured I should give back.”

“Eddie, you already gave me a discount, I really don’t mind paying.” A promise to indemnify him for all that he already did.

“Ah, well, you should, because I’ll be terribly offended if you do pay me.” He broke a smile that had your shoulders slumping with relaxation. “Just, uh, gotta let me hang here for a minute, if that’s okay with you.”

“You want to stay here?”

“Food, weed, and your company? C’mon, what kind of man would I be to pass up that opportunity?” And thankfully, that was enough confidence to have you shyly giggling before him. “Just a little break before I head home, I guess.”

“Had too much fun partying?” You teased.

“Think I would’ve had more fun if you were there.” Oh, no. Pattering heartbeats, and now fluttering butterflies disrupt the peace of your tummy, as Eddie stared down at you. “Mind if I sit, uh, next to you, or over there, or wherever?”

You nodded to his request, complying by moving to the center of your bed, where you and Eddie sat back in the bundle of your rumpled duvet and pillows. A pregnant pause consumed over, as Eddie chose to linger in the silence to get a good view of the knick knacks that disheveled your room perfectly, and you admired the glow in which his profile became illuminated by. With bouncing eyes, it became the shiny embroidery of gold italics on the velvet sash that read “Homecoming Court” that paired cheaply with the tiny, plastic $3.99 Party City tiara that had dug into your scalp for the three hours you had to endure that night that caught Eddie’s attention.

“You win?” He abrasively asked.

“Uh, no.” You quietly answered. “Chrissy Cunningham got the bigger crown.”

Eddie nodded along. “Figures.” He added. “She’s sweet.”

It was your turn to nod, as the lips concaved into your teeth, while your fingers rustled with the plastic baggy in hand. “Yeah, she is.”

“Kinda boring, though. Don’t you think?” He tossed his head back to meet his eyes upon yours.

“Chrissy?”

“No- well, not really, I mean Chrissy winning, y’know? Carver, too.” He clarified, as he watched your face with the suggestions he was making. “Like, why even vote- or hell, go to that shitshow if we already know who’s going to win? At the very least, throw in a curveball. Like-Like, Johnny Katowski.” Eddie laughed.

“The kid from chess club?” You quietly giggled, as Eddie sat up.

“Yeah, him!” He declared. “How great would it be to see a kid like him winning Homecoming King, I mean, he may have bitched me out when I knocked into his lunch table and messed up his little figurines-”

“Pawns?”

“Yeah, pawns.” He laughed. “But the point is, why not give some other people the light, y’know?”

“Oh, well, Johnny Katowski is a really nice person, but I think he’d be too shy to enjoy everyone staring at him.” You quietly spoke, as you fiddled with your fingers under Eddie’s stare. “But, um, other people like you?”

“I meant other people like you.” Eddie smiled. “I’m too good to be king.” He joked, as you laughed at his cockiness. “I’m sure that dance would’ve been better if you had won, ‘s all. Just like the party.”

Your brows raised with gentle curiosity. “Oh, did you not have a good time at the dance?”

“Oh, no,” he waved you off, “didn’t even go. Dances aren’t exactly my thing, sweetheart.”

You softly giggled. “You didn’t go to the dance, but you went to the afterparty?”

“Can’t exactly sell my supply on school premises, Y/N.” Eddie jokingly protested. “And even so, you went to the dance and not the afterparty.” Like tightening rope around your throat, your gut was hit with the simple analysis Eddie concurred. Though rather obvious, it somehow manifested worse coming out in the words of others around you who clearly saw the disconnect between you and your friends. Sure, a little more information would solidify it, but in the overworking mind of intrusive thoughts that made up your mind, Eddie’s phrase managed to concoct the notion that all of Hawkins High was now acutely aware of the fact that the ties of friendship with the girls closest to you was now being severed at the hands of no longer wanting you. “Hey, you okay?” His face lowered to catch yours, only to quickly move as you suddenly cleared your throat whilst straightening your comfortable posture.

“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired, I guess.” You mumbled, providing him a small smile to end whatever prodding he was about to dig into. You no longer wanted it.

“Oh.” He spoke. “Um, you want me to leave, leave you alone?”

“No, no.” You assured him. “It’s okay.”

Another silent pause. Eddie Munson laid his cards on the table. A, he could cut the awkwardness short, and be on his way back home, sufficed with the fact that he, at least, got more words out of you than the usual “thank you, here’s your money, see you next week” routine, that he’ll be stuck with for the rest of the school year, until you inevitably leave for college- I mean, good for you, but then he would be stuck with a whirlwind of what if’s that would eat him alive, all while you got the live your prosperous life in god knows what city, where some dude who actually had to balls to make a move on you would get the honor of being called your boyfriend. Deep breath. Or B, he could just be a friend right now, because it really looked like you needed one.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” You slowly peered up at him. “I mean, like, you’ve always been kinda quiet, just, y’know, from seeing you around, but you seem a little more down now. Like mime quiet.” He smiled, eliciting a worn giggle from you. “Just feel like you have something to say, but you’re not saying it.”

“I…” you sighed, “it’s really stupid, Eddie.” Because suddenly sitting back with Eddie—whose personal life details were spread around town for the sake of small town gossip to enact who could and could not associate with the shunned of Hawkins, Indiana—your problems felt entirely too small. The last thing he needed was to be drowned by your superficial problems. The last thing you needed was to be judged for feeling the way you did, when Eddie Munson would give the reality check of a lifetime, and tell you to grow up. “Yeah, just, um, really miniscule things that I don’t, uh, wanna annoy you with.” You attempted to laugh off.

“I asked you.” Eddie stated matter-of-factly. “You’re not gonna annoy me when I’m literally asking to hear you, sweetheart.” He chuckled in disbelief at your resigned behavior, baffled by the notion you could even believe anything about you to be bothersome. “C’mon, just say it, say it with your chest, just lay it all on me. Can’t do any good to keep it in, no?”

Eddie Munson had quite the knack of being a cute motivational speaker, as your giggles caused by his coltish self seemed to abate the linger tussle of depressive hesitancy in your mind. “It’s just… y’know, my friends, n’ all.” A hearty grunt of agreement coming from Eddie had you laughing through your words, as his face of distaste for your friends made it easier to speak. “Like, I just know they-they don’t want me- or, at least, it really feels like that. God, Eddie I rented out all these movies, bought some face masks- which are really expensive, by the way, and these damn snacks, ugh. Why-Why is some lame party more important than my plans, than me? They just don’t care! And I get I’m more quiet than them, but why does that mean I have to be left out of everything?! A-And, y’know, they always say I’m a bummer, but they don’t think about the fact that they make me a bummer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love shopping just as much as the next guy, but knit-picking everything that’s wrong with how a dress looks on me isn’t exactly going to make me an ecstatic person, y’know?!”

Eddie Munson used to be able to count the number of words you spoke to him on the fingers of one hand. And right now, that was, at least, twenty-five singular hands. And the thought had him smiling in the distance, when in actuality, that stagnant pause was an invitation for him to speak, as per a normal conversation. So it became that very smile that had your stomach flipping with ignominy at the fact that your overthinking thoughts were transpiring right in front of you: Eddie Munson thought your problems were laughable.

A quiet “huh” was all he had to say.

“Well?” Your face, unfortunately, contorted with desperate validation. “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?” Almost accusatory, but in all seriousness, his lack of words were only cementing the scary thought that infested your head: you were the problem.

While deliberating, Eddie was really trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, he really was. But for the love of god, why were you allowing these people to have this much sway over your life? Three days ago, Courtney Keller, co-captain of Hawkins High’s cheer team, who conveniently sat a desk over in Eddie Munson’s English literature class thanks to Ms. O’Donnell’s tyrannical assigned seating, was overheard asking if Romeo and Juliet had been inspired by the 1978 cult classic Grease. Ah, yes, because William Shakespeare surely looked to a Hollywood blockbuster love story of a goody-two-shoes and greaser to write his most notable play. These were the people making you miserable?! You bombarded your letterman jacket with a bunch of tiny, obscure pins for crying out loud! Only you could make those god awful, gaudy, green jackets look remotely cool. Not to mention the fact that when looking at you from a distance—totally not creepy—Eddie could make out those funky, little doodles that indented the cover of your notebooks, before being thrown into your stuffed locker of knick knacks and stickers. Pins and doodles? Totally cool in Eddie Munson’s book.

Okay, maybe not the most substantial aspects to determine one’s coolness, and perhaps, most wouldn’t look to the super, super senior to constitute what is, but the fact of the matter was that Eddie Munson, himself, thought you were pretty damn cool, so who the hell were some peaked-in-high-school nobodies to tell you otherwise?

“What do I think? Uh, how do I put this?” Eddie reiterated, playing out the right words to confront you with. Though, Eddie Munson wasn’t necessarily one to speak so eloquently. “I think you’re kinda acting like a dumbass,” and your fallen face had him stuttering into recovery, “n-no, I mean, like, not that you’re dumb or anything, you’re really fucking smart. It’s just, I dunno, c’mon, you’re smart enough not to let them bother you.” He exasperated.

“Like-”

“Like- sorry,” he interrupted, “I just mean that you’re so much better than them. Like, in every aspect, you have so much more going on than their puny life.”

“Well, according to them, I don’t even have a life.” You grumbled, knees wedging themselves against your chest to provide the perfect burial for your head.

Eddie sighed, choosing to sit up against the headboard of your bed to get your smushed face to follow his movements. “Hate to break it to your sweetheart, but getting shitfaced at some boring party isn’t exactly the epitome of having a life. I mean, sure, maybe to the people who thrive in small town shitholes like this place,” and luckily, Eddie was able to follow along with your airy giggles, “but you and I? Hell, no, babe, nuh-uh, we were made for bigger shit than Hawkins.” He smiled.

And you smiled, too. “Like New York?”

“Like New York.”

“Ooh, or somewhere pretty like Paris or Marseille?” Your head finally perked up.

“Sure… I mean, I think I can put up with French people for you.” He joked, letting that genuine laugh fall from your lips so effortlessly. “Kinda draw the line at eating snails, though.”

You gasped dramatically. “What?! You’re telling me you’ve never tried Benny’s escargots?!” Yeah, you were way cooler than any Courtney Keller clone.

Eddie’s head leaned back, as his hearty laughs quietly fanned your face, until the atmosphere was finally at peace with steady breaths. “I mean it, sweetheart, just gotta look them right in the eyes, use those big, beautiful things you got, and tell them to fuck right off.”

While undeniably making your heart patter in your chest, Eddie Munson’s comment also served to become the catalyst for the most humiliating moment of your life. With your face turned away into your knees to shield him from the lovesick smile you were embarrassingly about to flash him, you terribly missed the single opportunity it would have taken to redirect Eddie’s devastatingly—for you—short attention span away from the beaming jewel that rested in your still opened drawer.

“What’s this?” Pink and glimmering under the lowlight of your lamps, Eddie couldn’t resist the encrusted jewel lined with silver. And you hummed in question, oblivious to his findings, turning around all too late. “In your nightstand.” His hand inching closer and closer.

In your nightstand, in your nightstand, in your nightstand, echoing like a nightmare on repeat, as your eyes widened at the epiphany that Eddie Munson had found your- “Don’t touch that!” Your father’s brow cocked, wondering what movie it was this time eliciting dramatic reactions from you. But Eddie’s calloused fingers had already grappled onto the silver handle, pulling out what was beyond mortifying for you, as the lamp shade had fully revealed what concealed item contained that sparkling decoration.

“Oh, damn…” Eddie blinked, swallowing the nothingness of his throat, as a stir began to tickle his naval just below the belt. Both sets of eyes glued to the bulbous end of your plug, though Eddie’s incoming smirk seemed to differentiate tremendously to your gaping mouth of disbelief, where you sat frozen in horror at the events transpiring before you. Held like a priceless jewel, Eddie examined your personal toy with a devious smile to pair. “You use this? Like, it really goes up your ass?”

Your internal being was screaming at the top of your lungs, all masked by the stoic features of your face that refused to accept the reality of what was happening. “Eddie.” You managed to mutter out. “Please, put that back!” Harsh whispers smacked him in the face. “Eddie, I- sorry, just please, I’ll-”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” His free hand came to secure itself around your knee, allowing that tightening breath to finally make its escape from the anxious hold in your chest. “Really, I just- it’s cool, just caught me by surprise ‘s all.”

“Okay, well, can you please just put it back, and forget this ever happened?” You pleaded, wishing him away for the night, hoping to never meet his eyes, the same eyes that made your butt plug fall under scrutiny. “I swear, it’s not mine- well, it is, but, like, I didn’t buy it, my stupid friends, ugh-”

Palms digging into the sockets of your eyes, you wielded this as your punishment, hoping the pain would come to mask the utter humiliation of Eddie finding your personal belongings. Uptight, they joked. Laughing with those giggles you learned to despise as you unwrapped the decorative paper that covered your birthday present. A book, a journal, sketch pencils, or plant, any and everything that could have sufficed as personal presents that would have been highly appreciated. But your friends seeked another personal route, with the jabbing comment of wanting you to “loosen up.” And so what, gag gift or not, the use of that particular toy came about as no one else’s business, because while the contribution came at the expense of the devastating realization that your friends were grade A assholes, there was no judgment in exploring yours- GOD.

“Hey, seriously, sweetheart.” Eddie’s hands came to pry yours away, letting his lighthearted eyes cast away the round, sadness of yours. “I just, y’know, didn’t think you were like that- or into that.”

“Oh, right, because I’m so uptight and boring.” You defensively rolled your eyes at him, before attempting to move from your spot next to him, but Eddie worked quicker to keep you in place.

He spoke earnestly. “Hey, no, don’t put words in my mouth, I didn’t say that.” Eddie sighed, jumping through the endeavors to show his action didn’t come maliciously. “Seriously, you know that, alright. Don’t think of me as being that kind of person.”

You sighed in defeat. “Eddie, this is just beyond humiliating.” And he desperately just wanted to take a hold of your adorably sullen face.

“I don’t think it’s humiliating.” He smiled, of course, it wasn’t his butt plug in his hand. “Think it’s kinda… intriguing. L-Like, sexy.” Your eyes peered to his height, searching for the laughter of a joke you swore was about to follow. But Eddie Munson had never lost the hold of your eyes, piercing his through yours to strike that flame in your body with a burning match.

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” His fingers continuously fiddling with your toy in hand, as his pants tightened at the mere thought of it being inside of you. What you did, late at night, to destress, finding an escape in the pleasure of being plugged, and played with. “Knowing what you like, testing your body, yeah, sweetheart, it’s really fucking sexy.” He slyly eyed you down, as your throat went dry under his dark stare. “Wouldn’t even mind seeing it.”

“W-What?” You stuttered out, thighs tightening to rub that aching thump brewing between your legs. “Like, um-”

“If you’re okay with it, Y/N,” Eddie took over for you, “I’d like to see how you make yourself feel good.”

Your mouth gulped like a fish out of water, trying to find the right words that were lost in the tangled disarray that was your overthinking mind, beating heart, fluttering tummy, and pulsating heat. But even that gnawing anxiety couldn’t deny you the unbearable urge to have Eddie Munson ravish you. “I- right now?” You spoke so quietly, nodding to the sentiment.

“Yeah,” his tongue drenched his lips with one swipe, “let’s just say it’s for, uh, educational purposes, what do you say? Might even, y’know, get your mind off things. Relax. Feel good. Better than that fucking weed can do.” His ringed hand took a hold of the plastic baggie from your side to place away in your nightstand- inside, where you apparently held your most precious items.

You swallowed the nerves away, allowing yourself the selfish pleasure of Eddie’s touch to wash away the heavy troubles of your mind. You want this. You deserve this. “Please?” So delicately spoken.

“Yeah?” He sneered. You nodded. Under his gaze, you made the move onto your knees to comfortably shift out of your pajama shorts, but your hands couldn’t move further than grasping onto your waistband, before Eddie made a quick call to stop you. “Woah, woah, what are you doin’, sweetheart?”

Your mouth opened to speak, but you froze in the awkward position, and eyed him worriedly. Surely, you couldn’t have possibly read this entirely wrong. “I- you said you wanted to see, like, taking off my clothes.” You meekly explained, as the burns of a suffocating bonfire blazed your cheeks with embarrassment.

“No, c’mon, baby, you gotta let me be a gentleman first.” Eddie chuckled. “Can’t just start fillin’ you up without kissing you. Get over here.” He patted his lap.

Your leg thrown over his had you seated on the thickness of Eddie’s thigh, as the skin of yours nipped at the graying denim of his black jeans. Plug aside, his fingers teased at the seam of your shorts to encourage your hands to place themselves on his chest, where he saw you hesitantly reaching for. Feeling the cracking print of his worn band tee had suddenly brought you a sense of contentment, allowing you to comfortably press your weight onto his legs, a sign of snugness that had him smiling at you lovingly. Goosebumps arose in the wake of Eddie’s fingers brushing down the sides of your thighs to connect with the creasing of your knees, finding the fold as leverage to bring you forth.

Chest to chest. Nose to nose. “You gonna give me what I’ve been dreamin’ about?” Your lips grazed the oncoming stubble of his upper lip, just seconds of subtle, bare touches that were feeding into that aching desire igniting inside both of you, before fully securing your mouth upon his. Eddie’s lips became a suction, refusing to let you go, as his hand crept with security to the back of your neck. Your tiny moans melted into the kiss, with tenuous grinds against his bulge that bent the zipper of his jeans, all too deliciously for Eddie to handle, leaving his mouth drowning with saliva that slicked your lips with the taste of Eddie Munson. “Don’t have to worry about anything with me.” He murmured into you.

A hungry “mhm” was all that could be trusted to come out of you, as your hips rolled with greed, entirely fueled by his tantalizing hand that squeezed at any fat he could latch onto.

“Everybody deserves a break, baby.” He cemented with firm pecks that left your lips raw with the sound of spit smacking to echo into your ear. “Just let me be nice to you- let me be so fucking nice to you.” You nodded against his face, nose bumping with harsh breaths, as neither of you could find the will to pull away. “Let’s- fuck, let’s get these off now, pretty.” Eddie snapped your stretchy waistband against your hip.

Tingles coursed through your legs, as you found the strength to dig your pedicured feet into the rug of your bedroom, and stand before him. His blunt nails gently scratched down your legs to invigorate you to declothe. Your bottoms slid down, pooling at your feet, before you stepped out to have your pussy on display for him.

“Mm.” Eddie lowly hummed, enthralled by your mound, so perfectly decorated with the hairs of your pubes, and puffed between your thighs. “Damn, you standing here without your shorts makes me wanna listen to music.” He smiled.

Your brow pointed, gifting him the sight of your confused, little face that had him chuckling at you. “What?” You asked.

“Y’know,” he snickered, “‘cause I wanna use your thighs as headphones.”

Your girlish giggled made him feel good about his awful joke, finding all enjoyment in seeing your hands cutely hide your face from the shyness of your nature, despite standing bare in front of him. “Eddie, that’s so corny.” You laughed.

“But I got a smile out of you, s’all I care about.” His hands came to yours to twiddle with your fingers that differed from his thick ones, lavished in the loud jewelry he brandished. “So, uh, I imagine I gotta get you ready first, y’know, wet. Don’t wanna hurt you.” You softly nodded to confirm his words, suddenly feeling the tickles in your belly moisten you, as the realization of this actually happening was becoming truer by the second. “Somewhat of a handyman, myself, can grab some DW40 or somethin’.”

“Eddie.” You flirtatiously chastised, mewling a whine of gauche, of which you had a real talent of making cute.

He laughed. “Look, look, there’s no… romantic or- fuck, I dunno, chivalrous way of asking someone if you can eat their ass, so can I just eat you ass, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s unabashed bluntness had your face burning with the intoxicating sensations of humiliation and want, brewing something nasty in you that always laid dormant under the unexplored aspects of your desires. Leave it to Eddie Munson to elicit that filth with the raunchy words of his mouth that already showed you just how sinfully good it could make you feel. Just for you, you hoped. But surely, Eddie had to have obtained these skills from some practice. And you wondered if that’s what you were. Practice for the next gal to have her world rocked. Or… just thoughts. Loathsome thoughts, the very things Eddie has dedicated to clearing from your pretty head, because someone with a face like yours, and being so sweet had no reason to suffer, as you did. Practice? God, no, you were just everything. So Eddie Munson made sure to give you everything.

