#anyway thank you for this ask I really like it❤️

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it? 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars. 

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words 

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier. 

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile. 

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.” 

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.” 

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station. 

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes. 

“I see London, I see France…” 

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display. 

“Eddie!” 

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple. 

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-” 

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent. 

“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you. 

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side. 

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you. 

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.” 

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?” 

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him. 

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek. 

But that just makes his smile wider. 

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you. 

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door. 

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” 

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?” 

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?” 

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world. 

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone. 

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about. 

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.  

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment. 

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care. 

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you. 

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air. 

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?” 

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand. 

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?” 

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you. 

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.” 

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat. 

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear. 

“Good girl.” 

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie. 

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines. 

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served. 

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes. 

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card. 

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin. 

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out. 

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,” 

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you. 

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?” 

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.” 

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!” 

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.” 

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink. 

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being. 

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully. 

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.” 

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery. 

“Oh princess, you are too cute.” 

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks. 

“What? What is it?” 

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.” 

“What, like, kissing?” 

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.” 

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer. 

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?” 

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar. 

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.” 

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now. 

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together. 

“Liar.” 

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks. 

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?” 

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.” 

“I know that, I mean…” 

For a second he just gapes at you. 

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?” 

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.” 

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?” 

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.” 

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.” 

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand. 

“Please?” 

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment. 

“Fine. Right now.” 

“Oh I didn't-” 

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.” 

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him. 

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely. 

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs. 

For a second you stop in sheer surprise. 

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?” 

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.” 

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified. 

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.” 

“Eddie!” 

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you. 

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside. 

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head. 

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door. 

“No, no, it's very… you.” 

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious. 

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar. 

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-” 

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.” 

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.” 

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway. 

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if- 

“You can sit down, princess.” 

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet. 

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you. 

“No I- I was- maybe this-” 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle. 

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.” 

“But i haven't showered-” 

“When did you last?” 

“Well… this morning.” 

“You're fine. Trust me.” 

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together. 

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart. 

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.” 

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns. 

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?” 

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head. 

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra. 

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?” 

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck. 

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.” 

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.” 

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.” 

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.” 

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair. 

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.” 

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes. 

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip. 

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need. 

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him. 

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?” 

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear. 

“Fuck, look at you.” 

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms. 

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?” 

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him. 

“Say it. You need to say it.” 

‘Yes, please Eddie.” 

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex. 

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.” 

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands. 

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.” 

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture. 

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom. 

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line. 

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real. 

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?” 

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!” 

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure. 

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed. 

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick. 

“You OK princess?” 

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup. 

“Think you can go again?” 

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?” 

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling. 

“I think you've got at least one more in you.” 

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up. 

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.” 

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him. 

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched. 

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do. 

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment. 

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin. 

“So? Good?” 

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden. 

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose. 

“That's not part of the deal.” 

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile. 

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs. 

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.” 

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-” 

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip. 

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.” 

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him. 

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.” 

“You'd probably like that,” you tease. 

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.” 

“Night Eddie.” 

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down? 

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions. 

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything. 

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond. 

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. 

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements. 

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs. 

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example. 

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more. 

It looks like it's going to be a long night. 

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

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.” 

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine. 

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth. 

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table. 

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early. 

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly. 

“Morning, can I help you?” 

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you. 

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile. 

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID? 

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride. 

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?” 

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles. 

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself. 

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting. 

“You're not my 10:30.” 

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong. 

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder. 

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter. 

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.” 

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?” 

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes. 

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves. 

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda. 

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear. 

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.” 

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat. 

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?” 

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension. 

“Hey, keep it at home guys.” 

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip. 

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie. 

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window. 

“So, as I was saying-” 

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red. 

“I was only-” 

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!” 

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally. 

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac. 

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you. 

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest. 

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

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently. 

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest. 

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?” 

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom. 

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-” 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile. 

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out. 

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug. 

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.” 

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Really?” 

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong. 

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.” 

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.” 

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?” 

“Of course I would. You got their number?” 

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William. 

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?” 

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored. 

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.” 

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait. 

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is-  well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.” 

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly. 

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character. 

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?” 

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.” 

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly. 

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.” 