“Yeah.” You tenderly answered. “Just, um- well, I already showered for the night before you came here, but, like, I can, you know, clean up-”

“Baby-”

“Just so you’re comfortable with every-”

Roughed by heavy car parts and heated guitar strings, his all but soft hands felt so gentle in yours, with fingers dancing in the intertwine of a caring hold, flooding you with security, as his eyes without word complimented the contours of your figure silently but so earnestly. Eddie squeezed your hand. Eyes searching inside you through yours. “Stop, stop.” Your nervous rambling came to halt. “I don’t care. I know you’re clean, I wanna taste you.”

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath. A squeeze back to show love to his tough hand. “Yeah, okay.”

A smile breached his face. “That’s what I like to hear. C’mon, bend over for me, pretty, let me ease you from your mind.”

With the rumpled duvet sinking with the load of your limbs carrying you to the center, the air felt cold against the oozing slickness of your bare cunt, spreading its welcome with the curvature of your back with tits hung from their weight on your chest, as you allowed yourself the liberty of resting your head upon your pillow. The falling of Eddie’s creased sneakers against your floor appeared louder than reality when blood was pumping in your ears to the overworking beat of your heart. Naked and vulnerable, several deep breaths were taken to appease that anxious thought in the back of your head of what you might look like to a boy you liked so dearly, but nothing ameliorated you better than the waking touch of Eddie’s hand against your ass.

“Fuck.” And suddenly his voice had a way of coaxing your hands to relax against the harsh hold of your sheets. His hands rounded the globes of your ass, feeling the fat wobble beneath, when a sharp spank landed on your right cheek, forcing you to suppress the whine with a metallic bite to your lip.

You mewled out your reprimand “Eddie! My parents are still here!” Having to whisper your frustrations, because now having a taste of what an Eddie Munson spanking could do, you wanted more, but couldn’t under a parental household.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He chuckled, a complete lie he muttered just to calm you, because forcing your ass to ripple with the slam of his hand would be nothing he’d apologize for. “It really is just so spankable.” Eddie’s hands worked to massage the brief sting of his abuse that had you quietly pushing back for more. “So fucking perfect, all soft n’ shit in my hands. Nice to just fucking grab, and spread apart like that- fuck.” Fingertips digging into the dough of your cheeks had pulled your pussy lips to reveal strings of sweet arousal, and two pulsating holes Eddie was desperate to fill. “That’s so fucking beautiful.” His thumbs came to brush the hairs of your lips, inspecting what he was about to cherish on his tongue.

His soft proclamations had you smitten with a smile that would surely strike him to his knees if flashed at him, but you contained yourself in the soft fuzz of your sweater that pooled at your breast to allow him the pleasure of running his course down your spine. Just an exploration of your body, feeling all his could while he can, because while your mind had a funny way of overthinking, his did, too; Eddie Munson was slapping himself to right your worries, because one wrong word, one wrong touch, one wrong stroke of his tongue had him rampant in the head that you’d leave disappointed in his actions. Forever.

“Eds.” But as Eddie Munson was there to ease you, you were there to ease Eddie Munson. You’ve nicknamed his status to something closer than drug dealer. And the salacious click of your tongue had you proving to wanting to push that status further.

Eddie smiled at the possibility. Your gasps were all that could be heard next, feeling the tip of his wet tongue browse your tight hole, as your ass swallowed him in. His mouth lathered you with the spit that once coated yours, though now preparing your asshole for the stretch he’d succumb you to, lips nipping at your hole that had you salivating your moans into your pillow. A feeling all too foreign for you, allowing someone in your most intimate area, and Eddie took it with such delicacy, manifesting all his love for your ass in the mewls he shoved between your cheeks.

It quickly found itself to be something better than lubricating your ass with the use of your slick and prodding your hole with a curious finger. Eddie had managed to bring depraved sensations with the globs of his spit and the intrusion of his tongue, forcing itself to snake past the pulses that attempted to keep him out. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Pumps and pumps of his wet muscle tickling the walls of your tight ass, as his hands pinched your body in tight grips, shaking all fat in his vicinity to do everything to be consumed by you.

“Eddie!” You hugged your pillow, suddenly feeling the fire of your warm sweater, as your ass danced along his face. “Want you to- mm! Want you to keep doing that!”

“Sorry if I’m takin’ long, baby.” Like spitting the taste of nicotine out of his mouth, a warm glob of saliva impurely landed on you, giving leeway for his thumb to massage your squeezing hole, before submerging in with your moans to accompany. “Just really wanna make sure you’re ready. Fuck, and, um, I know I said I just wanted to see how a plug works, but can I please eat at your pussy, baby, it’s right there.” God, he could smell you enticing him, seeing your pussy hole clench completely neglected as your asshole got the fun of his touch.

“Yes, please, Eddie, just want your mouth on me.” Hips thrusting back to chase what left, leaving him with nothing to do but smile and ravage your thighs and hips and sweet kisses.

“Nasty, little fucking thing, aren’t you?” He proffered no time to answer, giving himself what he wanted, face becoming smeared with the gleam of your wetness. Your pussy tickled under the scratch of his light stubble on your lips, the shoving of his nose in your sopping hole, and his tongue flicking of your clit igniting every prurient urge you ever tried to satiate on your own.

That delicious tang of your cunt infiltrated every sense within him, surrounding him in nothing but you— the hearing of you, the sight of you, the smell of you, the touch of you, the taste of you. Your raw bud throbbed under the exploitation of his mouth, sucking the shockwaves to cause your thighs to quake.

“Too much. Eds- fuck me, I can’t, s-sto- uh!” Your hand reached back at an attempt to push him away from the stampeding orgasm you were too insecure to experience him seeing. But no matter the sting of your pretty nails digging into his scalp, nothing was stopping Eddie from seeing the sheer tremble, cry, and gush he could bring your body to.

With his thick thumb plunging into your asshole, his free hand sadistically pulled at your cheeks to expose as much of your pussy as he could, leaving you to mewl at the stretch of your skin. The sole separation of your puffy lips had him moaning at the sight; such a tight pussy hole aching for something to fill it, needing to squeeze down to spark your greedy orgasm. “Shit, fucking pussy pulsating just for me.” His tongue buried itself inside, letting his finger fall to pinch at your vibrating bud, rewarding it with the tight circles of rubs that felt unbearable. “Taste so fucking delicious!” His words were barely eligible in the crevices of your cunt, but they provided all sensation to push you into your tonic state. “Cum for me, fucking cum!”

Fucked by his tongue and finger, you no further denied him, unleashing a gush of your spent to ravish his mouth, as your holes kept him in place with their tightening hold. If it wasn't for the fault of your parent’s bedroom being on the other side of your home, they would have surely heard the vulgar corruption of sweat and sex condensing the air of their daughter’s bedroom.

“Fuc- mm, uh…” Like a Pavlov dog, your pillow had soaked itself wet from the salivation of your chewed lips, as your legs shook under the grasps of Eddie’s hands.

“Shhh, baby, I’m gonna put it in. Let me play with it.” When limbs went numb after orgasmic bliss, the dealer knew now was the time your body would accept it. Gaping from the size of his thumb, Eddie’s gentle insertion made the process enjoyable, placing a delicate kiss to your asshole, before your plug was indulged in the tightness of your ass. Now crowned with a pretty, pink jewel to top. And you mewled, softly shaking your ass to adjust to your decoration, trying to find feeling in your shaky legs. “God, you sound so fucking cute.” He rubbed your ass with groping hands. “Don’t let that get into your head, though, I’m still in control here.” Eddie chuckled.

Despite falling limp, Eddie’s strength found no trouble in pulling you onto his lap, once he fell back onto his calves. While a hammering bulge was fighting back against the restraints of his cuffed belt, you couldn’t deny the fact that he didn’t feel the satisfaction of a bursting orgasm, yet your mind pondered on the reasons as to why his heart was pounding so profusely against your spinning head. Your hand splayed against his chest, as you peered up at him. “Are you nervous?”

Eddie Munson swallowed thickly. And ignored you completely. “You’re a really dirty fucking girl for playing with yourself like that all alone.” His hands pinched at the sweaty skin of your back, as your face contorted with the creases of confusion at his now unnecessary comment. “But… now you have me, though, right? Gonna play with me always?” Though, any confidence Eddie previously had speaking to you that way was gone under your scrutinizing stare, and you could hear it in the slight quiver of his voice. Because Eddie Munson wasn’t trying to dirty talk you. No, Eddie Munson was trying to seek your desire to want him around.

And you gave it to him. “Yeah.” Free of any sexual suggestion, because Eddie knew you saw through his assertive facade, piercing at his vulnerability and choosing to accept it through the deep breath of relief of his nose.

With his tongue swiping at the surrounding areas of his lips, you assisted his clean-up, thumbing at the gleam that coated his chin, subsequently letting the burden of his heavy head fall into your gentle hands. “Y’know, I see you a lot at parties- like, more than just us doing deals, I see you.” He cleared his throat. “And I’ve had this thing. This, uh, really big thing for you for a long time now, Y/N. A-And I know it’s your friends dragging you to these parties, but, I dunno, when I see you you just look so… meek, I guess, but like in a good way. Like, this whole elegance you got to you.”

Both you and Eddie stumbled into soft giggles at his boyish articulation, trying to grasp the concept of feelings from a man who’s never been graced with the excitement of committed reciprocation. But there was one thing for certain, Eddie Munson was damn sure trying this time. “Wouldn’t necessarily call myself elegant.” You chuckled.

“No, but you are.” He earnestly protested. “Y’know, you show up, not even wanting to, not saying a word, just keeping to yourself, and everyone just looks at you- notices you.”

In a town of Stacy Withers, Chrissy Cunninghams, Lucy Colemans, and Courtney Kellers, that felt like a big, fat lie smeared in your face. You brushed the stinging sentiment with quiet laughters of pain. “No one notices me, Eddie-”

“I notice you, Y/N.” He urged you to see, hands molding onto your body for fear of you not seeing what he gets to so lovingly see. His lips landed upon your cheek, brush-like strokes, dragging his affection to the canvas of your face, before a devout kiss seared your mouth to his. The swelling muscles of his arms squeezed to tighten around your back, savoring your being, and exploding when your sweater-clad arms mimicked his fervor around his neck, experiencing first-hand what was Eddie Munson’s first requited love. “Just to be here,” his lips spoke against yours, pausing to kiss away the ache that fell constant when your tongue wasn’t dancing upon his, “playing with you,” your mouths clicked with the slobber of his spit, ridden with the tart honey of your pussy juices, the same ones beginning to sog the stitching of his jeans, “just cracking that armor you got on, it’s heaven on Earth for me.” Your lips strung apart, as your thumbs soothed over his chasing movements, caressing the beating pulse point of his neck. But where you smiled, Eddie continued to try to kiss your upturn beam. “You’re not kissing me, why aren’t you kissing me?” He whined, trying to pull a pucker out of you. “Just smiling, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” giggling against his hungry lips.

“As pretty as you are smiling, I need you kissing me, baby.” Eddie playfully admonished with a hefty squeeze to your hip in a puerile way of presenting his frustration.

“It’s just,” late nights of perfecting the solos of various guitar sequences allowed your fingertips to skim over the delicate purpling of his under eyes, “I don’t know, Eddie, the night has just been really shitty, and you’ve somehow managed to make it a lot better.”

“Probably because I gave you one hell of an orgasm.” This time you’ll allow his refusal to accept the complimenting sincerity of your words, masking the mush of giddiness inside him with a comment of sex, because at least this one made you laugh in his hold.

“And other things, Eddie.” But there you were to peel that mask away, and dump your kindness of wanting him all over his walls. “You gave me other things.”

A building appreciation for yourself.

The cynicism of his eyes jumped hurdles to search for any fibbery he may have found himself trapped into, but you were so warm. To the touch, your skin sent his hands aflame with sparks of desire from the true benignity of your being. Warm eyes, warm lips, warm heart, working to secure a blanket of security over his shoulders from the sheets of coldness both of you have been offered by those who cared too little for your wellbeing. “Y/N, I need to tell you something.” His mouth moved without thought, as his body grew sore of ignoring the very thing it wanted: you. “Look, I’m just gonna jump right in, and say it, I want you to be mine- I want to be your boyfriend.” His eyes bounced around the brightening features of your face, creasing with lines to make room for the smile that enamored his chest. “But first I gotta prove to you.”

“Prove to me?” You gently prodded, mind working overtime to control your hands from balling the fabric of his shirt from uncontained excitement.

“See, I kinda just got this thing in my head, y’know, that I gotta prove my worth to you-”

“Eddie-”

“No, I know it sounds bad, but really, it’ll just be for my own peace of mind.” He assured you with the earnestness of his voice soothing the concern you were about to tackle to confirm Eddie Munson was, in fact, enough. “I know it might not be the biggest deal to you, but I just wanna be able to take care of you- like, please you. Make sure I can make you cum.” He whispered into your face.

You wondered where he was for the last five minutes, somehow forgetting the euphoria he had just pulled from you with the sole use of his tongue. “Didn’t- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but didn’t you already… just do that?”

“I mean make you cum l-like couples do.” He bashfully iterated, eyes falling down, as if he hadn’t spoken the dirtiest things to you before. Though, perhaps, the beginning stages of what would blossom into a loving relationship had the boy suddenly at the age of fourteen, wondering when that momentous occasion of a first girlfriend would come. Having sex a year later surely doubled the probability, though Nicole Summers wasn’t exactly one that stuck around to find out. “Won’t exactly feel too great if the only way I can get my girlfriend off is by one single way. Let me prove to you that I can be good for you.”

“Quite presumptuous of you to believe I would even say yes to you asking me out.” You’d a hundred percent say yes.

Eddie smiled, before the strength of a sole arm entrapped you soundly against his chest, as his torso dropped forward to lay back against the plushness of your bed. Before a sharp moan could elicit the concern of your parents, Eddie brought forth his mouth to yours, once his bulge caught a steady rhythm against your buzzing clit. “Don’t think,” his hot breath concocted with yours in the heated makeout, “I got to see your tits.” Too neglected for your liking, your sweater found itself bunched under your chin, under glowing lamp lights that shadowed your peaked nipples. “Fuck me, pretty girl, just too,” a kiss to your valley, “ fucking,” a kiss to your breast, “perfect.” Eddie Munson swallowed your pert bud whole.

“Mm, that’s so nice.” You quietly mewled, with polished fingernails delicately weaving through the tousled curls of his head, sweaty and dampened from a whirlwind of nightly activities.

His hands groped at the fat, squeezing them together to tongue at your nipples, harsh flicks that had you arching into his face. “Just too fucking beautiful for this world.” He nuzzled into your chest, his nose flaring hard to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume, crisp and clean just for him to lose himself in.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” A guttural groan burrowed its way out of Eddie’s throat, crawling forward to shove kisses along your cheek that had your head pressing into the softness of your pillow.

“Not gonna worry about your folks?” When the Indianapolis Colts saw a hopeless comeback of being seven to twenty-seven against the Dallas Cowboys, your father knew to save him the anger of witnessing another pass interference with a click of a button that blackened the screen; a definitive call for the night. The heavy steps of your father’s movements followed along the stairs, wood creaking with the shift of his weight to bring him amongst the bedroom doors of the second floor. One look at your door. As every night would go, a quick knock at your door would allow your father entry into your room, hopefully catching you in that green gunk of a facemask you’d like to smear on your face, to provide your father the perfect joke to hear that loving, “dad, stop!” But given the crotchety tone of your previous engagement, your father guessed he’d follow the the statement if his gifted ‘#1 DAD’ mug, and leave you for the night. Embarrassing you will have to wait for Saturday morning’s event. And off to bed he went.

You hadn’t even realized your luck, allowing Eddie Munson to bruise your neck, oblivious to the predicament you slid by. “We can be quiet.” You pleaded, running your legs along his to feel the scratch of his itchy jeans, desperate to receive any and all sensations against your exfoliated skin.

“Open your legs for me more.” Your thighs pried open to his body, sanctioning him the authority to squeeze all he could to bring lines of tingles to your core. “Good girl, feels so fucking good to finally be touching you. Your plug in good?” Sitting snug between your cheeks, where a sticky stream of your cream pooled down your ass, bringing an extra shine to the gem of your plug.

“Mhm, feels nice.” You dug into the sheets of your bed, hips pivoting forward to the chase of Eddie’s thumb massaging into the dough of your inner thighs, hoping they’d make their move to examine your pussy with the prying of his curious fingers.

“Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable ‘s all.” He mumbled. A hand invading the crease of your thigh and hip had him softly chuckling to himself; quiet guffaws of disbelief to the radiating fever warmth that was congenial from the suffocation of your meaty thighs.

Your bitten lips twisted into a pout. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Not laughin’ at you, baby.” He laughed. Eyeroll. “Just love that pussy heat, y’know?” Eddie callowly smiled, bringing forth a burn to your cheeks, as your watched wrinkles of titillation annex his face from the sheer look of your natural body. “I dunno, guess it kinda makes my head a little bigger knowing she’s waiting for me.” He became delirious on the hypnotics of your moving hips. “Fuck, want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

You were falling desperate under his command. Your nails dug their crescent shapes into his hand, skin flooding with the pumping veins from the stinging rush, an urgent call to have him finally give in. “Please, Eddie, been waiting too long.”

“Ah-ah, have some fucking manners first, not gonna get it that easily without asking nicely.” He tortuously tantalized with the coming of his hand beginning to lightly rake the wisps of your manicured pubes. A whine of despair was all he was met with, nothing but your hips attempting to gyrate his hand to your needy clit. “C’mon, don’t get all greedy on me, baby, remember this is about you, you’ll get it all eventually. Just need you to feel everything as much as possible. Let me just rub the outside; up and down.” The weight of his fingers interfered with the glue of your slick, now pulling at your pussy lips to showcase the rawness of your cunt, strung by webs of your syrup that had him itching to shove his tongue in once more. “And maybe, I’ll just take my finger,” his pointer, pushed out ever so lightly to tickle the wet skin below your pussy, before the rigid callouses dragged up to spark the nerves of your puffy labia, catching a rub to your erecting clit, “and touch you whenever I feel like it.”

Your breath became caught in strings of gasps. “Eds.” Purring with delight at the tease of his finger brushing at your impulses of sensation. “Please, please, can I have you?”

“Just wanted to see that sexy fucking smile you do when you get all excited.” Eddie admired, reveling in the twinkle that bedecked your face to light up from the touch of his fingers. “You are so fucking hot, man.” Mumbling to himself, his head refuting the belief of this being reality. But your body moved with the liveliness of feelings, your voice rang with melodies of harmony, and your smell infused his skin with the sweetness of sugar and oils; no matter how hard Eddie Munson’s eyes welded shut with dubiety, there was no dying the realness of a woman before him. “Wanna play a little game with you, baby.”

“A game?” Your voice softly upped in review of him, as he climbed over with a heavy hand turned soft to pet your head with loving strokes that matched the brief attachment of his lips to yours.

“Yeah, just a little one, nothing to worry about, just love seeing your face n’ everything.” He vaguely detailed, letting your mind lose itself to the softness of his peppered kisses. “First, you gotta any names you wanna call me: master, sir, daddy?”

Eddie watched your eyes shy away from his brashness, adorably being unable to endure the heat of his words. “Um,” your teeth pinched into your lips, “I-I think sir’s kinda nice.” You timidly admitted, only ever divulged by the encouragement of Eddie’s affection.

And he smiled against your lips, dragging his devotion to your cheek, temple, and forehead. “I think it’s kinda nice, too.” From you? Anything would have his body stirring. Eddie abruptly sat up from your body, his mangled hair briefly frizzing from the overhead reach of his shirt, that left his torso blank of any band tee he’d previously adorned. His abdomen came to light as a soft tummy lined with the harsh crevices of flexed muscles in a strive to show off a physique he thought would look best for you. But your warmhearted hand relaxed the strain of his stomach with a single stroke to his naval, sending shockwaves with every graze against his happy trail.

In the midst of pulling away the worn leather belt from the clinking metal buckle, your words swiftly halted his movements. “You’re very pretty, Eddie.”

His head bowed, soft laughter coming through the nostrils of his nose, as he shook his head with a smile that adamantly won over his face, despite a hefty attempt of biting his lip to keep it down. “Feel like I should be the one telling you that, look at you.”

“Would it be so wrong for you to hear the truth, too?” A smile so pure, it shot straight to his heart, causing a speed bump to the rhythmic beating of his chest.