“Eddie I already owe-” 

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!” 

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you. 

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.” 

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.” 

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other. 

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time. 

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!” 

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly. 

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.” 

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.” 

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.” 

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled. 

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately. 

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look. 

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.” 

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening. 

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.” 

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes @tlclick73 @reidsgubbler @siriuslysmoking @keanureevessmile @fhsbsvy @yourdailymemedelivery @aurora-austen @rach5ive @honey-teaaaaaaaa @nina211544 @bbabycass @cactusangie @skrzydlak @took-me-hours-to-steal-those @hereforshmut @nabiiturner @darlingbravebelle @freak-of-hawkins @randomworker @serenadingtigers @1paire2vans @sapphire4082 @xmasterofmunsonx @steamystrangerfics @vol2eddie @storiesbyrhi

[nomazee]

Hello, congratulations on your milestone! 🎉

May I have (for the mix-and-match 😚) Dr.Ratio and the word-concept "bathtub"? 🫢

Take your time! ❤️❤️

this one was fun to write too (as per usual with ratio) i've written for dr ratio so much in the last two weeks i think i am becoming him.... Im slowly morphing into veritas ratio please save me... THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING this was lovely :3

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

“No way. You take bubble baths with a rubber duck?” 

Veritas freezes for no longer than a millisecond before whipping his head around to see you in the doorway of the bathroom. He’d been relaxing just moments ago, sinking into the hot water with his eyes closed, and yes there was a rubber duck in the bath with him but that was not by choice. It just happened to be there when he ran the bath, and he opens his mouth to argue but is quickly cut off by your endless rambling. 

“Anyways, I came to wash your hair. One of your assistants told me you just left in the middle of your usual work hours, and I thought, ‘wow, how odd, the Ratio I know would never do that!’ And then I thought, what better way to cheer my dear friend up than keep him company and wash his hair! It did look a little greasy today.” 

“I am not your dear friend,” he argues mockingly, but the bite in his voice falls short when you circle around the bath and set down your paraphernalia on the tiles next to you (a microfiber hair towel, shampoo, conditioner, some miscellaneous hair foams and sprays that he really does not trust you with). “You are the most insufferable person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Get out of my bathroom.” 

“This is our bathroom now, Ratio. We’re a community, you and me.” 

“It’s ‘you and I.’”

“Exactly! You and I, a community. You’re getting the hang of it now.” 

Veritas sighs, surrendering any potential of a relaxing evening to your whims. This is, unfortunately, how it usually goes, and he has yet to make a real effort to stop it. A voice in the back of his head taunts him because at his core, he has zero desire to stop it at all. 

“Come on,” you keep babbling, threading your fingers roughly through his already-damp hair. It’s not a pleasant sensation at all, and he winces and holds back a pained yelp. “It’s kind of like going to a spa, or whatever. I’m trying to pamper you. Be grateful!” 

“There’s nothing to be grateful about when you’re trying to scalp me,” he could push your hands away easily, bat you off and make you leave. Instead, though, he gives you a minute to tame your inelegant movements into something gentler. He hears the sound of a bottle uncapping, and then your hands are back on his scalp, lathering honey-scented shampoo into the layers of his hair. 

“Is this better?” you ask cheekily, tracing circles in his hair, digging your fingertips in and scratching just a little bit, hard enough to feel it but light enough that it’s still soothing. Veritas sighs through his nose, deep and heavy and sinking back into the water. There’s no mocking retorts, no quips, no sarcastic tone, just the even cycle of his breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. If he tries hard enough, focuses enough, he can hear yours too, but it makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable, unnameable feeling. 

In your bundle of things that you brought, there’s an empty plastic cup, and you use it to scoop water from the tub and rinse the foam from his hair. Veritas feels wholly exposed, for obvious reasons among others, and the urge to kick you out still sits heavy in his chest. Right next to it is a warmth, though, something holding his sensibility hostage, something that finds this more comforting than it would be if he’d sat in the bath until the water went cold, all alone, without your hands washing his hair clean of oil and grime and the weight of his research. 

You break him of his reverie, but the sudden sound of your voice isn’t as intrusive as he anticipated. “You know, you should start using this oil thing for your hair, I got it from one of my coworkers,” by now, his hair is completely rid of any remaining shampoo, and your hands are rubbing a thin layer of conditioner into the ends of each strand, “and it’s supposed to help your hair grow. I think you’d look great with long hair, Veritas, don’t you agree?” 

“What, do you think about that often?” It’s supposed to be something snarky, something to shut you down before you dig too deep, but you never catch the hint—it’s your best and worst quality. 

“Maybe,” you admit, heft in your words, a density that needs to be cut open and examined. He’s good at that—good at looking and prying, but he’s the worst if he’s next to you. You’re nowhere near as thorough of a researcher as him, but he thinks (with a sense of embarrassment) that when the subject is him, you’re the most qualified person around. “Wouldn’t it be nice? With your hair all down to your shoulders, maybe. And if you really think it’s a hassle to take care of, I’ll just do it for you.” 

He’s perfectly capable of taking care of his own hair, thank you very much, but the idea of having you wash it for him, brush out the tangles in it every other day is appealing to a starving man like Veritas. He aches, and the skin at the nape of his neck itches. 

“You’re saying nonsense,” he says, and he can feel the way his brow has tightened and he instinctively goes to chew at the dead skin on his lips. “My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you respond, “just giving you options.” Your hands finally leave his hair, and suddenly the water in the bathtub feels frigid and icy, and Veritas represses a shiver. “Your hair is squeaky clean. Now, get out of the bathroom! It’s my turn to hang out with the rubber duck.” 

“Would you—?!” Veritas turns to glare at you, but the impish grin on his face makes him falter. You’re incorrigible. “The duck isn’t mine! And you have your own bathroom. Stop invading my space.” 

“Sigh,” you say aloud, because you’re corny and theatrics are written into every part of your personality. “Oh, grandest Ratio, I really did think we were friends, but you wound me so deeply! All this time has meant nothing to you! All this new shampoo that I bought just for you, gone to waste…” 

“For gods’ sake,” he mutters, reaching for a set of pajamas that you’d so conveniently taken from his own dressers and brought with you while on your mission to wash his hair. “Turn around so I can get dressed and then you can use the bathroom. So annoying.” 

“Not annoying enough to kick me out, though,” you say, and you’re completely right, and Veritas will admit that one day, but certainly not today.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @hanyi-writes

[fiveredlights]

I saw you mentioned you liked kid fic and had bookmarks— do you have any reccs for maxiel kid fics?❤️❤️

do i ever!!!! one thing about me is that i will eat kid fics up, like i think i’ve read about all the tagged kid fics in the maxiel tag. i love seeing what names authors choose for their children and it just makes me happy. here's a couple and if you want more lmk!

listen to the slow parts by @nobrakesdown [T-7.2k]

Neither Max or Daniel are the one to find the baby. That honor belongs to Christian, and Christian alone.

a lil you, a lil me, a perfect being by 3_33 (@maxcuntstappen) [G-4.8k]

The three of them stand outside, looking at the entrance, August in the middle, clutching tightly onto Max and Daniel’s hands.

“Okay, I need you both to repeat after me.”

“Daniel, we already did this in the car. Can we please just go in?” Max asks, desperately, which only confirms to Daniel the need to remind all of them of the ground rules.

“Baby, please. We need to remember, okay? We are here to meet some new friends and play with them. It is okay if we don’t meet anybody we like. We can always come again. There is no need for us to be upset. Yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy,” August says and drops his hand to give Daniel a mock salute and Daniel really didn’t know he could love someone so much.

“Max,” Daniel implores, knowing that it is as important that his husband acknowledges the plan as much as their kid.

“Yes, yes, Daniel, okay,” Max rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Daniel says. The three of them walk in through the doors.

Or: Daniel and Max visit an animal shelter for their son, August's fourth birthday. Daniel is apprehensive. Max and August are vibrating out of their skin.

That's Where I Am by @flawlessassholes [E-47.8k-6/8]

“Her name is Emily,” Daniel says softly. Max’s eyes snap down to the baby, still sleeping on Daniel’s chest. It’s—she’s snoring a little. In that snuffly way that babies snore. “Short for Emilian.” His eyes snap back to Daniel’s face, so serious, and Max knows it’s a joke, of course, but he still opens his mouth to say— Then Daniel’s face breaks into that wide grin, the real one, the one Max hasn’t seen since. Well. In a while. It feels at once so familiar, and also like seeing something rise from the dead.