His cheeks darkened with vulnerability. “I- yeah, you’re really about to fucking get it…” both of your soft laughter mingled into the air, as he tugged the length of leather from his belt loops, “…and thank you.” His lips pressed to your inner knee, whilst undoing his pants. But then, he paused. Eddie Munson had not even the slightest idea of how easily you were able to undress before him. Perhaps, it simply fell down to the principle of the matter that Eddie Munson was already head over heels crazy about you before you ever spoke to him. He’d like to thank Chrissy Cunningham- or, actually, whatever stress it was she was enduring for being the sole reason why she went seeking him that fateful Friday afternoon. Now, he understands the grossness of that sentiment, but, truthfully, as an aspiring entrepreneur, the problems of your clientele surely become the profit of your business. And while he wasn’t exactly looking to better this capitalist venture, it did, in fact, lead him to you. Standing in the back, watching reddening leaves fall to the ground, under the guise of being your friend’s lookout. C’mon, that rotting bench hadn’t seen company for years, Chrissy Cunningham was merely weary of his presence and needed backup. But gladly so, as for once, someone’s uncalled for judgment allowed him the privilege of staring at their pretty friend. So excuse him for suddenly falling insecure about the look of his body. You were quite literally everything to Eddie Munson. Would he be for yo-

“It’s okay.” What? “I want to see you, Eddie.” You smiled so perfectly.

Without notice, stirs of anxiety turned into fluttering butterflies in his belly. And Eddie Munson smiled back. Following the squeaks of your bed, he headed off, taking a hold of what was his pants and boxers into a tight grip, and finding the confidence to rid himself of any further clothing. Springing from confinement, seven inches of weight bobbed against his naval with a smack, as you relished in the sight of his cock with bulging veins that strained to pump blood to his scarlet, mushroom tip. Any concerns about the appearance of his area abruptly left his rampant mind, after witnessing the dragging pull of your plump lips opening for your mouth to widen in awe. Your thighs rubbing in heat, a desperate attempt to satiate that rubescent, needy clit that thudded with tingles from the mere sight of him naked.

Yeah, nothing to worry about- in fact, quite a large inflation to his ego. “Decent enough, huh?” His lips twisted with a sneer.

A deprived “mhm” moaned its way out of you.

Rushing to place himself between the warmth of your legs, Eddie positioned his cock to sit heavy against your tummy. His large balls of cum became immersed with the slick of your pussy, as his velvet skin rubbed against your drenched folds to fully show you the length of his member; nudging it to your belly button, whilst the chaos of his pubic hairs titillated your thighs. “This game, baby, the only thing with it is that you can only cum when I tell you.” His eyes kept a close watch of your rippling stomach with every smack of his cock he caused. “You understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” You sighed, becoming antsy with the tickle on your abdomen from the sheer weight of his dick.

“That’s the right fucking answer,” he darkly chuckled, “just gonna start playing with you, pretty girl.” His hand directed the fat tip of his cock to butt at your clit, forcing your hips to jolt awake with the electricity of pressure against your sensitive nub. “Just like that, you fucking like that, don’t you?”

“M-More, please.” You clawed at your bed sheets, stressing the material with every rub of his length against your cunt.

“Nah, baby, gonna treasure this, take it nice and slow.” He agonized, sucking in breaths with every tense of his balls, as you brought pulsating tingles to his body by doing nothing, but laying pretty. “Fuck, you really do something to me, whatever you got going on is doing a fucking number on me, sweetheart.” Saying all the right things to you, his words shot straight to your pussy, making it impossible to hold back your soft moans. “Honestly, baby, not really one to talk about my feelings, I guess, but you- everytime I come by knockin’ on your door, I just get these nerves n’ shit. Gotta talk to myself, too,” he husky laughter pierced so sexily, “honestly, like ‘damn, gotta pull yourself together, can’t let her pretty ass see you like this.’” Eddie’s cock dragged through your folds, separating strings of wetness to marinate on your raw cunt. “And I just wanted to kiss you for the longest, wanted to be right here playing with this fucking pussy.”

“I want you, fuck.” You heaved, hips chasing an itch he refused to have you revel in. “Always want you, Eddie.”

His cock spurred excitedly. “Shit, sweetheart, can’t say things like that to me, fuck.” Eddie’s tip ran through your slit, the swollen head now prodding at your hole, just a first glimpse of the stretch you were about to endure. “God, just having me lay here with you, seeing you, hearing you, touching you, it’s the greatest thing ever. Does that feel good baby? Like me teasin’ you?”

“Yes, sir, please, Eddie.” You hummed, trailing a high that was building too slowly for your liking. “Want more.”

“Mm, really like hearing you say that, love your pretty, little voice.” Eddie’s free hand dropped by your head, supporting his weight to hover over you, letting his unruly hair cascade a waterfall around you. “As a matter of fact, you should speak up. Tell me you wanna be a good girl for me.” So close, his cock was barely grazing the entrance of your cunt, all before tortuously leaving your warmth to dissipate that spark in your body. And up above, Eddie was enjoying the show of your contorting face of frustration. “C’mon, you can say it.”

“I wanna be your good girl, sir.” You pleaded, taking a grasp around his supporting wrist to help find your rhythm against his teasing dick. “I promise, I’m your good girl, just let me have it.”

“Yeah, you wanna be my good girl.” He mocked, aligning his slick head of precum and your arousal to your clenching hole that oozed more wetness. “Here’s the thing, you’re already mine, so who am I to deny you- mm, fuck!”

Falling chest to chest, your nails clawed up his back at the burning sensation of his girth breaching your seizing walls. Eddie’s forehead dropped to yours, as the mixture of both your hot breath confined what little space was left between your gaping lips. “Slow, slow!” You urged him, as his bangs crumpled against your head with a fervent nod to listen to your pleads. Every clasp of your cunt had him harshly breathing through his nose, fighting the onslaught of sensations that were subsequently bringing him closer to the edge far faster than anticipated. “Uh! Fuck, you’re so big!” Inch by inch, your body was giving way to the pleasure of his deliberate intrusion, welcoming him in with a warm hug from your cunt.

Nearly lacerated by his nails, Eddie hoped the balling of his fist would defuse the overwhelming feelings churning in his chest, but suddenly being submerged balls deep into your body had his mouth spewing with all he felt for you. “Fuck, you really don’t understand what you do to me.” He whined against your face. “First time I saw you, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t really get in situations like these often- hell, fucking ever, but you! I just had to do whatever I could to get you. Honestly, it kinda pissed me off.” Eddie breathlessly chuckled against your lips, driving his greedy hips to drag his cock along your walls. “Holy s-shit, fuck, how the hell was I letting some girl have this affect on me. But you’re not just some girl, Y/N. God, mm, you’re fucking everything.”

Leave it to Eddie Munson to confess his feelings from the tightness of your pussy.

“Eddie!” His cock found no trouble in abusing that spot within you that had your legs occupying his waist like a lifeline, toes curling from the rapture that trembled your legs. Your hands forced his head to your lips, swallowing each other's moans to consume the desperation of night. Where spit messily slicked your lips, a ring of cream surrounded Eddie’s cock that smear the wetness against your pussy.

“Fuck, just wanna do everything for you.” His lips dragged against yours, bodies bumping with every pound of skin slapping Eddie caused with his dick. “Got your holes all plugged up, nasty, little fucking thing.” Pursuing that desperate high, your pelvis began meeting his with an impassioned gyrate; the swollen head of his cock bruising your g-spot, all whilst the tickle of his pubes itched at your inflamed clit. “You wanna come, baby- fuck, I know you do!” His stomach clenched with every squelch your pussy created under the squeezing hold of his dick’s continuous reentry.

Licking and rubbing your cunt to a tender mess of cum and slick had your second orgasm of the night pummeling quickly under Eddie’s intrusive cock, and you were pleading to see white stars from the fucking of his body to yours. “Yes, please, please, sir! Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna- mm!”

Sweat coated your rubbing bodies together, where you nipples abraded against his to have you wailing with all sensations, yanking that orgasmic string within you. “Squeezing down on my fucking cock, yeah, baby, you can cum, but not until I say so.”

Eddie Munson was torturing himself when his body stilled inside you, but seeing your desperate face twist into a crying mess was far better than dumping inside you within the first five minutes. “No, no, sir, please!” Your hips attempted to fuck themselves deeper onto his cock, but Eddie’s harsh hand imprinted itself to the fat of your curves, holding your down from any endeavors to cumming.

“Hey, hey, listen, listen, sweetheart.” He took a hold of your jaw, forcing your eyes upon his. “Remember, you’re my good girl; gotta be good for me.” All along this is what Eddie wanted, turning your mind into deprived mush to cloud those overcrowding thoughts that hurt your little head. And he watched it transpire before him, seeing you desperately nod to his words, completely at his mercy with full trust to care for you. “I know I’m being mean, baby, but you gotta believe me when I say this will feel so good.” His puffing breath fanned your face. “I’m so proud of you, so proud of you getting all that shit off your chest, so proud of you letting me play with your holes, being this perfect, dirty girl for me. Now, I want you to come, okay, just gonna play with your pussy-”

“Ah, fuck!” Your body jolted under the tight, circling rubs of his rough fingers against your clit.

“Sh, sh, don’t want your folks disturbing us, baby.” His devilish sneer taunted your face. “Just tell me you wanna come, okay? Say it.”

Your lips incoherently spewed out. “Iwannacomesir-”

“Slower, pretty girl, slower.” Eddie demanded, with each pinch to your buzzing pearl fueling that plucking string of hot cum inside you to burst.

“I want to cum, sir.” Your trembling hands secured his hot cheeks to bring him forth, as your lips whispered against his with tiny kisses. “I… want to… cum, sir.”

Eddie smiled against your lips, before planting a fat sucker on them. “Good, now shut the fuck up, and you better listen to me.” With your heads bound closely, all of the world became lost in the homey environment within Eddie’s curtain of hair. Where his two-in-one shampoo clashed with your coconut hair mask, and the smell of sex fermented the humid air of hot breath, Eddie began hammering his cock into your sopping pussy, with spurts of wetness jumping to souse your connecting bodies. “You are so fucking gorgeous.” He huffed. “Anyone can see that plain as day- so fucking incredible. You deserve the fucking world, deserve to be taken care of, and I swear, baby, I swear on my life to be that man.” Eddie moaned into your ear, his wet lips exciting every nerve in your body with hot whispers, that had you mutilating his skin with streaks of unbearable red. “Just feel me playing with you, pleasing you, only you, pretty girl- f-fuck! Tell me I’m yours, fucking tell me.”

Your legs tightened around his backside, driving the heels of your feet to the tiny plush of his ass, forcing him deeper into your cunt. With your hands caressing the beauty of his face, you managed to find the strength to open your screwed shut eyes, and meet the round ones that were pouring desperation into yours. “You’re mine, Eddie.” Spoken so delicately from the hoarseness of your throat, whilst the filthiest actions were occurring to your body. “You’re all mine, Eddie. No one else. Just you.” Sealing it with a searing kiss that had him sobbing groans onto your tongue, in a heated mix with your whines.

“When I tell you, cum for me, okay, baby? Ten.” His heavy hand forced a grip to your leg, hiking them higher for an angle unbeknownst to you, leaving you to squeal into the crevice of his neck. “Nine… eight… seven, love how fucking greedy your body is, almost there, my pretty girl.” Eddie’s balls were seizing with twitches, as his engorged cock was building up a hot load that was on the precipice of flooding you. “ Six, look right at me, five… four, wanna see your pretty face when you finish.” Too much pressure was mounting on your cervix, as your body began losing itself to the thrills of an impending orgasm. “Three… two, tell me you wanna cum.”

“I wanna cum!”

“Louder!”

“I wanna cum on your cock!” Singing it to his ears with cries of harmony had his body cramping with pleasure.

“One, fucking do it, cum for me!” Your back arched with the snap of your orgasm, a scorching gush of creamy white invading his cock with unfathomable squeezes and squelches. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… f-fuckkkk!” A hose of his sizzling seed fucked itself into you with stuttering hips that had you wailing into his buff shoulder, nails bloodying his alabaster skin with reds of passion, as your bodies convulsed in the aftershocks of pure hedonism. “T-There you go, fucking ride it out, sweetheart, ride it out with me.” His muscles flexed under the intense explosion of his bust; beads of musky sweat falling down the length of his body to infuse the creamy cum that matted his pubic hair. “God, you’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful.”

“Auugh!” Your fogged mind whined in the lost stars of white that flashed your vision.

“It’s okay, my baby, just relax, you’re alright.” Eddie brought you back to reality, peppering kisses of adoration along your perspired skin, cementing every word he ever uttered to you in the heat of the moment. A brief cry of discomfort from his cock pulling out had him comforting your body with gentle caresses, all while witnessing the artistry that was a pearly concoction of both your hot cum painting the pink jewel of your butt plug with a filthy iridescent. “Fuck, you really are fucking mine, Y/N.”

Your soft voice ripped through the sounds of heavy breaths, as your body felt like waves of crashing water under his touch. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You weakly laughed. “Yeah, you can definitely be my boyfriend.” As if that was ever a question. Your gentle mewls echoed into his ears, as his thick fingers made the move to smoothly twist out your butt plug from your needy hole, that felt the need to keep its clamping clutch onto it. Eddie swore under his breath, falling in love with the winking gape of your asshole. While a clean-up was surely at hand, your beckoning voice had him dropping your toy to lay by your side. His lips found solace in the company of your own, as he brought your sticky being of sweat and cum close, snug under the protective arms of his body. “Yeah, I’m your boyfriend, and you’re my girlfriend.” Eddie Munson’s lips upturned to a damning smile that had you clinging to his closeness for the rest of the night.

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

858 notes · View notes

itsgodepi · 3 months ago

Text

If I lose my mind | Ch. 11

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

A gentle breeze greets you as you step onto the bar’s terrace, the heavy beat of the music fading into a muffled hum as the glass door swings shut behind you. Despite the warmth, the night air feels crisp and almost refreshing. The few scattered lounge areas are sparsely occupied, quiet conversations blend with the soothing ambiance, and you inhale deeply, feeling a wave of calm wash over you—a welcome contrast to the frenzy inside.

This is the first after-party you have attended since everything changed. You had not even known there was a party after the race until Charles’ playful complaints about your absence at his podium celebration clued you in. The thought of venturing out at night had seemed daunting then—after all, the paddock had become your safe haven, a place where the routine felt familiar. But missing Carlos’ party was simply out of the question, not if you wanted to avoid the relentless whining that would surely follow.

Your time in Monaco with Charles, and the nice lunch with Daniel, had shown you just how much of this world you had yet to explore. Especially now, when the doors to a lavish lifestyle which you had yet to grasp, had swung open for you. Despite not seeing a single euro from your ‘work’, being a famous Formula One driver sure had its perks. Tonight was a perfect example: here you were, in one of the most luxurious hotels you had ever encountered, clad in a stunning dress from your pre-arranged luggage, all without spending a cent.

The building, perched elegantly on the edge of a tranquil river, boasts an expansive terrace adorned with soft lights that gently yield to the brilliance of the starlit sky. A secluded club, nestled on the outskirts of the city, packed with a glittering array of celebrities —actors, singers, athletes, you name it— all immersed in an atmosphere of opulence that is both mesmerizing and intense.

You take a few steps forward, intending to lean against the railing to fully absorb the serene scenery—the subtle scent of the flowing water, the sense of liberation that the night seems to offer—, when a man seated in solitude catches your eye.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you approach him, the rhythmic clack of your heels on the terrace floor accompanying your steps. He is clad in a black sweater with a low neck, a big necklace hanging from his neck “What are you doing out here?” you ask, your voice light “Everyone’s inside.”

Lewis looks up, surprise flickering across his features. The terrace lights catch in his dark eyes, turning them into an intricate constellation. “Could ask you the same” he replies with a smirk, shifting to the side of the black sofa to make space for you. “I thought you were having fun dancing around with the girls”.

“Yeah, Alex and George’s girlfriend are nice, but everything is just...” you sink into the cushions, letting out an exasperated sigh as you lean your elbow on the armrest, fidgeting with the straps of your shoes. You take this brief moment to compose yourself, offering a distraction from the truth that feels too overwhelming to voice.

The strangeness of the night, the unfamiliar country, and the sea of faces —some known, many not— have left you feeling adrift. The idea of being surrounded by so many people, who were supposedly mere byproducts of your imagination, was utterly disorienting. How could something so elaborate and vivid possibly be a mere fantasy? It all felt so...

You shake your head, chiding yourself. You shouldn’t have gone out tonight —those drinks did not help either.

With a deep breath, you decide to push those thoughts aside and opt for a lighter excuse “If they play Animals one more time, I’m jumping off the balcony, I swear”

A soft chuckle escapes the Mercedes driver. “You better stay out here then” He takes a sip of his drink, crossing his legs and shifting his gaze from his glass to the breathtaking scenery, “I thought you liked electronic music”

“Yeah, I do, but—wait, how do you know that?” you notice halfway into your explanation, frowning at him. It is not like you had much time to play music since you were thrusted into this situation, so where did that come from?

Lewis shrugs, his eyes crinkling with a grin he barely manages to conceal, a trace of pride in his expression as though he is pleased to have surprised you.

“Well, yes, I do like it” you give in, tilting your head. Despite the theories crowding your mind, you prefer not to think about that. Just for today. “I guess I’ve just gotten used to Spanish nightclubs. There’s a lot less jumping, that’s for sure”

Although you were having a hard time back in Spain, you had made a couple friends during your external internship that liked to party until the early hours of the day. They showed you around the city, took you to some of the most beautiful places you had ever seen and were there when you were not in the mood for any of that.

It was nice, being with them, your small home away from home. You missed them, dearly.

“Oh, right. You were in Mallorca with Carlos, weren’t you?” he realizes, a teasing note in his voice that you choose to overlook.

“You know too much,” you reply with a playful smile, raising a pointing finger at him. Even if that is not the real reason, you prefer not to get into specifics. Not tonight “Yeah, Charles and I went to visit him for a couple days. It was nice, did they tell you about it?”

Lewis shakes his head, adjusting himself more comfortably on the sofa, draping his arm over the backrest. “That bit I picked up from the articles.”

Those photos had spread across the internet like wildfire. Both Ferrari and Haas’ media team blowing up your phones as soon as you put a foot back into the port.

Of course. You'd almost managed to forget about the media frenzy the impromptu holiday had caused.

You barely recall how the idea for a trip came up on the flight to Monaco —something about the scorching temperatures in Monaco prompting Carlos to check the weather in Mallorca, and you mentioning you’d never been there. That was all the spanish needed to organize a full weekend getaway to the island for the three of you, all under the guise of inaugurating his new boat.

You haven't yet worked up the courage to read those articles . Seeing the coverage about your on-track activities is one thing, clad in a costume and playing the part, but having your entire itinerary laid out online feels like an entirely different level of exposure.

It feels like another sign that this universe is a mere construct of your imagination, there is no way they could find you on a boat in the middle of the sea. Everything feels so artificial —or, perhaps, unnervingly real.

For a moment, you consider how ready you are to confront the topic that’s been swirling in your mind all day. Gathering your resolve, you ask tentatively, “Did you see the articles about us?”

A quick search of your names brings up a flood of results: articles and social media posts either critiquing your supposed ambition to climb the fame ladder or fawning about how great you look together. Hundreds of photos and videos have emerged, supposedly capturing moments where you are seen looking ‘longingly’ at each other during interviews or gravitating towards one another during pre-race activities. You won't lie, you enjoy those last ones way too much.

A brief silence falls over the scene. You lift your gaze to meet his, as if expecting something —an answer, reassurance, you’re not quite sure.

“I did” Lewis confirms with a nod, his voice nearly lost to the breeze.

You drop your gaze, your fingers absently tracing the seam of your dress as a pout forms on your lips. “You know, the others were teasing me about it.”

“Were they?” his voice carries a hint of mock surprise, as if he anticipated this would come up “Who? Leclerc?”

“No, it was Lando. And well, Daniel and Carlos too” you clarify, recalling how they were basically fuelling each other, although the mention of the Monegasque has your alarms blaring “Wait, why Charles?”

"Oh, Daniel too?” Lewis highlights the McLaren’s driver name with a chuckle, completely ignoring your question “And Carlos... well, I’m not surprised about that one, after that... effusive celebration”

You give his leg a playful slap, pretending to be exasperated by the teasing. You know the journalists are going to have a field day with your hug in front of the podium. You’ve already seen a few of those photos making the rounds on social media. But it really doesn’t matter. The press can speculate about a relationship between you and Carlos, or any little interaction between you and the rest of the drivers, the truth is far less dramatic.

Following in on his joke you mention the only driver who has been left out, “Not Lando?”

“Maybe, who knows?” he throws the question out into the universe, his eyes steady on yours.

Neither the universe nor you offer him an answer, only crossing your arms and letting out an exaggerated sign. Honestly, it is more of an excuse to scan the balcony’s guests, taking in their scattered forms and quiet conversations.