There’s a month between Melbourne and Baku. A month to convince Daniel to return to racing. A month to learn and relearn how to love. A month for everything to feel right amidst a season that has felt nothing but wrong. A month to create a family, and a month to maybe lose it all.

keep me in the open by Aurelia (Lily_Rizzy) (@lilyrizzy) [E-11.7k]

"Chrissy Baker sounds like a cunt,” Daniel says, then cringes at the pointed look his mum shoots him. “What? It’s not like they’re old enough to repeat that yet.”

Grace laughs, the sound audible now over Livia’s cries, which are quickly fading into miserable whimpers. Of course, she behaves for grandma, and not the dad who dotes on her endlessly, feeds her, cuddles her, and wipes her smelly ass.

“Three words, Daniel,” she says, eyebrows raised. “Cash, money, bitches.”

or, Daniel navigates bed times, bath times and jealousy, while Max races his last season in Formula One

summer sun after the rain by gentleau [T-11.7k]

“Papà? Is Max your friend?” “He used to be.”

then you came by beforemidnight [G-4.5k]

Daniel looks at Max swiftly but pointedly. Smiling, he looks back at the camera. “Marrying him was the easiest decision of my life.”

(don't let) the days go by citydreaming (@thewindowatkirkland) [M-11.3k]

“Hey” Daniel says “thanks for coming over.”

“Is now a good time? If you are busy I can come back later.”

“Now is fine, she’s already asleep so we should be able to talk without being interrupted.”

“Talk about how you have a daughter.”

Daniel bites his lip nervously “yeah, about that.”

OR: single dad daniel returns to the grid for one final year with red bull, max doesn’t plan on falling in love with him and his daughter, but somehow it happens anyway.

[soliloquent-stark]

Hi!! I saw you do fic recommendations for Avengers fanfic! The post that I saw is a year old, so if you don’t do that anymore, then I completely understand.

HOWEVER, if you do still do fic recs could you be so kind as to lend me a hand? I am looking for Stony fics, but I really despised the Civil War arc that went on in MCU (I grew up with the Avengers Assemble tv show so found family in the Marvel universe is pretty much my lifeblood).

Anyway, I’m looking for works that specifically recognize that Steve is more than kind of traumatized by the fact that he can never go home and hasn’t adjusted to modern living as well as everyone thought. (I think I’m just a sucker for Steve being in emotional pain). I read a few on AO3, but if there’s a wealth to be found, then I’m missing it by a mile. Are there any that you would recommend? (They don’t have to be Stony either).

Thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day!!

hey there!!! thank you for your patience with this request, i was on vacation when you sent it. :) i don't make rec lists as often as i'd like, but i'm definitely still into them, so i'm happy you asked! it sounds like you're looking for fics about steve adjusting to the future, and i believe i've found some good ones for you, with various levels of angst. spoiler: they're all stony. ❤️

steve rogers and the 21st century fic recs (stevetony)

gen/teen:

temporary configuration of disrupted stars by picturecat (@snoozingcat)

wildfires in the spring by @meidui 

all warm-blooded creatures by nanasekei

we’ll live in spaces between walls by soliloquent

if i could tell him by @parkrstark

Steve Rogers: Undercover Robosexual by jellybeanforest 

Cicada Days by Captain_Panda

explicit/mature:

A Partial Dictionary Of The 21st Century By Captain Steve Rogers, US Army by @copperbadge

Falling For You (Hook, Line, and Sinker) by @festiveferret

and time can do so much by @robertdowneyjjr

Safe Haven by @gottalovev, @snowzapped

Harlem Shake (I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me) by theladyingrey42

Even My Phone Misses Your Call by rainbowninja167

please read the tags as there's a mixed bag of themes in there, and don't forget to kudos (and leave a comment if you can) <3

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Dunno if you’ve already done this and you don’t have to, but how about m!greaser casually giving the gang + Shepard siblings the ultimate princess treatment??

I’m talking like MAJOR princess treatment. Holding doors without asking, popping off beer caps, lighting cigs with his own lighter, bridal-carrying them away from a rumble when they’re hurt, etc etc. m!greaser isn’t even teasing abt it too, he’s genuinely just a whole ass gentleman

Of course anon!!! I love this request 🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️

Ponyboy Curtis

-he’s surprised whenever you start treating him like damn royalty

-honored but surprised

-he loves the treatment he gets from you

-he always makes sure to say thank you

-he loves leaning on your shoulder when you carry him back from getting hurt

-he reads you stories that you fall asleep to as a way of saying thanks

-the other greasers tease him so hard about it tho

-he would do the same things for you that you do for him (:

Johnny Cade

-wow

-he’s like so not used to people treating him with baseline kindness or respect

-so you goin get extra more to do these things

-to light his cigarette, always make sure he has a place to stay for the night, bridal carry him at the slightest injury

-he’s pretty grateful

-also gets pretty flustered whenever you do it

-always says a quiet, “thank you” with a tiny smile

Sodapop Curtis

-he’s often overlooked as the middle Curtis sibling

-and he’s really only used to people doing things for him

-well, because he’s pretty. He has pretty privilege and he knows that

-and whenever you do these things for him

-just because he’s sodapop

-it’s what makes him give you genuine grins

-not his fake, charming demeanor that he so often carries

-but a genuine smile is what you bring to his face when you do these things

-and he’ll kiss your cheek 😊

Darry Curtis

-he does the same thing tbh

-most gentlemanly out of all of them

-you two are so mutually so sweet to each other

-but it backfires sometimes because you both want to do the same nice things for each other

-probably the most stable couple

-I really ship yall personally

-you guys would spend like 45 minutes fighting over who pays the bill at dates though 💀💀

Dallas Winston

-the least gentlemanly

-bro just does not think about much other than his own surroundings

-💀💀

-but he would definitely smirk whenever you do those things for him

-“Well ain’t you a doll, y/n?”

-that’s kinda the most thanks you’ll get 💀

-deep down he’s grateful but it takes him MONTHS of dating for him to even mutter thanks

-would not let you carry him though

-his egos too heavy anyway 😔

Two Bit Mathews

-he’d make jokes

-it’s two bit what do you expect

-but like jokes of affection

-really cheesy

-If you lit his cigarette “Y’know what else you set on fire? My heart.”

-if you carried him “Givin’ me a preview of the wedding hm? I see you…”

-and ur like two bit you literally broke your ankle

-but he’s actually really grateful whenever you do those things for him

-🫶

Steve Randle

-he would act nonchalant about it

-but he would totally care

-and brag to Sodapop about you and all you do for him

-and would try to kind of pay you back by spending his free time always upgrading or working on your car

-but he still mutters thank you to you

-but shows his full gratitude in other ways

Tim Shepard

-he’s absolutely not used to this

-he’s pretty smug whenever you do it though

-and definitely shows you off for it

Curly Shepard

-he would definitely be smug in a similar way to him

-like heh yeah my baby treats me like a goddamn king

-he would kiss you in front of anyone every time you do something for him

Angela Shepard

-she’s so cute

-she’s so grateful because most of the guys she’s dated have been dicks to her

-and when you come along and treat her like a princess she wants to cry tbh

-she gives you so many hugs n kisses

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

i have a request! + a little bit of a ranting because i love talking about this game (if you don't want to see the long rant you can skip to the two last paragraphs with the actual request :3)

ok so, i played SDV multiple times (although i never did the 100% challenge, i played at least 9 to 10 different saves), and i noticed that, throughout the entire game, the farmer's parents only send 4 letters for them, and for you to even receive said letters, you need to obtain certain amount of gold. plus, another detail is that only one of the parents will send you a letter (depending of the gender option you chose in-game), while the other one is never mentioned even once.

additionally, i also found interesting how, whenever Harvey mentions having to do "an emergency surgery" on the player, the parents never even send a letter mentioning it or anything. i would assume that for something as serious as a surgery, a family member would be contacted in case anything went south, but that never seemed to be the case. you simply wake up from the surgery, go home, sleep, and your parents never even show sign of being alive.

i know Eric most likely did this to 1. keep the past of the farmer as vague as possible for people who enjoy creating OCs/sonas to not have to ignore canon details, and 2. in regards of the letters, to reward the player for reaching x milestone. however, my little brain could not help but assume that the reason the farmer barely receives any letters from their parents (and when they do it's only from one of them) it's because they bought some heavy mommy/daddy issues™ baggage with them to the valley.