Sensing the lull in the conversation, Lewis offers you a sip from his drink. You eye the glass, considering whether to indulge in another round. The couple drinks you already had still swirling around in your head, a lingering attempt to calm your social anxiety. With a slight nod, you accept the glass and take a tentative sip. The cold liquid burns its way down your throat, a sensation that makes you scrunch your nose in distaste. You promptly hand the glass back to Lewis, casting him a puzzled glance.

What’s in there? It’s the embodiment of a poisoned peace offering. The taste lingers unpleasantly, settling heavily in your stomach.

The British man watches with an amused smirk, barely concealing it as finish what’s left of the drink himself, finally setting the empty glass on the coffee table with a soft clink. He turns back to you, his expression now more composed, and says softly, “If you’re worried about the press, we can always give it a rest for a while. It’s fine by me”

Although you try to conceal your reaction to the proposed solution, even Lewis is surprised at the way your eyes shot up to his. The idea of purposely avoiding each other during race events seemingly a tough compromise in that moment. Despite your growing familiarity with the chaotic world of Formula 1—two months of navigating this madness have certainly made an impact—Lewis has been a constant source of comfort amid the frenzy, a steady anchor for your sanity.

“I mean...” you clasp your hands over your lap, nodding along to the plan, although a bit disoriented “Yeah, sure, whatever you think is best”

Lewis catches your hesitation, reading the unease on your face. His expression softens as he opens his mouth to speak, a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air. But before he can say anything, his attention shifts to something behind you.

“What are you doing out here?” the familiar question comes before strong arms wrapping around you in a warm hug from behind the sofa. The voice, laced with genuine happiness, whispers into your ear “I’m so happy you’ve come,” making a pleasant shiver run down your spine.

You lean against Carlos’s shoulder, melting into his embrace as best you can with your arms pinned beneath his. The sweet scent of his cologne and the faint hint of alcohol mix in the chilly air, intensifying the comforting warmth.

“I was chilling for a bit” you reply as he pulls away. You offer Lando a wave when he appears behind Carlos’ figure. They both sit at the sofa by your right, the older one placing his drink on the glass table, and you let out a tired sigh “I don’t know how you guys do this. I’m exhausted.”

It is a miracle that you are still awake and attentive at this hour, let alone engaged in conversation. Normally, you’d be out like a light by now. The physical and mental demands of a Grand Prix weekend usually leave you running on fumes, barely making it through airport security as Nick guides you to the next spot on the calendar. And yet, these men —who have actually spent almost two hours driving at breakneck speeds in a state of extreme focus— can seamlessly transition to partying all night, just hours after the race.

“I’m fine actually” Lewis instantly assures, with a shrug, leaning back into the sofa. His playful tone not fully registering until you hear Lando’s laugh.

It has not been the best of days for the British driver. Afterall, the nasty collision that sent his car flying at the first corner, forcing him to retire after just two laps. The incident plays on a loop in your mind, the memory of his car flying across the air still vivid. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “That was scary,” you admit, the concern in your voice unmistakable.

Lewis grimaces, an exasperated sigh rolling out of him.

“Careful what you say, Lewis,” Lando snickers, glancing between you and Carlos with a mischievous grin. “We’re in an Alonso slander-free zone here.”

Carlos shoves Lando playfully to the side, and you are quick to interject, your voice a touch louder than needed. “Yes, we sure are!” you assert, refusing to let anyone criticize the Spaniard. Especially when you, with your limited but growing F1 knowledge, are certain the collision wasn’t at all his fault. “And you are one to talk anyway, we’re not in a Lando slum-, what was it? well, whatever-you-said free zone...”

Alright, your English is beginning to falter. Not a good sign.

The implications of your jab seem to strike a chord in the younger man, who abruptly incorporates himself in the sofa, curls bouncing over his head with the motion. He clasps his hands together and leans over his knees, ready to argue his case “Oh, really? Let’s talk about it, then”

You’re equally eager to dive into the debate, fuelled by a mix of liquid courage and post-race indignation, he almost smashed his car into yours mid-race. You have not suffered through a two-hour post-race debrief for nothing “Well, first of-”

Eyes wide, hands frozen in the air, you hear it—a familiar beat filtering through the club’s glass door. “Oh!” The word slips out as a huge grin spreads across your face. You recognize the opening notes immediately, and your gaze darts to Carlos. “Gasolina, ¡Carlos! ¡Gasolina! ¡No me lo creo!”

You leap off the sofa, excitement bubbling over as the music pulses from inside the club —though you feel a tad bit lightheaded. Your sudden movement draws the attention of nearly everyone on the balcony. Realizing this, you offer a sheepish smile and a quick wave in apology before lowering your voice. “C’mon, let’s go inside,” you urge Carlos, practically bouncing on your heels. The thought of dancing to the iconic song fills you with a giddy anticipation.

But the man doesn’t move. Instead, he stares at you with a bemused expression and groans, “I just came out here!”

Your enthusiasm wavers as you glance between him and the door, a pout forming on your lips. You really want to head inside, to lose yourself in the music for a while, but the idea of going alone feels daunting. You have had enough encounters with strangers claiming to know you for tonight. Maybe Carlos’ presence would act as a deterrence, or at least steal all the attention. Plus, you simply want to enjoy the song in the Ferrari driver’s company.

The excitement slowly dies when you watch him pull a tired grimace, the strain from the day probably catching up to him once the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

With a tilt of your head, you ask one final time, “No?” Your voice is softer now, tinged with a hint of defeat as you begin to turn back towards your seat.

Just before you can sit back down, Carlos reaches out and grabs your hand, prompting you to help him get up from the sofa. He rises with a slow stretch, shaking his head with a resigned chuckle. “I don’t even like dancing” he complains, though his grip is firm and reassuring as he stands beside you.

You beam up at him, grateful for his company. You gesture to Lando and Lewis, inviting them to join, the mix of alcohol and excitement making your nerves tingle. Yet, although they both seem entertained by your enthusiasm, they decline your offer as quick as you extend it.

With a shrug, you turn back to the club entrance, Carlos following reluctantly. His light-hearted complaints become background noise as you bob your head to the rhythm of the song. “Por fin ponen una buena y tú... (They finally play a good one and you...)” you tease him, but suddenly feel a tug on your hand.

You look back at the driver, confused by what made him come to such a sudden halt, and find him greeting someone. Well, not just someone.

“Charles!” you exclaim, quickly leaning in to hug him, your hand still linked with Carlos’s.

The man’s face brightens with a warm smile. “How are you? Haven’t seen you all night.” His light eyes sparkle as they meet yours, but there’s a flicker of curiosity as they glance at the linked hands between you and Carlos.

“I’m fine! We’re going in ‘cause I love the song, want to come with?” you hastily explain, the rhythm of the song already arriving to the chorus fuelling your eagerness and not mixing well with your foggy brain.

His smile wavers slightly, gaze bounces between you and Carlos as he finally decides that “No, it’s alright. I’m going to cool off for a bit. You guys have fun.”.

Charles watches you disappear into the flashing lights and thumping music, turning back toward the dimly lit terrace. The night now feeling just a touch colder.

Author's note: I was missing writing so much, hope you liked it. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

#lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fic #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you

100 notes · View notes

quojae · 12 days ago

Text

-where taking photos of idols turns into more that you ever would have guessed-

f!reader, sunoo x reader, fan x idol, fluff, meet cute, kissing

a/n: hello loves 𖹭 i hope you enjoy this fic i tried my best to make it cute and fluffy but it definitely gets raw and intimate towards the end, happy reading o(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)o

wc: 11.3k

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

you went to school for photography, photography had always been one of the loves of your life, you would see a scene and just have the urge to take a photo. although looking back, you almost regret getting your degree in it, people always say not to mix your passion and your work. you should have listened, photography is one of those professions where finding stable work feels like trying to catch lightning in a bottle. the industry is oversaturated, and the competition is fierce. jobs hard to score, and the pay is often inconsistent, making it hard to rely on it as a full-time career.

at the time, you were stuck working part-time at a mcdonald's in a rundown part of town. the job paid just enough to cover rent and bills, but the hours were long, the work was grueling, and the atmosphere was depressing. you had a camera, of course, but it felt more like a distant dream you once held as a naive college student than something real. that is, until one evening, when one of your coworkers - someone you didn’t really know that well - approached you with an unexpected proposition.

they had an idea - a suggestion so simple yet so completely outside the box that, at first, it felt almost too good to be true. you’d never considered anything like it before, it wasn’t a big corporate gig, or some trendy magazine cover shoot, or even a commissioned project for a local business. it wasn’t even a photoshoot in the typical sense, but that was exactly the point. it was something raw, something spontaneous, and - most importantly - a reason to use your camera again, reignite your childhood passion.

your coworker, the one you barely knew and could hardly remember the name of, was a fan of a particular idol. the idol wasn’t incredibly popular, they rarely made headlines but was a recognizable, familiar face, you had been interested in idol’s at one point but eventually had to abandon the hobby in favor of paying your bills. this idol was attending a private, high-profile event - an exclusive gathering with limited access - where fans rarely got the chance to meet them in person, let alone snap a photo.

somehow, your coworker had managed to get tickets to this event, which in itself was a pretty rare feat, they had an idea: "why don’t you come with me as my plus one?" they asked casually, almost as if they were offering you a ticket to a normal night out. but then came the twist. "i’ll pay you for the photos you take while we’re there. you know, of the idol. if you’re up for it."

the offer caught you off guard. at first, you weren’t sure if you heard them correctly, pay you? to take photos? of an idol? you had spent years hustling to scrape by, working part-time jobs just to keep the lights on. you’d never even thought about something like this - photographing an idol for money on the spot. there was always official photos, and some fans took photos from their phones, but going into these events with a nice, high end camera taking candid photos of idols, the idea wasn't necessarily ground breaking, people have done it before, but it made your heart beat a bit faster.

the more you thought about it, though, the more it seemed to make sense. here was a chance to finally break out of the routine you’d been stuck in. you could do something different, something that didn’t involve working under fluorescent lights flipping burgers at mcdonald's. it wasn’t a perfect opportunity, but it was an opportunity. something real, something that could get you one step closer to doing what you loved for a living.

sure, there was a risk. not getting good shots or you freezing up under the pressure. you weren’t sure, but then again, there wasn't anything to lose. it was a chance to take your photography out of the mundane and into the world of exclusive events, star power, and actual exposure - something you’d always dreamed about but never quite reached.

you agreed, of course. you had to. the idea, while risky and untraditional, was too intriguing to pass up. it wasn’t the glamorous photoshoot you’d always imagined, but maybe this could be your shot. so, you packed your camera and tagged along, unsure of what to expect but knowing that this could be the break you needed.

when you arrived at the event, the energy was electric—idols sitting at their tables ready to sign posters and chat with fans, photographers buzzing around, and security everywhere. you were just another face in the crowd, but with your camera in hand, you felt a strange sense of possibility. the idol you were there to photograph was charismatic, surrounded by an entourage, but the moment you snapped the first shot, it felt like the world had opened up in a way you hadn’t expected.

sure enough, the photos you took that night were more than just decent, they were actually pretty great. the light was perfect, the atmosphere electric, and the idol looked natural in front of the camera, by the time the night ended, you had a batch of photos that would go on to be worth more than you had imagined. it was in that moment that you realized how little you had known about the potential of your work. you had been so focused on following the traditional paths, waiting for commissions, applying for jobs that never seemed to come through, that you’d never considered going outside the box.

your coworker was absolutely thrilled with the photos you took. they couldn’t believe how good they turned out, and the way the idol had looked so natural and approachable in each shot. the pictures weren’t just great, they were special. your coworker practically couldn’t stop talking about them. the excitement in their voice was contagious, and you could tell they were more than just happy with what you'd done; they were impressed. they handed over the agreed payment, which was far more than you expected for something that felt like a spur-of-the-moment gig. you’d never made that much from photography in one night, it felt like you were finally reaching your dreams, it felt like you were finally being acknowledged for your passion.

the real surprise came a few hours later, when your coworker posted the photos on their social media account. They tagged the idol, shared a few behind-the-scenes captions, and - just like that - the photos took off. almost immediately, the reactions started pouring in. fans of the idol who had been eagerly following the event began commenting on the post, captivated by the authenticity and energy you had managed to capture. the photos weren’t just snapshots - they were a window into a moment, and it felt like people were getting a glimpse behind the idols polished public persona.

at first, the comments were more along the lines of casual appreciation like, ‘my bby looks so cutee’ or ‘the lighting on these OMG.’ But as the hours went by, something bigger started to happen. fans were flooding the post, asking for more. a few commented on how they’d never seen the idol look so relaxed or how these photos felt so much more real than the usual, heavily edited promotional shots they were used to seeing. then came the requests: ‘i LiTERALLY NEED MORE RN’ or ‘can you post more pics like these… i love the style of these pics’ others tagged their friends, begging them to look how great their bias looks. then, more offers to purchase came through.

One day at work, you coworker was talking to themself “i mean, these are really good,” they said, scrolling through the growing number of comments. “i bet people would pay for these. like, seriously.”

they were right. what had started as a casual favor to a coworker had quickly turned into something much bigger. the more your coworker engaged with the comments and shared the photos, the more requests started to come in - both from fans and even other photographers who wanted to know how you’d managed to capture such a raw, intimate vibe with the idol.

your coworker, now buzzing with new ideas, suggested something that would change the way you thought about your photography moving forward: “what if you could do this more often? go to events, take these candid shots, and sell them to fans? it’s like, exclusive content. i know so many people who would eat it up.” it was a wild idea, but as they continued to scroll through the endless stream of enthusiastic comments, you couldn’t deny it - there was something there. something more than just a one-time gig, and secretly you looked forward to going to another event to take photos. seeing the idols was breathtaking. at the time you had been so caught up in your camera you forgot where you were, who you were actually seeing. you could feel the happiness growing in your chest as you thought about that day.

that moment, when your photos started to go viral, you realized just how much potential there was in capturing these raw, behind-the-scenes glimpses of idol life, it wasnt that you wanted to stalk them home or anything, but being able to capture their raw emotions at events, the real them, excited you beyond belief. it wasn’t about posing for the camera, it wasn’t about perfection - it was about getting a fleeting, authentic moment and making it available to the people who longed for it. you had even longed for it yourself, and sharing it with others was such a great feeling.

the more you thought about it, the clearer it became, why not take this momentum and build something on your own? you didn’t need a fancy studio or a corporate client to make a living as a photographer. the fans had spoken loud and clear; they wanted real, behind-the-scenes moments, glimpses of their favorite idols captured in an authentic way. So, you decided to seize that demand, and to evolve your approach.

the first step was creating an online platform - a website, a social media page where you could post and sell your photos directly. it was a relatively simple concept, but it gave you control over your work. no middlemen, no agencies, no waiting around for a call back. just you, your camera, and the people who appreciated what you were capturing. the platform would allow fans to request specific photos they wanted, and you could price them fairly based on the level of access and the quality of the shot.

you didn’t have to reinvent the wheel, there were plenty of online photography stores, but what made yours different was the personal, exclusive nature of the photos. the idea was to capture the moments that no one else was - candid shots, spontaneous interactions, and moments that felt intimate or unguarded. tt wasn’t about just selling any photo; it was about selling the photo, the one that told a story or showed a side of the idols their fans had never seen before.

the next step was gaining access to more events. you’d have to be creative, find ways into concerts, premieres, fan meet, maybe even award shows, or private parties where idols were likely to show up. this meant networking, finding connections, and sometimes even pulling a few favors, but you learned quickly that where there’s a will, there’s a way. whether it was through your coworkers, friends of friends, or even just by paying attention to social media and learning about events before they happened, you became skilled at getting your foot in the door.

once you were in, it was all about capturing those moments. you’d snap a few candid shots, focusing on moments where the idol was relaxed, in a natural environment. you’d also make sure to get a couple of highly polished, high-quality images to use as teasers. it was all about creating anticipation. you’d post a few shots on social media, teasing the full set of photos, and maybe even share a quick, behind-the-scenes video or an outtake to drum up interest. the goal was to make the fans feel like they were getting an inside look into the world of their favorite idol, something they couldn’t get anywhere else.

the best part? the fans responded just as they had before, eager, excited, and hungry for more. the teaser posts on social media would ignite the excitement, with fans commenting, sharing, and tagging others. requests would pour in, ‘he looks so hot here, i want moree’ or ‘i need the entire set or i might just break down’ the beauty of this model was that it wasn’t about a few one-off sales—it was about building a relationship with a community. as you gained more followers and more fans, it became a cycle. you would post teasers, people would request more, and you could offer them full, high-quality images for a fair price.

as time passed, your online platform began to grow. word of mouth spread, and more fans began reaching out. you found yourself getting access to bigger events, seeing familiar names pop up in your inbox, and even having idols or their teams inquire about using some of your shots for their own promotional purposes. each new photo was a stepping stone, each set you posted was not just a transaction, but an opportunity to connect with your audience and further build your brand.

being an idol fan yourself, this entire experience felt like a dream come true. you had spent so many years admiring these idols from afar, watching them shine in the spotlight, and now you were not only in the same rooms as them but capturing intimate moments of their lives through your lens. after being broke and not having any time to keep up with them, to being so close to them and actively in their world was incredible. the fact that you were interacting with the people you once looked up to - and even more incredibly, that they were appreciating your work - was surreal. it wasn’t just about taking photos anymore; it was about sharing the same energy, the same excitement, and being able to offer something special to other fans who shared that same passion. you were no longer just a passive admirer, you were now creating something that allowed others to connect with the idols you loved so much.

as your platform grew in visibility, so did your reputation. word spread quickly, and what started as a small side hustle became something much bigger. you became a recognized name in the idol photography world, known for your unique, authentic approach to capturing moments that no one else was able to.

one of the benefits of your approach to this whole new life was the anonymity it afforded you. no one knew your face, and that made all the difference. you could attend high-profile events, interact with the idols, and enjoy the atmosphere without the pressure of being recognized or approached. you were able to experience these moments as both a fan and a professional, without the hassle of the typical fan interaction. there was no need for the autograph hunts or trying to get the perfect selfie; instead, you had the freedom to enjoy the event, capture meaningful moments, and leave without the distraction of unwanted attention. it was the ideal solution - living the dream of being close to the stars, but still having the privacy and space to appreciate it on your own terms. it felt like the perfect balance between work and passion, what you had always dreamed of.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

it was supposed to be a normal event, just a fan meet, nothing too fancy, nothing too extravagant. you’d been to these kinds of things before, but this time you had put a little more effort into your outfit. you reached into the back of your closet and pulled out a blouse that felt just right, simple but elegant. you paired it with a cute black pleated mini skirt that gave off just the right vibe, mature, yet playful and cool. you accessorized it with a delicate necklace and some minimalistic earrings, thinking you looked polished without being overdone. you felt good about it, maybe even a little proud. this was your chance to blend in with the crowd but still stand out, to look like you knew what you were doing, like you belonged here.

but, of course, it was just your luck that, within the first five minutes of arriving, disaster struck. you hadn’t even made it past the entrance when you bumped into someone - just a girl in a hurry, not really paying attention. in the blink of an eye, her coffee went flying, splashing all over your pristine white blouse. your stomach dropped. of course, the one thing you had worked so hard to get right - your outfit - was ruined. the girl immediately started apologizing, her face flushed with embarrassment, but you waved it off, trying to brush it off as no big deal. "it’s fine, really," you assured her, even though your mind was racing. you just needed to get to a bathroom, quickly, before the stain set in and ruined your entire day.

you made your way toward the restrooms, hoping to fix things up. but, as luck would have it, the first two bathrooms you found were packed with girls, all standing in front of the mirrors, touching up their makeup, chatting, or taking selfies. there was no space for you to even get close to a sink, let alone grab some paper towels and start trying to clean up the mess. the minutes ticked by, frustration mounting as you realized that every second you spent standing around, the stain was likely becoming more permanent. finally, when you thought things couldn’t get worse, you spotted an empty bathroom at the end of the hallway - an oasis in your streak of bad luck. no one was around, the door was open, and you rushed toward it with relief, thinking you might still salvage your blouse.

in your rush to get inside and fix things, you completely missed the sign posted outside the door. a simple, overlooked word, mens. you didn’t even register it before you burst into the bathroom. you grabbed a handful of paper towels, dampened them with water, and began dabbing at the stain with the urgency of someone trying to undo a mistake. it was already too late - the coffee had soaked in, and now you could only hope to minimize the damage. You could feel your heart pounding, trying to keep calm as you worked, praying that no one would walk in and catch you in the middle of your panic.

a toilet flushed behind you, its sound startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet bathroom. you were so absorbed in your task, desperately rubbing at the coffee stain with a damp paper towel, that you didn’t even register the sound at first. your focus was on nothing but trying to salvage your blouse, one dab at a time. the stain seemed to mock your efforts, refusing to lift. you were lost in the rhythm of it - dabbing, dabbing, dabbing - when suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke your concentration. a man’s shoes tapped lightly against the tile floor, and before you could react, he was standing next to you, casually washing his hands at the sink.

it wasn’t until he looked up at the mirror that you noticed him. his eyes locked onto your reflection, and a squeak - more of a startled gasp - escaped his mouth. the noise was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and without thinking, you whipped your head around to see what had caused the reaction. the instant you turned, your eyes locked with his, and your stomach dropped, and you realized, you’re in the wrong bathroom. your pulse spiked as your mind raced, the embarrassing realization dawning on you at the worst possible moment.

for a brief, breathless second, there was complete silence between the two of you. your eyes widened, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a shriek of your own - a high-pitched gasp of shock and embarrassment that echoed off the walls. the man froze, hands still hovering over the sink, clearly just as surprised as you were. the realization that you had just walked into a men’s bathroom, had been standing right next to him, not even noticing until now, it hit you all at once. your face drained of color, and a flush of mortification spread across your skin, from your neck to the tips of your ears. you wanted to sink through the floor, to disappear entirely, but all you could do was stand there, paralyzed in the awkwardness of the moment.

the man, equally stunned, stared at you for a long, excruciating beat, before his face turned a shade of red that could rival yours. every fiber of your being screamed to just run out of the bathroom, but you were frozen in place, desperately trying to act like you weren’t a complete disaster. you slowly took a step back, hoping to salvage what was left of your dignity - and maybe just run away before you could cause any more damage.