and that's where my request comes from: how would the older villagers (preferably those with no children and/or spouses, like Gus, Marlon, Willy, Linus, etc) react to the farmer accidentally calling them mom/dad, because the farmer views them as the parental figure they wish they had in their life? would it be awkward? would they be flattered? would they comfort the farmer? i NEED to know.

additionally, i would prefer if you could make it a mixture of angst and fluff. plus, you can choose any villager you want, i just ask you to include Willy, since he's the one that i made a father/child relationship with my OC and who inspired this request in the first place.

thank you, hope it wasn't too much!!! and take care :3

I have to say, when I first played the very first save, I was also interested in the fact that only one parent sent letters, and even the letter itself didn't say "me and your mom/dad are proud of you", but just "I'm proud of you, with love dad/mom). Then the letters stopped coming altogether. My first guess and failed headcanon for my OC is that Farmer only had one parent (the other parent abandon family/dead), and when the letters stopped coming, the other parent passed away as well. And then I thought it was a pretty dark headcanon and scrapped the idea. Don't want too much angst, nope!

I really like this ask, because in my opinion, even if Farmer has living and loving parents, they will still see some people in Stardew Valley as a parental figure, because Farmer's family is far away.

I hope you enjoy the stories, I tried to make them both sad and fluffy at the same time. Thanks for ask and enjoy! ❤️

Willy, Marlon, Linus and Gil react to Farmer calling them dad.

Willy:

Amazement, laughter and pride is what Willy felt as Farmer very emotionally showed how they caught the Legendary fish in the mountain lake, not forgetting to gesticulate. They and Willy were sitting on the docks on a late summer night when, a little tired from fishing, they began to tell each other their fishing stories over a bottle of mead.

"That fish almost tore the fishing line, but I still managed to pull it out. I swore and puffed, but I pulled it out! It was huge!" The farmer summarized his story.

"What a fisherman! Well done, lad/lass!" The old fisherman's heart rejoiced that young people were still interested in fishing.

"Thanks, Dad!" The Farmer quickly said the last phrase on emotion, but their smile quickly slipped and they slapped themselves on the mouth. Willy also sat silent, a little surprised at the last word. Dad... The sea wolf had his heart broken more than once in his youth, and he had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never hear that word. He wasn't sad, for fishing did bring him happiness. And still...

"Sorry, that was... Ugh, I didn't mean to-" The Farmer was already trying to get out of the awkward situation, except that they felt the old sailor's hand on their shoulder, Willy's eyes looking at them with pride and warmth.

"You're welcome, son/daughter. I'm really proud of you". Never did Willy think he could say such words, the words of a proud parent for his growing child. Willy did not have a wife or children, so he could not feel the pain of loss from something he never had. And yet, after that word, he felt as if a stone had been lifted from his shoulders, and a warmth flooded into the old sailor's heart when the Farmer, crying, hugged him back after his words.

Marlon:

"Kid!"

"I'm fine!" The Farmer's voice came up from the bottom floor of the mine, letting Marlon know that they weren't under a rubble pile of rocks or in a nest of monsters. After a moment, Farmer was able to climb out of the hole in the floor on their own, unharmed, just a couple of scratches and with dirt.

Seeing that the Farmer was standing on their feet and unharmed, Marlon sighed in relief. But immediately, anger filled the old one-eyed adventurer's chest. Using a mega bomb on slimes - how did they even think of this!? The uppermost levels of the mines can collapse from a not too strong explosion, and then there's explosives of such power!

"Things went a little off plan, but we still destroyed those slimes. I call it success," the Farmer didn't have time to finish, as Marlon walked up to them quickly and gave them a not too strong, but quite painful smack upside the head. The Farmer immediately writhed in discomfort.

"Ouch! Why?"

"What were you thinking!?" It was the first time the Farmer saw Marlon so angry, the one-eyed monster hunter rarely lost his temper, "Have you lost your mind? Using a bomb, here! You could have died under that rubble!"

"But I-" Marlon interrupted Farmer again, raising his hand in a gesture.

"We have to think about every step we make in a fight, and what did you do?" Marlon was already speaking more calmly, but his tone remained the same steely. The Farmer had already feel ashamed and regretted their careless decision.

Yet, when Marlon calmed down and scolded the Farmer, taking their word that they would never act so recklessly again, the elder adventurer offered to return to their Guild, since it was getting dark. The Farmer breathed a sigh of relief, and on the exhale they said: "You're such a dad..."