"i-i’m sorry," you stammer out, your voice faltering as your face burns with embarrassment. "i was in such a hurry i didn’t realize..."

"it’s okay," he replies, still blushing as he glances down at your blouse, his eyes briefly lingering on the stain. "you, uh... look like you’re dealing with quite the mess there."

"yeah... today is just a disaster," you admit with a sigh, your frustration evident in your tone.

he gives you a sympathetic look, then hesitates for a second, as though considering the best way to help. "it probably won’t come out with just water at this point," he observes, his voice trailing off as if he’s thinking through the best solution. without warning, he unzips his hoodie and pulls it off, handing it to you with a slight, sheepish smile. "here, use this. it should cover up the stain," he says, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents as he smiles at you.

you blink in surprise for a moment, caught off guard by his kindness. "thanks," you reply, your voice soft, and you quickly slip the hoodie on, zipping it up. it’s a little big on you, but it feels warm and comforting, and you can’t help but return his smile, feeling a small spark of connection in the midst of your awkward situation.

"hey," he says, his voice hesitating for a moment, like he’s unsure of how to proceed. "i know this is kind of random, but… could i get your number? or, like, your instagram or something?" he looks sheepish, clearly embarrassed about asking, and you can’t help but find his shyness endearing.

you smile, feeling the awkwardness melt a little. "sure," you say, your heart beating just a little faster. he passes you his phone, opening a new contact, and you quickly type in your name and number. your fingers move quickly, but it feels like time slows down as you finish and hand the phone back to him.

"so, your name’s y/n?" he says, his eyes bright as he glances at the screen. "it’s pretty." he smiles again, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

"thanks," you reply, feeling a little giddy despite yourself. "well, anyway, it was fun meeting you." you let out a small laugh, trying to diffuse some of the lingering awkwardness between you two. "i’d better get going so i don’t miss the start," you add, raising your camera to gesture to the event outside. "i’ve got photos i need to take, and fans i have to feed."

he chuckles, nodding in agreement. "yeah, fans have been pretty starving for photos lately."

you hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to leave or say something else. you stand there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, but decide to settle on something that feels right in the moment. slowly, you back toward the door, giving him an awkward wave and a smile. "text me," you say, the words leaving your mouth before you can overthink it.

he grins, his eyes still crinkling with amusement as you turn to leave. "i will."

as soon as the door closes behind you, you collapse against the nearest wall, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest. the rush of adrenaline, combined with the sheer mortification of walking into the wrong bathroom, has your pulse racing, but now there's something else, too. the encounter - the way he smiled at you, how effortlessly kind he was, the way your conversation flowed once the awkwardness wore off—it’s all a whirlwind in your mind. and then, there’s the fact that you’d just met the cutest guy you’ve seen in forever, and he’d asked for your number. your face feels like it's on fire, but there’s a grin spreading across your face anyway.

you squint up at the ceiling and slowly squat down into a little ball, clutching the wall for support as your heart continues to beat like a drum. the hoodie he’d given you smells faintly like him - fresh, with a hint of something sweet and comforting - and you close your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to savor the feeling. the moment feels so surreal, so unreal, but you can’t help but feel like it’s the start of something unexpected.

for a moment, you allow yourself to daydream, imagining the possibilities. your heart is still racing, and it feels like it might actually burst from the excitement. you can hardly believe it - what are the odds? a mistake, a coffee stain, and suddenly you're having this perfect, bizarre, heart-thumping interaction with someone who, in any other situation, you might have never crossed paths with. if this keeps up, you might literally die from a heart attack - your heart can’t seem to slow down, and you can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

sunoo collapses against the sink, heart pounding in his chest, face flushed from the unexpected encounter. at first, when he saw her - y/n - he had just assumed she was some overzealous fan trying to snap pictures of him in the bathroom, which, crazy as it sounded, had happened before. it was a wild situation to even think about, but it wasn’t totally unheard of. the thought that she might be after some candid shot of him in a vulnerable moment made his skin crawl. but then he had noticed something that completely threw him off: she wasn’t even looking at him. instead, she was fixated on something else—the stain on her shirt. there was no glimmer of recognition in her eyes, no sign that she had any clue who he was. the realization hit him in an instant—she wasn’t here for him at all.

the more he watched her, the more he saw her quietly trying to clean up the mess, the more he found himself charmed by her. when she realized she’d walked into the wrong bathroom, it was so obvious how mortified she was. her face turned the brightest shade of red, and she stammered out an apology, looking like she might just melt into the floor. it was almost adorable. instead of being embarrassed for himself, he couldn’t help but find her genuine discomfort endearing. and on top of that, the way she casually interacted with him - it was like she had no idea who he was. no fandom craziness, no over-the-top fan-girling. just... a normal conversation between two strangers. it was refreshing in a way he hadn’t expected.

on a sudden impulse, he’d asked for her number. it felt like the most natural thing in the world. how could he not? a stunning, confident girl who was totally his type had just wandered into his life by accident. dating someone while being an idol was looked down upon, but as long as he hid it well it would be fine, it wasn’t even like he was the first in the group to get a girlfriend. heeseung had had a girlfriend before, and the members had all been through their fair share of relationships. still, the thought of a girl not knowing who he was felt almost unreal. he hoped she wouldn’t find out and suddenly treat him like a celebrity, though. it would definitely complicate things.he hoped when she learned that he was part of enhypen, the group she was supposed to be taking photos for, things wouldn't get weird. he hoped she wouldn’t suddenly act awkward or distant. he just wanted to be seen as... well, just him, the real sunoo, and despite his usual confidence about his appearance, he found himself hoping she would find him attractive, something he had never worried about before.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. things had been going so well, but now the uncertainty was creeping in. would she text him back? would she even remember him the way he remembered her? maybe he was overthinking it. he was always so fixated on how he looked, how others saw him. but with her, it felt different. like it wasn't just about appearance, but about a genuine connection. the last thing he wanted was for that to get ruined by the whole idol thing. the thought of her walking away, thinking he was just another fan-chasing idol, made his stomach churn. but all he could do now was wait and hope.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

on your way to the main event, you spot a merch table tucked off to the side. surprisingly, the line is practically nonexistent—something that’s unheard of at events like this. on impulse, you decide to hop in the short line, intrigued by the merchandise on display. as you glance over the items, your eyes land on a pretty album titled simply ‘romance untold’. it looks cute, with soft, pastel-colored artwork and a sweet, romantic vibe. even though you have no idea what the idols look like yet, you feel a tug of curiosity. there’s something about the way the album is presented that draws you in. you’re sure you’ll fall in love with the group once you see them today, and it’ll be the perfect thing to flip through when you get home, a little memento of the day.

after making the quick purchase, you make your way into the main event space. you find a spot near the edge of the room, a nice angle where you can get some great shots of the idols. the excitement in the air is palpable, and the sea of eager fans around you buzzes with anticipation. you try to ignore the faint sense of discomfort as the crowd surges forward, pushing their way closer to the front. it’s always like this at big events - everyone wanting to be as close as possible, desperate for that connection with the stars they adore. you can’t help but feel a little bad for the boys, though. constantly surrounded by this intensity, always being viewed as more of a commodity than as people. of course, you know there are fans who genuinely care about their personalities, who want to see the candid moments behind the performance. but it’s hard to ignore the way others only see them for their fame. it must be exhausting, being unable to have a real, personal connection when you’re constantly on display.

the event officially kicks off when the boys walk on stage, and the crowd erupts in deafening screams, fans shrieking in excitement. you raise your camera instinctively, ready to catch the perfect shot. but as the boys make their way across the stage, your eyes widen in disbelief. standing right there, just a few feet in front of you, is the cute boy you met in the bathroom earlier. it’s him. the same boy, the one who had helped you with your coffee stain and awkwardly asked for your number. he’s up on stage now, dressed in a sleek stage outfit, his smile shining as the crowd goes wild for him. you freeze, your heart thumping as you realize the person you’d spoken to in such an unexpected, ordinary setting was a part of this incredibly popular group, standing in front of thousands of adoring fans.

your fingers hover over the camera, caught between snapping a picture of him on stage and trying to process the surreal realization. he's an idol. you can't help but feel a mix of emotions, shock, excitement, and maybe even a little disbelief. everything from the moment you met him in the bathroom suddenly feels like it was all leading to this. and now, as you watch him interact with the crowd, you can’t help but wonder if he remembers you - or if your interaction was just one fleeting moment, lost in the sea of faces he meets every day. either way, you can't deny it - seeing him up there, doing what he loves, surrounded by the energy of his fans, makes him all the more captivating.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You get home to your small studio apartment that night with a jumble of feelings in your stomach, you really aren't sure how to feel about this whole situation. you can’t help but smile, remembering how he’d been so cute, but also completely sweet, offering you his hoodie as you stammered through an apology. for those few minutes, he was just a friendly, kind stranger who made you feel like a bit of a mess.

seeing him later on stage was like looking at an entirely different person. the easygoing, endearing guy you’d met in the bathroom had somehow transformed into a star everyone had come to see. the cheers, the eyes on him… it was like watching two different versions of the same person, both mesmerizing but worlds apart.

you wander to the tiny kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water, glancing at your camera where all those shots are stored - photos of the day, of him, some of his group mates too, but while at the event your camera couldn't help drifting to take more shots of him. you’ve always had an eye for capturing people in the in-between, those glimpses when they forget about the camera and just are, having those photos of him felt intimate and you almost didn't want to share them.

you settle into an armchair by the window, watching the glow of the city outside. tomorrow, the photos will be waiting, and maybe when you look, you’ll find the boy from the bathroom shining through the idol on stage. for now, you close your eyes, feeling his kindness settle like a secret between you both.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

a notification on your phone startles you awake, and you realize you’d fallen asleep in your armchair while trying to detangle the events of the day. the screen casts a faint glow in the dim room, and you blink a few times, getting your bearings. ten pm. not too late, but late enough that you’d be dragging tomorrow. you pick up your phone and open the notification—a text from an unknown number. your heart skips, then flutters just a bit.

unknown: hey, it's late but i wanted to text you. i hope i didn’t freak you out too much when you saw me on stage today, and i’m sorry i didn’t say anything… it was just so nice meeting you without all the screaming, you know?

a smile spreads across your face as you read it. the way he texted was just like how he talked - a bit of a ramble, slightly scattered, but somehow so sweet. he was trying to explain himself, worried he might’ve left you confused, even a little hurt. but underneath the words was that same earnest charm you’d seen in his eyes back in the bathroom, that natural warmth he’d shown before you’d known who he really was.

you type back, fingers moving faster than your sleepy brain can keep up.

you: well, it was definitely a shock, but once i got over it, i think i actually managed to get some good photos haha

a pause, and then you bite your lip, feeling that tug of nervous excitement. he’d reached out - he hadn’t had to, but he did. part of you wants to say something clever, something that hints at how surreal the whole day has felt, but instead, you decide to let the moment be simple.

his next reply comes almost instantly.

unknown: can i see them sometime? the photos, i mean. it’d be fun to see your side of the day :)

another rush of warmth fills your chest. he wants to see your work. you quickly save his number, tapping in a name that feels right, even if it’s a little embarrassing: my cutie. maybe it’s cheesy, maybe even cringe, but it fits him somehow - the endearing guy behind the idol.

before you can think twice, you hit send.

you: absolutely! i’ll go easy on you and choose only the coolest shots… mostly.

my cutie: so merciful 😌

you laugh, covering your mouth as if he could hear you from miles away. the way he teased you, with that same lightheartedness, made it easy to forget who he was. at this moment, he wasn’t an idol, a star, or even the guy in your photos. he was just someone who’d crossed your path in the most unexpected way.

you lean back, watching the messages pop up one by one, each more endearing than the last. it’s not long before the clock creeps past midnight, and you’re still talking—about everything and nothing. he tells you about the foods he misses from home, you tell him about the weirdest photoshoots you’ve done. eventually, his last text appears on the screen, the letters a bit more spaced out as though he’s getting sleepy too.

my cutie: hey, don’t think too much about today, alright? i liked meeting you… just you. i hope you can think of me like that, not all this other stuff. sleep well, my photographer :)

you stare at the screen, reading the words over and over, your eyes catching on the last two words, my photographer. Maybe you were reading into it, but your heart raced and a blush creeped up your face

you: sweet dreams..

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you woke up the next morning with a dull headache, the kind that reminded you you’d stayed up way too late. the soft morning light filtering through your curtains did little to ease the fog in your mind as you sat up and rubbed your temples. you really shouldn’t have stayed up so late. the night had been a blur of messages and thoughts, and now, in the quiet of the morning, it all felt almost surreal. your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the previous night, replaying the texts and wondering if it was all real.

you grabbed your phone off the nightstand and unlocked it, scrolling through your messages. sure enough, there it was - your conversation with him, still fresh on the screen. your heart skipped a beat as your eyes scanned his words, and a flutter of giddiness spread through your chest. it was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time, something light and warm that made you smile to yourself like you were holding onto a secret.

you stretched and groaned softly, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep, but the thought of him made it hard to focus on anything else. after a few more minutes of half-hearted attempts to wake up, you started getting ready for the event you had scheduled today. normally, you'd feel excited to be at another idol meet, camera in hand, ready to catch those perfect moments. but today, something was different. you were a lot less excited about meeting the idols after meeting him. sunoo, with his sweet messages and even sweeter personality, had somehow made the whole idol experience feel less… important. how could you focus on anyone else when he was already occupying so much of your thoughts?

still, you pulled yourself together, slipping into your outfit and grabbing your gear. you left the house and made your way to the venue, your usual excitement returning as you walked through the crowds of fans, eager to capture the perfect moments for fans. you focused on your work as best you could, snapping photos with precision, but a part of your mind was always wandering back to the messages with him. your fingers hovered over your camera, your heart racing every time you thought of the next time you’d get to talk to him again.

the day passed in a blur, each hour slipping by faster than the last. by the time you got home, you could barely keep your eyes open, but there was something more pressing than rest now, you needed to go through the photos. you decided to post a few teaser shots on your instagram, and checking your website to see if there were any new purchases. it was something you did every day, a small ritual, but today it felt like the least important thing on your mind.

after a quick check of your sales, you set your phone down and settled onto the couch for a while. your excitement for the evening overtaking the exhaustion from the day, you picked up your phone again, your fingers itching to text him, to pick up where you left off. you couldn’t help but feel hopeful about the possibility of talking to him for hours, the way he made you laugh and made you feel seen - even if it was all still so new.

you jumped as the phone in your hand vibrated, the sudden buzz breaking the silence of the room. you glanced down, a smile tugging at your lips when you saw the name on the screen.

my cutie: hey, you free?

your heart fluttered. it was funny, you’d been just about to send him a message yourself, and now here he was, texting you first. you couldn't help but feel a little giddy at the thought.

you: yeah, what's up?

there was a short pause before his reply came through. you could almost imagine him typing, fingers hesitating over the keys, like he was still unsure.

my cutie: well, nothing really, just wanted to talk to you again…

your heart skipped a beat at his words. it was so simple, but the way he said it made you feel… special. he wanted to talk to you again. you smiled to yourself, feeling that warmth bubble up inside.

you: that's fine with me haha, so how was your day?

there was a brief pause before he replied, and when his message came through, it felt so… gentle. his words were easy, like you were two old friends catching up after a long day.

my cutie: pretty good, actually. spent most of the day rehearsing, but it wasn’t too bad. honestly, it was nice to have a quiet day after all the craziness, and i kept thinking how nice it would be to talk to you again. so here i am. 😊

your heart skipped a beat. the way he said it was so sweet, and it made you feel like you were part of his day, something he looked forward to. you couldn’t help but smile as you typed your reply.

you: haha, glad! my day was pretty normal - took a bunch of photos, posted some stuff online… just the usual grind. but talking to you now is definitely the highlight of my day.

you paused, then added another message

you: so, what did you get up to today besides being a super idol lol

a beat passed, and you could almost hear his laugh through the phone. when his reply came, it was exactly the kind of sweet, teasing tone you’d hoped for.

my cutie: oh, you know, just being a super idol... rehearsing, eating my weight in snacks, pretending to be a professional 😅 but honestly, i was kinda looking forward to this all day.

you laughed,

you: i bet the snacks were more important than rehearsal, at least they would be for me haha

my cutie: hey, snacks are an essential part of the idol lifestyle! gotta keep the energy up, right :)

you laughed out loud, feeling completely at ease now, like you’d known him far longer than you actually had. the conversation flowed easily between the two of you, natural and comfortable, and you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm of it. everything felt so normal despite everything that made this situation anything but.

you: i’m sure the snacks were well worth it. so, do you often just, like, have an evening off where you can do nothing?

my cutie: ha, you have no idea how rare that is. but, yeah, i get the occasional evening off. Although i usually just lay on the couch, eating snacks, and watching k dramas. sometimes i just need to forget for a bit.

you: sounds pretty perfect, honestly. no better way to recharge.

there was a brief pause, and when his message came through, it was a little more thoughtful than the previous ones.

my cutie: yeah, it is. but honestly, talking to you like this is kinda the best recharge i’ve had in a while.

he quickly sent another message

my cutie: actually… i was wondering… how would you feel about meeting up sometime? we could, you know, hang out. maybe grab some food or something, just the two of us?

you blinked at the screen, your heart racing. it was such a simple invitation, yet it made your stomach flutter with excitement. He wanted to spend time with you, just the two of you. you quickly typed your reply, your fingers moving faster than you could think.

you: i’d love that. when were you thinking?

the reply came almost instantly, his message light and happy.

my cutie: how about this weekend? we can pick a spot, no pressure, just a nice, easy time together.

your heart skipped a beat at the idea of finally meeting him in person. it felt like everything was falling into place, and you couldn’t wait to share that moment with him.

you: that sounds perfect. i’m honestly so excited for it. 😊

my cutie: i’m really looking forward to it too. we can pick a spot, no pressure, just a nice, easy time together.

his words felt so relaxed and sweet, and the thought of a simple, carefree time together made your heart swell with affection.

you: can’t wait! talk soon, cutie. 😊

my cutie: talk soon! get some rest, okay? i’ll be thinking about you. 😌

You blush as you realize you called him a cutie over text. it wasn’t just a passing thought - no, you actually typed it out and sent it to him. You basically called him a cutie to his face, albeit through a screen, and now you're not sure if you're more embarrassed by the words or how quickly they slipped out.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

sunoo was lying on the couch, completely sprawled out, his legs draped lazily over the armrest as he kicked his feet and grinned at his phone. he felt like a teenage girl, the way he was giddily tapping away, heart fluttering with every message from y/n. it was all so… effortless. so natural. talking to her felt like slipping into a warm blanket, and no matter how many times they texted, it never felt boring or dull. she was just so perfect in his eyes, so easy to talk to. the way she made him feel special without even trying, how her words were like little sparks of joy that lit up his day... he couldn’t help but smile at the screen, his heart swelling in his chest.

the conversations were always light, casual - never forced, always just right. but beneath the surface, sunoo felt something more. every message, every response, was like a sweet little secret they shared, even if neither of them had said it out loud yet. he was starting to realize he was way too invested, maybe even falling for her without meaning to. it was becoming obvious to him, but he still hadn’t figured out how to make her see it.

his heart skipped a beat when he thought back to last night - he’d worked up the courage to ask her to meet up this weekend. well, he hadn’t exactly called it a date - he didn’t want to scare her off - but he had definitely dropped enough hints, he felt his face heat up at the memory of how nervous he’d been.

as excited as he was, there was a wave of uncertainty. he was so down bad for her, so caught up in these feelings that he couldn’t quite control. the reality of it hit him in waves, especially when he realized just how badly he was falling for this perfect woman. he couldn’t help but feel like he was a little out of his depth.

it had been so quick, but it felt so right. every time he saw her name pop up on his phone, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. and the best part was, she seemed just as genuine, just as real as when they first met, she always treated him like a real person, like he wasn't a global superstar, it was nice. and yet, there was still that little doubt gnawing at him. was she feeling the same way, or was he reading too much into their conversations? it didn’t help that his group members were starting to catch on. they’d tease him relentlessly, calling him out when he’d get all starry-eyed and distracted.

sometimes, when they all gathered together, they’d look at him with knowing smirks, teasing him even more. but it wasn’t just his groupmates that were noticing. he couldn’t help it, he just stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop replaying their conversations in his head, imagining how things could unfold if they really took a step forward. it was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

and despite all that nervousness, that overwhelming feeling of uncertainty, sunoo couldn’t help but get even more excited. maybe it was reckless, maybe he should take it slow, but when it came to her, all he could think was what if… what if she felt the same way?

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you woke up early on sunday, excitement buzzing in your chest. you knew today was the day. you wanted everything to be perfect - especially the way you looked. it was silly, you told yourself. you wanted him to like you for you, for the person you truly were, not just the way you looked. but still, there was that little part of you that wanted to catch his eye, make him think you were cute, maybe even a little alluring. just the thought of him noticing you in that way made your heart flutter.

you picked out a soft, fuzzy sweater that felt like a warm hug, paired it with a cute skirt and tights, something simple but put-together. it wasn’t over-the-top, just enough to feel confident, maybe even a little special. you took a few moments to do your makeup, just enough to highlight your features but not make it obvious. you wanted to look effortless, but also effortlessly cute. after a quick check in the mirror, you grabbed your bag, checked the time, and rushed out the door, heart racing with anticipation.

the coffee shop was just a short walk away, and you arrived a little earlier than you had planned. upon checking your phone, you realized you had arrived twenty minutes early. you smiled to yourself, relieved that you had plenty of time to settle in. you thought about grabbing a table to wait for him, maybe look over the menu or just check your messages, but when you walked in, your eyes immediately landed on him.

there he was, sitting at a small table by the window, already looking at you with those warm eyes, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. just like the first day you saw him, he looked effortlessly cute - his hair a little messy in that endearing way, his smile soft and inviting. he’s already here? your heart skipped a beat as your own cheeks flushed, warmth spreading across your face.

for a moment, you just stood there, taking in the sight of him, suddenly unsure of yourself. was he waiting for you? was he nervous too? but before you could think too much, your legs carried you toward the table. you smiled nervously, trying to keep your cool as you sat down across from him. you sat down across from sunoo, the nervous energy in the air palpable. there was a slight flush on his cheeks, the same adorable color you saw the first time you met him, and the way he smiled at you made your heart flutter.

“hey,” you said softly, smiling as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’m glad you’re here.”

“me too,” sunoo replied, his voice a little breathless. he adjusted in his seat, fidgeting with his cup before looking back at you, his eyes soft. “i, uh… i hope i’m not making things awkward. i don’t really do this often, you know? go out on, um, dates…” he trailed off, clearly trying to sound casual, but you could tell he was a little nervous. it was endearing. the way his words came out, a little stilted and unsure, but with a warmth that made you feel safe.

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling your nerves settle a bit. “it’s okay,” you said gently, reaching for your drink. “i’m nervous too, honestly. but it’s nice, right? just getting to know each other in a quiet, relaxed place.”

sunoo nodded eagerly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah, i agree. i like this. it’s nice not having to worry about people... you know, staring at us, or... getting distracted.”

the way he said it, so simple, made you feel a sense of calm. the pressure was off. it was just the two of you. the conversation flowed easily after that, like old friends catching up. you talked about everything—the coffee shop, your favorite books, movies, random little things that made you laugh. time seemed to slow down, and the more you learned about him, the more you liked him.

as the conversation continued, sunoo’s nervous energy seemed to settle, and he started to relax more, his gestures becoming a little more fluid. you noticed how his hands would gesture softly when he talked about something he loved, and how his eyes sparkled when he smiled at you. there was something magnetic about him, even in the small, intimate moments.

after a while, you both finished your drinks, and sunoo suggested moving on to the second part of the day. “so, i was thinking... do you want to go to the aquarium after this? i know it’s a little cliche, but i think it could be fun.” he looked at you with those wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for your response.

you smiled, feeling a wave of warmth fill your chest. “that sounds perfect. i love aquariums. it’s kind of romantic too, don’t you think? all those beautiful fish, soft lighting... it could be peaceful.”

sunoo’s face lit up. “yeah! exactly! i thought it might be nice, too.”

you both stood and walked out of the coffee shop together, the air crisp against your skin. sunoo seemed to walk a little closer to you now, and you couldn’t help but notice how your arms brushed occasionally. you could feel the electricity in the air—those small moments of closeness that made everything feel more meaningful.

when you arrived at the aquarium, the dim lighting and soothing sounds of water immediately set the tone. it was quieter here, peaceful. the gentle sway of the sea creatures and the soft glow of the tanks made everything feel almost dreamlike. as you strolled through the exhibits, you found yourselves walking slowly, side by side. sunoo kept glancing over at you, a soft smile on his face.

“this is nice,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “i’m glad we did this. it’s just… calm. and we can just… talk, you know? no pressure.”

you nodded, your heart swelling. “yeah, i feel the same. it’s nice to be able to take it slow. no rushing.”

there was a slight pause, the quiet around you only amplified by the soft bubbling of the water in the tanks. you stopped in front of a large tank filled with glowing jellyfish, their bodies floating gracefully. the soft light made everything feel even more serene. sunoo glanced at you and then at the jellyfish, his voice barely above a whisper.

“i think i like that about you,” he said, his words a little hesitant but so genuine. “you make me feel like i can just be myself around you.”

you looked at him, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. your heart skipped a beat as you realized how much it meant to share this moment together, you responded softly, your gaze meeting his a slight smile on your lips, “i’m really glad i’m here, with you.”

sunoo’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before his lips curled into a small, shy smile. “me too. i didn’t think it’d feel this… nice. i guess i was kind of nervous, but now…” he trailed off, taking a small step closer. “i don’t want this to end, you know?”

you could feel your breath catch at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out gently, brushing your fingers against his hand. his eyes flickered down to your hand, then back to your face, a soft blush creeping up his neck. “i don’t either,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “i like this. being with you.”

there was a moment of silence, the world around you fading into the background as you both stood there, just looking at each other. the soft glow of the aquarium illuminated his face, and for a second, you felt like you were the only two people in the world. everything felt so simple, yet so perfect.

sunoo took a deep breath, as if summoning the courage for something. “do you maybe… want to do this again sometime? i mean, not the aquarium. but… you know. like, a real date. with you.”

your heart skipped, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “i’d like that,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. “i really would.”

sunoo smiled back, the shy, endearing boy you’d come to know so well, and for a moment, it felt like everything was falling perfectly into place. the date was everything you had hoped for - and more.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you left the aquarium, your mind still buzzing from the experience, but there was something else now - an undeniable tension in the air between you two. it felt different, almost electric. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but every time your hands brushed, it felt like something more than just a coincidence.

then, as you walked side by side down the sidewalk, sunoo’s hand gently found its way into yours. the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours made your heart skip a beat. you didn’t even have time to process the action before a blush crept up your cheeks. looking over at him, you noticed his cheeks were flushed too, and his eyes were slightly widened, almost like he was still surprised by his own boldness. it was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen.

the two of you continued walking, your steps a little slower, savoring the moment. when you reached a quieter part of the sidewalk, you stopped and turned to face him. sunoo paused too, his eyes searching yours with a hint of curiosity.

you felt your heart race, your mouth suddenly dry. "i was wondering..." you started, unsure of how to phrase it, the words coming out more nervously than you intended. "would you want to come over and watch a movie?"

as the question left your mouth, you immediately felt heat rise in your face. it sounded so simple in your head, but now that it was out in the open, it felt much more vulnerable. “i-i’m just not sure i want today to end yet,” you mumbled, barely able to make eye contact, your blush deepening.

for a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath, and you were starting to feel like maybe you’d overstepped. but then you saw it—the way sunoo’s eyes softened, his lips curling into that familiar, shy smile you’d come to adore. he looked at you with a sense of warmth that made your heart flutter.

“honestly, i would love that,” he replied, his voice gentle, and there was something about the way he said it that made you feel like everything was falling into place.

your heart swelled with relief and excitement as you both continued holding hands, walking back to your place. the city lights around you were soft, casting a warm glow as you made your way to your apartment. it felt like the perfect end to a perfect day, and yet there was a sense of anticipation in the air, like something more was about to unfold.

once you got inside, the familiar comfort of your apartment seemed to settle around you. you slipped your shoes off and sank onto the couch, the soft cushions inviting you in. then, without really thinking about it, you moved a little closer to sunoo, leaning into him just enough to feel the warmth of his body against yours. you were suddenly aware of the way he tensed up a little, but it didn’t last long - he quickly relaxed into the position, and you could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he settled beside you.

you could both feel the electricity of the moment, the growing closeness that you both had been dancing around all evening. your stomach fluttered with nerves, but it felt right. it felt like you were both figuring out what this was. you grabbed the remote, trying to distract yourself a movie. you chose one of the first films that popped up on the screen—something lighthearted, you thought. but as the opening credits rolled, you suddenly realized you had made a terrible mistake. you hadn't checked the rating, and it was definitely not the kind of movie you’d intended. the film was rated R, and as the characters in the movie started to get closer, you felt the heat rise in your face again.

you tried to keep your focus on the screen, but every time the camera panned to the characters, your eyes couldn’t help but dart over to sunoo. you caught him quickly glancing away, a nervous chuckle escaping him. his whole body was a little tense, like he was trying to avoid acknowledging the fact that you were both watching an incredibly intimate scene.

the background noises from the movie only made things worse - moans and heated whispers. the tension between you two was palpable, like you could cut it with a knife. you were both blushing furiously, trying to ignore the scene unfolding, but it was impossible.

you tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a strangled cough. you grabbed the remote in a panic, fumbling with it as you quickly skipped ahead, fast-forwarding past the scene with a little too much force. but even as the steamy scene disappeared from the screen, the awkward energy lingered, and you both sat there, still feeling the weight of the moment.

for a long while, neither of you spoke. the movie played on, but it was clear that neither of you were really paying attention to it anymore. sunoo glanced over at you with a nervous smile, the soft lines of his face lit by the glow of the television screen.

you couldn’t help but lean in closer, the pull between you two too strong to ignore. you knew you probably shouldn’t, considering that whatever was going on between you was still undefined, and maybe rushing it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. but in that moment, it didn’t matter. the space between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, and you just couldn’t hold back anymore.

you glanced up at sunoo, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart flutter. there was a quiet intensity there, a longing that mirrored your own, and in that look, you found something you hadn’t expected - he wanted this too.

without thinking, you shifted, positioning yourself so you were now facing him, your body comfortably nestled in his lap. he clearly hadn’t expected the sudden move, and you could feel his breath hitch in surprise, but there was no tension, no hesitation. he relaxed almost immediately, his hands gently settling on your waist, as though he was silently saying, it’s okay, I want this too.

you paused for a moment, just taking him in. sunoo wasn’t bulky, not like other guys you had met, but he was slender and graceful, his body still holding the quiet strength of someone who took care of himself. his frame felt right against yours, and his face - so beautiful, so expressive - made your heart race. there was something about him, something that made every word feel softer and every movement feel like it meant something more.

his eyes flickered to your lips and back up to your eyes, a silent invitation, and without even thinking, you leaned in slightly. in a moment of shared understanding, he closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was gentle. his lips were soft and warm, the touch sweet. everything about the kiss was tender, but you could feel the undercurrent of desire in it. it was like he was pouring everything into that moment - the way he pulled you closer, his hands now gently resting on the curve of your back, holding you to him as if you might slip away. it was a sweet, almost perfect kiss, just like him - full of emotion, but soft, full of warmth and affection, like he was telling you everything he couldn't quite say with words. you broke the kiss, your faces still inches apart, both of you breathing a little faster, hearts racing. the air between you was thick with unspoken words, but there was an understanding. whatever this was between you - however undefined or new - it was real.

he broke the silence with a simple sentence “i don't want to go on anymore dates that might not be dates,” he said with a laugh, “i really want to go out with you for real, i’m in love with you.”

you smile, your heart still racing, “me too, i'm in love with you too.”

56 notes · View notes

ofmdrecaps · 7 days ago

Text

11/17-18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Minnie Driver; Dominic Burgess; Anapela Polata'ivao; Brian Gattas & Connor Barrett; Nat Torress; Articles; Transgender Awarness Week; Last Chance for OFMD Buys Boats!!; Fan Spotlight: Frames for the New Unicorn; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Love Notes;

Hey crew! Sorry it's been a bit of a week over here between work and home stuff so I'm always like 4 days behind. I'm trying to catch up and will when I can. For now, here's a big ol pile of news!

= Rhys Darby =

Well as you can probably tell Rhys is super busy at the moment! Two interviews today! Now that's overkill! You're a lunatic and I love it!

youtube

More show dates!

Aotearoa dates!

WGN - 27 MAR, Opera House

CHC - 29 Mar, Isaac Theatre Royal

AKL - 3-4 APR, Bruce Mason Centre

You can get tickets on Rhysdarby.com w/password ROBOT

for UK / Ireland Tickets:

Order tickets on Mickperrin.com w/password RDPRIORITY24

Source: Rhys' Instagram

More Daily Doodles!

Sad news Daily Doodle Fans:

Source: Rhys Darby's Free Substack

= Taika Waititi =

More Interior Chinatown interviews!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Movie Podcast (@themoviepodcast)

instagram

Source: TheMoviePodcast Instagram

Source: Coastal House Media

= Con O'Neill =

PSA from Con on Bsky!

Source: Con O'Neill's bsky

= Samba Schutte =

Samba attended the Hell Hath No Fury Premiere!!

Source: Samba's Instagram Stories

= Minnie Driver =

Happy 6th anniversary to Minnie and Addison (Nov 17th!)

Source: Minnie Driver Instagram

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico is on Bluesky!

Source: Vico's Bluesky (Special thanks to Chloe, aka gheyandwoke for bringing it to my attention! It's also Vico and Ane's 3 year anniversary! Congrats you two <3

Source: Vico's Instagram

More news for Vico-- they will be performing in “Tales of the Transcestors: The Divine” in the Greenway Court Theatre in CA! "Tales of the Transcestors: The Divine is a must-see World Premiere that reimagines folklore, mythologies, and spiritual guides across time and cultures. Through three interwoven stories rooted in Native Hawaiian tradition (Kapaemahu), Islamic mysticism (djinn), and spiritual alchemy (the Rebis), the production unearths personal and cultural histories to reclaim trans wisdom, healing, power, and joy. Tales of the Transcestors: The Divine captures the tension between inherited memory and lived experience, building a portal for audiences to enter a "world between worlds"—where lineage, desire, time, and space are fluid and ever-shifting."

Show Dates and Times:

Thursday December 12th - Doors: 7:30pm, Show 8pm.

Friday December 13th - Doors: 7:30pm, Show 8pm

Saturday December 14th - Doors: 2:30pm, Show 3pm - *ASL Interpreted* Show followed by Talkback

Saturday December 14th - Doors: 7:30pm, Show 8pm

Ticket information

Source: Celebrationthtr and Vico's Instagram Stories

= Anapela Polata'ivao =

Official Tinā poster is up!

Source: Tinā Film Instagram

= Brian Gattas & Connor Barrett =

I am feeling like a goober but I forgot the context of where our Hornberry and Siegfried were at! If you happen to know please let me know-- getting to see Mr. Barrett dance though really made my day!

Source: Brian Gattas Instagram Stories

= Nat Torres =

Nat once again keeping us fed with the adorable pup content.

Source: Nat Torres Instagram

= Dominic Burgess =

Dominic doesn't just collect kitties, he collects physical media as well! He was kind enough to share some of it with us! (I'm a physical media hoarder so I was excited).

Source: Dominic's Bluesky

== Articles ==

Thank you so @adoptourcrew for sharing this article from The Geekiary!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

== Transgender Awareness Week ==

The fabulous These/Thems have shared a very instructional video with out bestie Vico on the differences between cis, genderqueer and trans! Check it out below!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by THESE THEMS Queer TV (@these_thems)

instagram

Source: These Thems Instagram

== Tiny Crew Big Raffle ==

More updates from OFMD Buys Boats! The raffle closes 23:59 Thursday 21st November 2024 (GMT)! So if you want to donate and enter for the raffle remember to get to it right away!

How to Enter

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Frames For The New Unicorn =

This beautiful collaboration by so many of our crewmates is finally up! Check out this beautiful dedication to Izzy and Con O'Neill! To learn more about the project, see the individual frames and who made them, please check out their linktr.ee!

youtube

Source: So Many Places, going with the Youtube Channel

= Other Frames Projects =

I'm waiting on permission to share.. but there's another frames project in the works! This time the moonlight scene! If you'd like to learn more you can go to Ram's Bsky Does anyone know of any other frames projects going on? I would absolutely LOVE to see something for like Oluwande, or Lucius, or Jim, or Spanish Jackie! I'm just curious if I'm missing some!

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

New episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction-- and it's the #AssTonight episode! An "Oral history" (tee hee). Oh and Alex Sherman shared it on Bluesky!

Source: Our Flag Means FanFiction Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. This week has already somehow been pretty crazytown on my end, how bout yours?

I know a lot of you are going through it. I am so sorry it's so hard. This is just a gentle reminder that you are allowed to be upset, and you are allowed to be stressed or depressed. Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and it's okay to not be okay for a while. Please just remember that even when the darkest days are here, there is ALWAYS some light. Find some things that bring small bits of light to your life-- maybe a walk, or a special treat, a hug from a friend on or offline, or taking a moment out of your day to give someone a compliment -- whatever it is that brings that dopamine to your brain. Little things help train our brain to know that good things CAN happen, so exposing yourself to those little things day by day can help build what's sort of like a good things muscle. As more and more happen, the rough times become easier to tolerate because they are sprinkled with good things.

You are so very strong, and I know you can get through whatever you are going through. I know you don't feel like it, but you are, even when you feel your lowest. I believe in you, the crew believes in you, even if we've never spoken, we want you to be okay, okay?

Please take care of yourselves lovely, you make the world a better place by being here <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by @thelatestkate

instagram

Source: The Latest Kate's Instagram

36 notes · View notes

swifty-fox · 5 months ago

Text

“New boys rolled into town today. Well, old boys. New-old boys.” Curt wobbles his head from side to side in thought, “Old as in been in the club a while, New as in y’aint met them yet. They been out in Cheyenne the last few years, long before you started hanging off me like the rest of my girlfriends,” He gestures around to Ken, who smirks knowingly, and Ev, who rudely salutes him.

“Good riders,” Ev agrees.

“Great bikes, real old school choppers.” Ken adds

“Yeah, you like a good ride dontcha Kenny,” Curt leers. John feels their legs hook more tightly under the table, “Now, if these animals would let me finish-”

Curt pauses to wait, only to be met with silence, and nods pleasedly before continuing.

“- was gonna say I, you might wanna go meet ‘em. Get some more photos for your little mod-podge photo collage.”

John grins at him, because Curt never said anything seriously when he could be flippantly rude but was no less sincere for it, and tweaks his ear, “See, this is why I hang out with you skuzzes.”

“Thought it was ‘cos we don’t stink half as bad as half the dropouts in this bar and are prettier than the other half?”

“Curt,” John says, stealing his drink to have a sip of the same lukewarm beer that was in his own glass, “Whoever told you that you didn’t stink was lying to you.”

“Hey, Ken took me out back last week and bathed me!”

“They nice guys? Or will I get my teeth knocked in for shoving a camera in their faces?”

“Nice enough,” Ev says, hand stroking up and down Helen’s hip. The motion left grease stains behind on her pale jeans, but she either didn’t notice or was well-used to it by now,

Ken picks up where he leaves off, all their voices rising over the crowd; John snaps a picture, “Benny’s real quiet, but DeMarco already thinks he’s a movie star. Shocked he hasn’t hunted you down for his debut photoshoot by now.”

“DeMarco’ll pop you one good if he hears you callin' him Benny.”

“Not, Ben- Benny. Gale-Benny.”

“Since when do we call Cleve, Benny?”

“Jesus, Ev, forgot you were busy with your little rugrat back then. Chick used to call him that. Said he looked just like this kid Benny he used to ride with back in the forties, ‘fore he showed up with those scars.”

“Scars?” John asks, calling to mind all the ways a human body could be broken apart.

“Yeah,” Curt answers, leaning forward and tracing a ringed finger against both hollows of his cheeks, “Just showed up one summer with big slashes in both cheeks, almost down to the bone, I remember. He’d rescued some old lady from being mugged, got slashed by some kids knife.”

“I heard it was from pushing drugs,” Ken said, his Arkans drawl sweet as honey

“Fuck no, man doesn’t even smoke and you think he’s out there running cocaine for Castro? I was there, I know what happened” Curt shakes his head, “Man’s straight as they come, save for the whole,” he waves his hand, “outlaw biker deal.”

“Yeah,” Ev agrees, “What is the deal with that?”

“Dunno, Everett, think maybe he likes bikes and traffic tickets,” Curt answers ponderously.

“Oh, look at him,” Ev nudges Ken and nods at John, “He’s eating this up.”

John puts his camera down, “If you three stooges didn’t make such good subjects I wouldn’t need to take the photos. Helen, you’re the exclusion of course, I’ll photograph you however or whenever you want, Doll.” Helen laughs over Ev’s sharp whistle of warning to back off, cheeks flushing bright red because she was one of the few truly good girls that hung about the club.

curt in this whole scene:

#swiftywrites #tfd #two fingers down

64 notes · View notes

coraniaid · 7 months ago

Note

🔥 on fuffy's dynamic? or anything fuffy related

I think most Fuffy shippers – me included for sure – have a habit of making Faith seem a bit too … well, nice.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Faith a lot. Not just as a character – and she is one of my favorite characters on the show, even if she only appears in less than two dozen episodes – but on a personal level too I have a lot of empathy for her. I think she has a pretty rough deal in life. I think she’s very badly let down by a lot of people, both before and after becoming a Slayer. I think the narrative itself is often far less sympathetic to her than it is to other characters. I think she’s pretty miserably unhappy most of the time, and I think her redemption arc is genuinely very good, even with the little we see of her post-Sanctuary.

That said, it feels to me that a lot of Fuffy fanfiction is written by people who have decided, whether consciously or not, that the “real” Faith is the Faith we see awkwardly asking Buffy if she wants to go the dance with her in Homecoming since she already has the tickets, or showing up on Buffy's doorstep in Amends with some crappy Christmas presents, still not quite able to admit there was never any “big party” she could have gone to instead, however obvious it is at this point, and somehow managing to make a million different heartbreaking microexpressions when Buffy says she’s glad to see her.

Yes, I like those moments too – I like them a lot – and I think that they are definitely indicative of a real aspect of Faith, one she tries hard to keep hidden most of the time. But I think it’s an injustice to her character to make that the sum total of her personality. If this were all there was to Faith’s character, she wouldn’t be half as compelling.

What about the Faith who, however troubled she looked at first, manages to shrug off the fact her new boss is planning to have Willow murdered when he tells her he’s also bought her a Playstation? What about the Faith who attacks Joyce, ties her up and threatens to kill her? What about the Faith who fantasies about stabbing Willow and taunts Tara by telling her how much Willow used to love Oz? What about the Faith who, right from her first appearance, is perhaps a little bit too into beating up vampires and killing demons? What about the Faith who threatens to torture Buffy, who tries to kill Angel, who definitely does torture Wesley and who kills Professor Worth while he begs for his life? What about the Faith who probably was going to kill Xander? What about what Faith does to Buffy in Who Are You?

I’m not saying all Fuffy authors should exclusively write angst-ridden enemies-to-lovers in which for the first 100,000 words Faith really does seem to revel in being able to kill things without consequences even as she lets her obsession with Buffy Summers lead her into actively and deliberately trying to hurt her or bring her down to her level. (Though it would perhaps be nice if some of it was like this!) I don’t have any moral objection if people would rather write fluff in which Faith and Buffy have an awkward first kiss at the Homecoming Dance, or AUs in which Faith never sides with the Mayor, or post-canon fic which takes for granted the fact that Faith is now redeemed and happily devoted to Buffy (it would make me a bit of a hypocrite if I did, since I’ve written all of these things).

But the sort of Fuffy writing and meta that I most enjoy, even if it doesn’t dwell on Faith’s worst moments or if it takes place in a continuity where they conveniently haven’t happened, always treats Faith as somebody who could do those things, if the circumstances were just a little bit different. Always recognizes her as somebody who does have a lot of barely-suppressed anger in her, who is more likely to listen to an authority figure who tells her what she wants to hear than one who doesn’t, who is more than a little bit jealous of Buffy’s life, who does think, deep down, that being a Slayer makes her better than other people.

To me, that’s the appeal of Faith as a character and also of her relationship with Buffy. The two things are kind of inseparable. Faith is a reflection of a lot of Buffy’s own worst impulses; she’s somebody that Buffy could have been if things had turned out differently (and if Buffy hadn’t had a certain inner strength and self-belief that Faith, for all her posturing, doesn’t quite ever have herself). She’s the Buffy we’ll see hints of throughout Season 6, the Buffy we saw in Season 2’s When She Was Bad, the Buffy we see in Season 3’s The Wish. And, as a reflection of Buffy, she has some of Buffy’s strengths as well as exaggerated versions of some of Buffy’s flaws. She’s not uncomplicatedly Evil, even at her worst, but she does a lot of things that are very hard to forgive, and she enjoys doing some of them more than some people like to admit.

I think if somebody’s going to try to write Fuffy, and get both Buffy and Faith right, that’s something they need to remember. Let Faith have some jagged edges. Let her be a little bit dangerous. Let her be a little bit cruel. Let her be a little bit self-destructive. Put simply: let her be Faith.

#btvs #asks #thank you for the ask!

68 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months ago

Note

AITA - I invited my brother to my work event but he is also my friend's ex, she also works with me.

So my brother (M 45ish) lives about 6 states away, I (F 31) see him 3-4 times a year if he has time to come, he has a busy life so it varies how often he's able to visit. This upcoming visit he plans on coming in during a huge work event where my workplace is hosting at an amusement park, the place is not small in any sense of the word. I really want to attend because on a normal day I can't afford to go to this place but I got some free tickets and they are letting us buy additional at a discounted rate. So I invited our while family thinking it would be a great activity for everyone and I can still get to spend time with my brother while having fun. Today, I get a message from my friend (F 27) that works with me telling me that I have no consideration for her feelings, I intentionally picked the same time as her, and I was just trying to hurt her. Here's the problem, I didn't even know about her plans to go until after I extended my invitation to my family. I truly think if I told them "oh sorry, none of you can go because our brother's ex has a problem with it" that sounds ridiculous. So I wasn't backtracking after already inviting them. Then we decided we wanted to go in the evening because we have company exclusive ride time from 8-11 and none of us want to stay there all day just to be there for that so we said we'd go around 5, which is when my friend decided to go. My brother just got married to his best friend and I understand she is hurt but they have been broken up for almost a year now and she's angry that I invited him because seeing him and his "bitch ass wife" as she put it would ruin her entire day. She genuinely even threatened to ruin our entire day if I actually bring him then called me selfish. She asked me how I would feel if she brought my ex (low blow mind you, that was a 4 year abusive relationship and then he shot himself in front of me. Hes now disabled in a nursing home) I told her that seeing him wouldn't bother me because I've worked past that with my therapist and I've learned to be bigger than that, I refuse to let seeing him hurt me. She asked and I gave her an honest answer about how I truly felt. Apparently, that was an attack on her because I was then called a cunt and told not to talk to her. I never once called her names during this entire conversation, I'm not that person. I even offered a solution of sharing my live location so we can avoid each other but that wasn't enough. She just wasn't going to be happy if he went. So in a sense of things, she's trying to make me pick sides but her choosing to have a relationship with someone states away that didn't work out isn't something that I feel I should have to be in the middle of. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

69 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Note

“Drank In My Cup” by Kirko Bangz for Connie Springer- Comfort + Smut

The lyrics: “Girl I know how much you really want somebody, want somebody that don't really need you” and “That ain't tryin' to love you baby, just fuck you instead” if that’s okay <3

Drank In My Cup

Girl I know how much you really want somebody, want somebody that don't really need you

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: friends-to-lovers trope, implied unrequited love, smut - blowjob, cunnilingus, vaginal sex (missionary), creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names.

Summary: Connie has been in love with you since college when you were living next door to each other in the dorms. He’s consoled you through countless of breakups and heard you in all your casual hookups. It hasn’t been easy for him and after graduation, he decides to move overseas in an attempt to get over you, cutting off all contact without explanation. Three years of radio silence later and the two of you finally reunite.

Author’s Notes: Inspired by one of AugustInTheWinter’s Patreon exclusive audios. Honestly, so so good, if you have the ability to do so, subscribe to him, it is so worth the money. Anyways, thanks for this request for the y2k karaoke party! I love this song. Enjoy!

If you told Connie Springer five years ago that you wanted to spend the night, he would have agreed, no question. Today, as he anticipates your arrival, he almost regrets saying yes.

A week ago, you contacted him, asking if you could stay at his place for the weekend while you’re here visiting. He checks the last text you sent him; it was five months ago, wishing him happy birthday. The one before that was exactly a year earlier, another birthday greeting. Your messages were more frequent then, but they gradually faded, probably because Connie never replied to any of them.

He's not trying to be a dick. He’s just too much of a coward to admit that he’s doing his best to get over you. And if that means ignoring you completely, so be it. At what cost, though? Losing his best friend?

This time, he actually does respond to you. Maybe it’s because after three years of being apart, he finally feels ready to face you again. Tonight will be the test. Is this really the best idea for him?

You knock on his front door, weekender bag in hand, heart beating faster, excited to see him. The last time was graduation when he told you that he’d be moving away to Marley for his new job. He didn’t even tell you that he was applying to companies overseas, so of course, you were shocked. Your friendship hasn’t been the same since. You used to be inseparable; now, you’ve never felt further apart.

He greets you politely when he answers the door, that familiar face instantly putting you at ease, despite the distance that’s grown between you. “Hey.”

“Hi, stranger,” you say, hugging him with your free arm. He’s tense when you touch him, not like his usual self. That’s one thing you always loved about Connie; how snugly he would hold you in his arms. It’s already awkward, but you continue to smile at him, hoping that whatever this tension is dissipates soon.

He leads you inside, taking your bag, setting it on the floor by one of the closed rooms. “Do you want a drink?”

“What do you have?” you ask, looking around his apartment, trying to find any remnants of your friendship. Pictures, ticket stubs from all the movies you watched together, all the little trinkets you’d get him as gifts for his birthdays. Nothing, there’s nothing in here. It barely looks decorated at all, except for a few posters he’s crookedly hung up.

“I’ve got water and some White Claws that have been festering in there since I moved here. Pick your poison.”

You laugh, happy to hear this side of him. “I’ll take the water, thanks.” You sit down on the couch, not sure where to start. “How have you been?”

He grabs a clean glass, turning the faucet on until your cup is almost filled to the brim. He carefully hands it to you, sitting as far away from you on the couch as possible. You shift in your seat, facing him, waiting for his answer. “Good. I’m good,” he says, avoiding your gaze, staring at the floor instead.

You take a sip of water, expecting him to elaborate more, but he doesn’t. “Do you like living here? In Marley?”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. There’s not that much more going on here than there is in Paradis.”

“Do you think you’ll ever move back home?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, guarded. “I don’t have any reason to, so probably not.”

“Well, I can think of one reason,” you say. “I miss you.”

His jaw clenches, defenses still up. You scoot closer, wanting this distance to disappear, physically and figuratively. You’ve been waiting for this reunion since he left, since he stopped contacting you almost completely. Wanting to finally make it right with him, the way it should have been ever since you first became close to him in college. You knew he liked you; he was always so obvious about it. And yes, deep down, you liked him too. But you were scared of ruining your friendship, of losing your best friend. You were so used to all your relationships ending in a breakup, you were afraid to cross that line with Connie in fear of losing him forever. When you finally mustered the courage to confess to him on the night of graduation, he told you he’d be moving to Marley for work. Because of your cowardice, you ended losing him anyways. But you won’t let tonight go to waste. You’ll do everything you can to salvage this. Even after all these years of distance between you, you won’t make the same mistakes again.

You close the gap, squeezing next to him on the couch. He glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“I miss you, Connie,” you whine, trying to free his arms from his chest. “Don’t you miss me?”

He shakes his head, relaxing only the slightest bit. “No, I don’t. I’ve worked too hard trying not miss you.”

“What do you mean?”

He finally looks at you, his gaze intense. “I moved because of you. I couldn’t take it anymore, watching you fall in love with every other guy except for me.”

“Connie.”

He unclenches, leaning towards you, face so close you can feel his breath on you as he speaks. “Do you know how hard it was for me? To hear you on the other side of the wall, moaning someone else’s name? And then months later, you’d come crying to me, wanting only my comfort to help you through your breakup. Then the cycle would just repeat over and over, driving me fucking insane because I could never have you for myself. I could only have you when you needed me, when you were heartbroken. Well, it wasn’t fucking fair okay? That’s why I left. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

You stare back at him, wide-eyed, heart thumping loudly in your chest. Quietly, you say, “I’m sorry, Connie. I…I didn’t know.”

He scoffs at you, rolling his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Why else would you come to me? You knew I was the only guy stupid enough to always say yes to you. So don’t fucking lie to me now and say that you didn’t know. You knew.”

You swallow hard before asking, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I? So I can get rejected and ruin our friendship? No. As much as I hated hearing you get fucked on the other side of the wall, I couldn’t stand not having you at all. Pretty fucked up, right?”

You remain still in your seat, unsure how to proceed from this. Eventually, he says, “You can stay here for the weekend, but I think it’s best if we just stop seeing each other after this, okay? It’s better for the both of us if we stop being friends.”

Before he can stand up to leave, you grab his wrist. “Well, good,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be friends anymore either.” You meet his lips with yours for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He melts into you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, easing into it. Realizing what’s happening, he pushes you off gently, stuttering, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You trail down his neck, sucking on his skin to leave love marks. “What I should have years ago.”

“You’re toying with me,” he whispers, closing his eyes, tipping your chin up to kiss you again. “Teasing me like you did all those times in college.”

“I’m not. I want it. I want you.” You lie back on the couch, spreading your legs for him.

He crawls on top of you, sliding your pants and underwear off simultaneously, dropping them to the floor, salivating at the sight of your glistening cunt, wet with arousal. “Well, too bad. I don’t need you anymore. You won’t get what you want so easily this time. Not after all the torment you put me through. You need a taste of your own medicine first.” He shoves his sweats down, releasing his hard cock from his boxers, stroking it in his fist. With a shaky breath, he whispers, “Come on. Show me how badly you want it.”

You peer up at him, getting on all fours, opening your mouth with your tongue sticking out. He smirks, tracing the outline of your lips with the tip of his dick, smearing his precum on you like gloss. “Fuck, never thought I’d see you like this.” He guides himself inside you, exhaling deeply as he slides all the way to the back of your throat, cursing once more. You give him what he wants, never taking your gaze off him, guzzling down his cock with each thrust he gives you, bobbing your head along his shaft.

“Damn, you feel even better than I imagined,” he moans, bucking his hips. After a couple more deep thrusts, you pull off quickly to catch your breath, wiping away the saliva leaking from your lips. “Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks in that concerned tone you love so much. He sounds exactly like he did in college, when he would cradle you gently in his arms as you cried about your latest heartbreak, completely oblivious to how much pain it caused him to see you like this. Connie would never break your heart; it took you too long to finally realize this. And maybe it’s too late to fix the damage that’s been done. But that doesn’t mean you won’t try.

You nod silently, reaching for the coffee table to take a sip of water. He wipes the tears from your eyes, brushing them away with his thumbs. “Are you sure?”

You smile at him, sniffling. “I’m sure, Connie.”

His expression is uncertain again. He doesn’t know whether to stay mad at you or be sweet. He’s always been sweet, and that obviously never worked out for him. If he shows you his mean side, will you stay? Does he even want you to stay?

You surround him again with your mouth, sucking on his cock head with your fist wrapped around his shaft. He closes his eyes, indulging in the pleasure, enjoying it a little too much. He won’t deny it; this has been one of his biggest fantasies since college, to see you like this. To feel you moan around his cock. And as much as he wants to continue spitting hurtful comments to you, make you feel guilty for toying with him all this time, his need to pleasure you overtakes him. His most precious fantasy is to finally hear you moan his name, and no one else’s.

He pulls out of you, jerking off while he tips your chin up to face him. “What do you want, huh? Want my mouth on you? Want me to eat out this pretty pussy? Is that what you want? Because I’ll give it to you, if you let me.” He’s desperate for it now, and so are you. So all you do is nod with your mouth still open, needy for it.

He eats you out sloppily, better than any guy you’ve been with. This is what he wanted, to prove to you that it should have been him all those times. And you regret it, all the useless hookups and casual relationships you put yourself through when you could have been with Connie instead. You come twice from his mouth before you start begging him to fuck you. “Please, baby.”

His eyes widen at the pet name, cock throbbing, ready to burst. “Okay, sweetie,” he huffs, composure wavering. “I’ll fuck you. I’ll give you what you want. I’m always giving you what you want.”

You hold him tightly, moaning his name while he fucks you with your legs wrapped around him. “You’re so good for me, baby. So fucking good for me,” he groans, drilling into you hard and fast. “I missed you so fucking much.” He orgasms with you, unloading his cum inside you, filling you up. You kiss passionately as the both of you come down from your highs, relaxing into each other’s arms.

It’s silent for a moment before you say, “I was going to tell you. On graduation day.”

“Tell me what?” he asks, grazing your lips with his fingers.

“That I liked you, too. And I wanted us to be together.”

He sighs. “But I told you I was moving, so you didn’t go through with it.”

“Yeah.”

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Damn, we are really dumb, aren’t we?”

You giggle, nestling your face into his chest, relishing the familiar warmth. “Yeah, we are.”

He rests his chin on the top of your head, massaging your back. “So, should we stop being dumb and finally do this? The right way?”

You nod, smiling. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

#connie springer #connie springer smut #connie springer x reader #connie springer x you #connie x you #connie x reader smut #connie x reader #connie springer x y/n #connie smut #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan connie #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

207 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

Note

Request: Wally with a Child!Reader who snuck backstage during a special live taping of Welcome Home to see him, as he is their favorite character

Oh this idea is cute!!! I like the trope of humans and puppets/cartoons coexisting (like in who framed roger rabbit) so im absolutely using that here

........

"Aaaand that's a wrap! Thank you all for coming to our exclusive live taping of Welcome Home! Be sure to gather up all your things before leaving through the exits on either side of the studio. Wally and his friends appreciate each and every one of you visiting their neighborhood!!"

The director's voice echoed over the intercom as the audience's applause gradually died down, with you being the last one to clap. Your hands almost hurt, but you didn't care. The smile on your face was huge

You still couldn't believe that you and your family got to actually see the entire Welcome Home cast in-person!

Especially Wally.

It's probably lame to say you liked the main character as a majority of the show's fans probably did...but it was true. You loved listening to his narrations, seeing him paint, and getting into all sorts of shenanigans with the gang.

During this live taping--which you won tickets to--he interacted with the audience a lot with his sweet eyes and warm smile, taking all of you on a journey into his world. You could see he was really happy to interact with all of you.

And that's why you were kinda sad when the curtains closed and the camera crew started packing up things, realizing it was already over. They still had a lot of work to do before they could put the episode on the usual television station Welcome Home was featured on, so they made sure every guest was out of the studio.

But fortunately, none of them noticed you sneaking down the steps and managing to find the door conveniently labelled "Backstage Access".

You knew you could get into a lot of trouble, though your family was catching up with some friends and their children. So surely they won't notice you were gone for quite a while.

You just really wanted to see Wally and personally tell him you're his biggest fan. It would make his day!

Eventually you did find him sitting by himself at the makeup booth, in front of a mirror surrounded by lights. His blue cardigan was draped over the chair, and he rolled up his sleeves before undoing the ascot around his neck. All the while, he smiled at his reflection dreamily with half-lidded eyes.

He looked a little tired, but happy nevertheless.

You would have approached him...if not for the director abruptly showing up, a stack of script papers in his hand. He seemed upset and annoyed, compared to the cheery tone he had earlier, so you just hid behind one of the large loudspeakers, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Look, Wally. How many times do we have to go over this?" He huffed. "You need to ease up on the excessive eye contact. It's been giving a few of my cameramen the creeps."

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry, sir. But..I thought that's what people liked.." Pouting slightly, the puppet looked at him, resting his elbow on the armchair to prop his chin up. "Where else can I look if not the camera or adoring audience? I can't just stare at the ceiling, y'know."

"..well it helps to blink every once in a while. That's what we humans do so it doesn't look like we're staring into each other's souls....like you're doing right now."

"Ah...am I..? Haha.." Wally laughed uncomfortably, forcing himself to blink as he fidgeted with the ascot in his hands. He looked down at the floor. "Sorry. It's just a habit-"

"Don't make excuses, Wally. I know eye contact is essential to your character but...I'm sure you wouldn't feel comfortable if I stared at you like that all the time, right?"

"Actually that wouldn't bother me at all." He gazed at the director with a polite smile, only for it to drop as he looked furious.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"...no? I'm only being honest, sir."

"...whatever. I have my lunch break now, so just...try to get what we discussed through your head." The director huffed, shaking his head before he turned and walked away, bumping into one of his assistants.

"You good, boss?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine..it's that damn puppet. I keep reminding him about his staring problem, but it's like I'm talking to a brick wall.."

Although he could barely hear them, Wally knew that he made the director upset...again. And that turned his usual smile upside down as he looked back into the mirror.

"I don't get it...everybody loved the show..." He muttered to himself, touching up his hair, but not even seeing his own reflection could cheer him up. "So why is he so...angry at me all the time?"

You frowned slightly as you watched his shoulders slump, hating how sad he sounded. That director of his was so cruel! He didn't know what he was talking about!

Determined to help your favorite character feel better, you finally gained the confidence to say something and emerge from your hiding spot.

"What am I doing wrong?"

"I...think you're doing your best, Wally. Don't listen to him."

"Huh..?" Surprised, he looked over and saw you shyly standing beside the loudspeaker, blinking in bewilderment that you were able to sneak back here unnoticed. "Oh hello, Neighbor--! I mean..." He paused, a bashful smile on his face. "S-Sorry, it's-

"Habit? Don't worry, it's okay." You reassured, stepping closer to him as you tried your best to contain your excitement. "You can call me Neighbor..or [y/n], if you wanna."

"[Y/n]..that's a nice name." He nodded, although his gaze turned serious as his eyes flickered left and right, before he leaned down to get closer to you. "It's nice to meet you, but I'm afraid you've must've taken a wrong turn. You can't be back here."

"I know, but..I really wanted to see you! You're my favorite and..I didn't like what that mean man said to you."

"Oh..him? Don't fret, my friend." Wally softly chuckled. "That "mean man" is my director and...he's only suggesting how I can improve myself! He can be blunt sometimes, but I have to listen to him. Just like how you have to listen to your parents and teachers."

"Yeah.....but he didn't have to be so rude." You huffed, hands on your hips. "If he has a problem with your staring, it's his fault, not yours. He's just a big ol' dummy."

He was amused by your attempts to defend him so fiercely, and he couldn't help but break into an even bigger smile.

"I agree, he is a big dummy..but that's a secret between you and me." He winked, before hopping down from his chair, opening his arms up to you. "Well thank you for lifting my spirits, dear [y/n]. I wish I had something for you, but...this is all I can offer."

"That's okay! I'm happy to help!" Nodding, you eagerly hugged him, feeling how soft his plush body was. "You're...not gonna tell anyone I'm here, will you?"

"Nope. Why would I do that to my number one fan?"

All you could do was beam at his compliment.

This was truly the best day ever. Not only did you get to meet Wally face-to-face...but you also helped him feel better!

Sneaking backstage was absolutely worth it.

#clanask #anonymous #welcome home x reader #wally darling #child reader #platonic #welcome home au

732 notes · View notes

sufferu · 13 days ago

Text

I rewrote part of the first chapter of my react fic to be more in-line with the themes of the story. Posting the original part of what I edited here for archival purposes. This is my attempt to be responsible, lol.

The Exhibition Of A Low Down Disgusting Good-For-Nothing Dog: Exclusive Tickets On Sale Now!! — Original Intro Chapter (The Trial Is About To Begin)

____

WITH ALL PRESENT, THE TRIAL SHALL NOW COMMENCE.

Everyone jumped. Garfiel swore loudly. “The Hell was that?!”

“Please try not to use language like that in front of our political opponents!” Otto cried.

ON THE STAND IS THE DEFENDANT NATSUKI SUBARU.

A harsh spotlight came on with a sound like a thunderclap, making everyone jump. It was focused a little to the left of the audience. The sheer brightness drew everyone’s eyes just as much as it forced them shut, adjusting agonizingly slowly as they attempted to make out what it was exactly that was being illuminated.

A glass jar — oversized. A cork in the top, sealing it shut. A dark figure huddled inside, covering its face from the onslaught of light that was no doubt much, much worse for the target than the onlookers nearby.

And as their eyes adjusted, it became clear that the figure isolated within that glass jar was—

“Subaru!” Beatrice cried, rushing forwards.

“Beako!” Subaru caught sight of her through the clear walls of his cage, rushing towards her and pushing against the glass in a desperate to reach her. “W-Wha—?”

“Subaru, Subaru!” Beatrice banged her fists against the clear surface. It didn’t budge. “Why is Subaru in there, I suppose? Let him out!”

“Be— Beako, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s gonna be alright! Do you know where we are?”

“I don’t— None of us do! Subaru!”

“None of— Emilia!” Subaru suddenly saw the other figures, rushing towards the trap behind Beatrice. “Emilia, where are we? What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry, Subaru, it’s alright!” Emilia babbled. “We’ll get you out, we’ll get you out of there soon—”

“Ow!” Garfiel’s fist bounced right off the glass. He hissed, cradling it to his chest. The wall remained clear and spotless. “What is this thing—?!”

“I can’t summon my spirits!” Julius realized, alarmed. “Subaru, are you—”

“I’m fine, you annoying prick! Nice to see you here, too!”

“Why isn’t any of my magic working?!” Emilia cried, trying and failing to freeze the glass.

“Where’s my sword?!” Ricardo shouted. “Did it really not—?!”

“Something tells me it wouldn’t be of much use anyway—”

“Subaru-dono, just hang in there—”

“Who the hell is that?!”

“R— Rem?!” Subaru had finally caught sight of the awoken sleeping beauty. His eyes filled with wonder and delight. “Rem! Rem—”

“Who the hell are you?!” Rem snapped again, backing away. “Why do you smell like that?!”

Subaru jerked away from the glass as though it had burned him.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Beatrice shouted, enraged. “Subaru’s tried so hard to wake you up, I suppose — don’t talk to him like he’s some — filth!”

“Who— I didn’t ask him to do anything!” Rem retorted. “Whoever he is, that boy is dangerous! I don’t know who all of you think that is, but—”

“Ah,” Subaru exhaled quietly, looking like he was trying really hard not to seem as devastated as he was. “So that’s how it is.”

THE DEFENDANT IS PUT ON TRIAL FOR HIS CRIMES. I, THE PROSECUTOR, HEREBY CONTEST THAT NATSUKI SUBARU IS A GUILTY OF ATROCITIES AGAINST THE WORLD ITSELF. BEFORE THE JURY, THE DEFENDANT SHALL FACE JUDGEMENT.

“There, you see?!” Rem cried.

“Wait— Subaru?” Julius frowned, remembering a stupid young man who threw a tantrum in the throne room because people were being mean to his crush, accepted a challenge from one of the most powerful knights in the kingdom, and sulked around the Karsten Manor for three days after he lost like a scolded puppy. It had been a pathetic display, but— “You think SUBARU committed some horrible atrocity? Really?”

It didn’t matter much that Subaru had gone on to help against the White Whale, the Witch Cult, and even perhaps the Great Rabbit. As far as his demeanor was concerned, Subaru was — at his absolute worst — a naive, annoying brat in need of some discipline. To suggest that someone like that would ever willingly do something as heinous as this voice seemed to be suggesting—

“Subaru would never do something like that!” Emilia exclaimed hotly, a sentiment that was being echoed by the entirety of her Camp.

“Subaru might be — a little strange,” Reinhard admitted. “But he’s a very good person! He wouldn’t do anything like you’re suggesting!”

“Big Bro’s a freak, but he’s not a war criminal!” Felt agreed.

“Barusu is useless and pathetic, not a demented sociopath,” Ram added, crossing her arms. “I don’t know what sort of ridiculous conclusions you may have drawn here, but I can assure you that he’s far too stupid and soft to do anything like what you are suggesting!”

“Thanks, nee-sama…”

“And Rem, my dear sister —” Ram turned to face her awakened twin, her eyes softening slightly. “It is true that Barusu is ridiculously suspicious, but I can assure you that he is not dangerous in the slightest. However badly he may stink.”

“I wash every day!” Subaru protested.

Rem looked unconvinced, but her attention had been redirected elsewhere. “Sister…?” she echoed.

THE TRAIL WILL BEGIN ONCE ALL ARE SEATED. DELIBERATION AND JUDGEMENT WILL BE RESERVED FOR AFTER THE TRIAL. THE JURY WILL DELIBERATE OUTSIDE THE TRIAL ROOM, ONCE ALL EVIDENCE HAS BEEN PRESENTED.

“So— that means we can leave after this is over?” Anastasia tried to clarify. “You’ll let us leave after this — this ‘evidence’ has been presented?”

THE MEMORIES OF THE DEFENDANT WILL BE PRESENTED AS THE EVIDENCE OF THIS CASE.

Protests from all directions erupted at this declaration.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Subaru squawked.

“That sounds incredibly violating!” Crusch agreed, eyes wide. “What gives you the right to — to publicly undress him like that? I refuse to have any part in this!”

“We have better things to do with our time than delve into some kid’s memories — or to play around in this theater at all!” Anastasia agreed disapprovingly. “As much as I may respect Natsuki-kun, I’m a busy gal. Even if he wanted this — which he clearly doesn’t — I can’t spare the time or attention for this sort of affair!”

“We absolutely do NOT want the memories of a member of our Camp blown up in front of two rival factions!” Otto squawked, gripping his hair. “What sort of outside interference IS this—?!”

“Betty’s Subaru deserves better treatment than his most private memories being used as entertainment, in fact!”

THE DOORS WILL REMAIN LOCKED FOR THE DURATION OF THE TRIAL. The voice continued, ignoring all of their protests. ONCE THE TRIAL HAS CONCLUDED, THE DEFENDANT AND THE JURY WILL ALL BE RETURNED TO THEIR BODIES AND MINDS, AT THE PLACE AND TIME OF THE SUMMONING. JUDGEMENT FOR THE DEFENDANT WILL BE LEFT IN THE HANDS OF THE JURY POST-TRIAL.

“LISTEN to us, for OD’S SAKE—” Garfiel was roaring.

“Why would a kid like that even NEED a trial like this?!” Ricardo shouted desperately. “He’s — a bit much sometimes, but he’s nothing CLOSE to—”

THE TRIAL WILL BEGIN IN EARNEST ONCE EVERYONE IS SEATED.

No matter how much they protested, the voice showed no signs of so much as hearing them cry out. After a few minutes of desperate calling, it quickly became clear that—

THE TRIAL WILL BEGIN IN EARNEST ONCE EVERYONE IS SEATED, the voice repeated once, and then it said not one word more.

“We don’t have a choice,” Crusch realized. “It’s either to watch — this, or…” Remain in this room forever.

“…Well then I guess that’s that, yeah?” Garfiel said uncomfortably.

“What?!” Otto squawked. “We can’t just let this— We don’t even know what this thing wants to show! What if it includes Camp secrets?! It could end up endangering our entire campaign!”

“Doesn’t mean a damn thing if we can’t ever get out of this damn place!” Garfiel retorted. “We can roll with whatever happens, but we have to be able to get out of here first!”

“That doesn’t mean we should just lie down and let something like THIS happen! Isn’t there any other way to get out of here?!”

“Do you see any other ways? I hate this just as much as you do, but would you really rather be stuck in here? We can’t win the Royal Selection if we stay stuck in this room for the next three years!”

“Sure but— I— AUGH! I really don’t like this! Isn’t there another way out?!”

“It’s such a mean thing to do!” Emilia added, protesting for an entirely different reason. “I— Even if Subaru really DID something really, really bad— Doesn’t he deserve a second chance? Hasn’t he proven that he deserves a second chance? Why does it have to be dragged up NOW?”

“Because the only other option is to never leave this room, apparently,” Garfiel replied, agitated. “I don’t like this either, but — there’s nothing they could show me that would make me think less of Captain as is, and I don’t wanna stay here with him trapped in a cage just cause — cause I’m scared of what I might see, you know?!”

“Wait, wait!” Subaru banged his fist on the glass, looking panicked. “Wait, don’t I get a say in this?!”

“You think I want to do this, Barusu?” Ram shot back, arms crossed. “Watching your memories of bumbling around as an embarrassment sounds miserable. You may just end up being the most comfortable person in this room.”

Ferris blinked. Then he grinned, his tail curling mischievously by his side. “Well…”

“Ferris,” Julius warned.

“I mean, watching Subaru-kyun humiliate himself is a LITTLE fun—”

“I wouldn’t say—” Ricardo protested.

“Oh come on.” Ferris leaned backwards, catching Ricardo’s eye with a teasy look on his face. “Nyew’ve mentioned a nyumber of times nyow that nya wish nyew’d seen what Subaru-kyun was like during the Royal Selection Ceremony. Aren’t nya looking forward to a chance at that just a little bit?”

“What??” Subaru squeaked out, face scarlet.

“I mean…” Ricardo shifted, but the slight smile on his face did very little to deny it. “I’m sure it was annoyin’ at the time, but some dumb kid jumpin’ up to defend his crush from half the kingdom and causin’ a mess sounds really adorable in retrospect.” Subaru made an indiscernible, high-pitched noise. “Wouldn’t say no ta seein’ it for myself, if that’s what this is about…”

Julius coughed into his fist. “That aside,” he said, hiding a smile. “We don’t know if that memory in particular is what this — place — wants to show us, and even if we did, we don’t have an infinite amount of time. Subaru’s memories are not our business, and as much as I may — respect him as a colleague, they are not our priority, either.”

“Don’t think time will matter all that much if what that — voice — said is true,” Tivey said hesitantly. “If we’re going to just end up back when and where we were when this started, we could probably spend as much time in here as necessary.”

“Mimi doesn’t like it here,” Mimi declared, sitting down in Anastasia’s lap. “Let’s just get this over with so we can all go back to the inn.”

Anastasia sighed, but relented with a nod of her head.

“I’m really not sure—” Reinhard protested. “If Subaru has memories he doesn’t want us to see—”

“I doubt that moron has done anything worse than throw tantrums when he didn’t get his way,” Felt said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever he did to piss this — thing — off, it won’t be anything we can’t just brush off and forget about later. I’m with them: let’s just get this over with so we can all go back.”

Emilia was one of the last to be convinced.

“It’s not fair!” she protested desperately. “Subaru didn’t do anything! And even if he did— he— hasn’t he done enough to make up for it?! What could he possibly have done?!”

“Emilia-sama,” Crusch said. “Even if I believed him the type of boy to commit atrocities, there is nothing I can think of that could possibly outweigh the blessings that Subaru has given us over the course of the past year. You have my word that your knight will remain free of judgement from my camp.”

“Mine too,” Felt confirmed. “Big Bro probably did something very embarrassing, but that’s nothing unusual.”

“Why do we even have to see it, then?” Emilia begged. “Subaru’s a good boy! Can’t we just let him be?”

“I’d love to,” Anastasia muttered. “But unless ya want yer knight stuck in a glass jar forever, this seems like the only way out.”

Emilia turned to face Subaru, pitiful and panicked in his glass cell. After a long moment, she wordlessly took her seat.

Subaru was the only one left to be convinced.

“W-Wait!” he cried. “Wait, Emi— everyone, is this really necessary?! Isn’t this a breach of privacy?! What do you mean you’ll be watching— I don’t want this!”

“I— I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Emilia tried to say. “It’ll be over before you know it, alright?”

“I don’t want to do this!” Subaru protested. “I don’t want this at all! My — my memories are private, I don’t want you looking at them like there some sort of anime!”

“Ani— I don’t know what that is, but we can’t just—”

“There has to be another way out, right?! Can’t we do something else?! There’s got to be a way out of here that doesn’t involve—”

“I really don’t think there is,” Reinhard admitted guiltily, fretfully.

“Maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough! Maybe those doors can open— if you push them hard enough—”

“Actually, Reinhard already tried—” Felt started. “Wait, Subaru, that would mean—”

“We can’t leave you in there, I suppose!”

“No, go ahead, leave me in here! I don’t want you rooting around in my head, what sort of sick joke is that?! I’ve done so much embarrassing stuff, and I don’t know wha they’re gonna— whatever it is they wanna show, I don’t want you—!”

“Subaru-dono.”

Wilhelm’s voice was calm and reasonable. Subaru’s eyes darted up at him.

“Every young man has things in their past that they’d rather forget,” the old man said gently. “Especially involving shameful moments, or past embarrassments, or blunders with women. None of those are things that any of us would have room to judge you on.”

“But—” Subaru was still obviously panicked, for understandable reasons.

“Even if you did do something genuinely terrible, at some point in your past —”Wilhelm shook his head. “Subaru-dono, I am a soldier. I can guarantee that I have done far worse in my sixty years of life than you ever could in a mere eighteen. And even if I am somehow proven wrong — we already know the you that exists today. Whatever it is that we see on that metia, I promise you that we will not think less of you.”

“It’s not like we don’t already know that your ability to conduct yourself properly is flawed,” Julius added, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean, our first impression of you made that clear from the start.”

“It is insanely violating and I hate everything about this situation,” Crusch sighed. “But if this is the only way out, then it is the only way out. —And that includes getting YOU out of that jar.”

“I really don’t think anything in yer memories is gonna be all that interesting, Natsuki-kun,” Anastasia drawled, looking bored and inconvenienced. “We’re a bunch o’ soldiers and politicians. Even if ya somehow DID do something genuinely terrible at some point, I can pretty much guarantee that all of us have seen worse. This’ll be unpleasant and humiliating, but then it’ll be over and we can all go home. —Or to the inn, at any rate.”

“I’m GONNYA tease nyew,” Ferris declared. Then his eyes softened, just slightly. “But I won’t judge nya. We’ve all got stuff we don’t want aired out, so if anything really bad nyew did ever comes up, I’ll leave it alone.”

Subaru still looked freaked out. “But—”

“We PROMISE,” Wilhelm assured him. “Whatever it is we see on that metia, we will give you grace.”

“B…But…”

“Subaru.”

It was Emilia who spoke up last. Subaru’s eyes darted towards her.

“I know this is a really uncomfortable situation,” she said. “But I think bearing with it will be best, oh-kay? Let’s get this over with, and then we can go — have fun in Priestella, and forget all about it. Don’t you want to see the canals Otto told us about? And I heard that they had this amazing singer we can go listen to— and some really tasty authentic Kararagian cuisine— and the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get you out of that jar, all of us out of this place, and enjoy the rest of our day!””

Subaru swallowed.

Emilia pressed: “None of us want to hurt you. If anyone tries to use this to do something bad to you, I’ll protect you, oh-kay? I promise I will.”

“As will Betty, in fact,” said Beatrice, who really just wanted Subaru out of his cage as soon as possible.

“You don’t have to worry about anything like that, alright?” Emilia insisted. “We’ll be right with you. We promise, oh-kay?”

After a long moment, Subaru took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Okay then,” he relented, falling back to sit on his knees. “Let’s…get this over with.”

The screen in the front of the room flickered on.

#yeah the whole Trial idea was a good enough motive to handwave why this Might be happening but like.#I felt like I could do better #so I chose a different motive for that weird spirit thing #the new version is now up #enjoy!#my ficlets #now that’s what I call a dogshow

20 notes · View notes