Marlon stopped after that, turning to face the Farmer, who seemed to be surprised at their own words. And Marlon himself was surprised at how he snapped at the shout: he knows that the life of an adventurer is a constant risk, but Farmer had become a close person to him to let them risk their lives so recklessly. Just like... Just like his own child. And then they call him dad...

After Farmer's words, the one-eyed adventurer hummed playfully:

"In that cases, I, as a 'dad', officially declare to you: once again you use a mega bomb at the first levels, or do another stupid act, and I will flog you with a belt so that you won't be able to sit for a week, let alone swing a sword", Marlon is unlikely to ever carry out his threat, but he must make it clear to the Farmer that he is not joking.

"Ok, ok! I won't do it again! Sheesh...", Not wanting to argue with their mentor any further, the Farmer quickly followed Marlon to the exit of the mines. Before they left the cave, Marlon put a hand on their shoulder.

"Stay vigilant, adventurer. I've lost many people dear to me to let this happen again..."

Linus:

Linus hadn't noticed that the Farmer had managed to doze off by the camping fire. After all, a hearty supper of fried mushrooms had put the Farmers to sleep and made them fall into the realm of dreams. Early fall had already rewarded the Stardew Valley with cool nights, and so Linus decided to wake the Farmer so they could head to their warm home. The task was not an easy one: besides the delicious food, the Farmer had been very tired lately, and so he slept like a dead man.

"Get up, my friend, it's time for you to go home," alas, all of Linus' efforts were unsuccessful, and then stopped altogether when Farmer sleepily said: "Dad, please, five more minutes..."

"...Dad?"

Linus heard many words for himself: homeless, crazy, wild man, freak, stinker, weirdo. But Dad...?

While Linus was processing the information, Farmer had already managed to fall back into a deep sleep. The wild man decided to let Farmer finish his sleep in peace here near his tent. He took out a warm blanket from the tent, which he had made himself from fur, and covered Farmer, who was shivering a little from the cold night.

"Sweet dreams, my child", Linus had never thought that Fate would let him consider someone his child and pass on his wisdom, even if they were not related by blood. He made a promise to himself to always keep an eye on this kid and to help them in any way he could, whether by advice or deed.

Gil:

The knocking of stone against stone. Bang. And another ban

Another failure.

"Ah, damn it..." The Farmer cursed, throwing two geodes at their feet.

"Try it again, kid, you'll learn in time. See, you do it like this..." Gil again demonstrates how to open the geodes by himself, without Clint's hammer. With movements that had been honed over the years, he again held two halves of a split geode in his hands, from which amethyst and rock crystal druzes glistened.

"You didn't get into farming the first time either, yeah? You told me yourself, kiddo". Gil was absolutely right - to achieve a prosperous farm, the young Farmer had to work really hard, and success did not come immediately. So Farmer, sighing tiredly, took the geodes in their hands again in an attempt to open the mineral. Knock, knock, knock.

Crash.... Pop.

It worked!

"Told ya, kid", Gil smiled at the excited Farmer, who, twisting the two halves of the open geode, couldn't believe their own eyes.

"Yo, I finally did it! Thanks, Papa!"

It took the Farmer about ten seconds to realize what they had just said. Their cheeks flushed. Oh...

Gil, on the other hand, was quite ok to such a word in his address. In fact, he did not even miss the opportunity to tease the young adventurer a little.

"Papa, huh?" Though deep down Gil was touched by the fact that he had become this kind of father figure to Farmer, he wouldn't miss the opportunity to have a little fun. Especially since he knows that Farmer, though embarrassed by their confession, will also catch Gil's mood.

And the old adventurer is not mistaken.

"Well, should I call you mom then?" The Farmer was not in debt, deciding to play along with Gil as well.

"And that's how you talk to your papa, kid?" Gil rewarded the Farmer with a playful slap on their shoulder, "Come on, get outside. There's a whole bag of geodes lying by the supply boxes. Bring it over here and we'll practice some more," Farmer nodded and ran merrily toward the Guild exit, almost hitting Marlon, who was just entering the building.

The one-eyed adventurer, seeing his cheerful friend (it was rare to find Gil in such a good mood):

"Did something happen while I was gone?" Marlon hummed favorably and waited for Gil to stop snickering and calm down.

"You can congratulate me, brother," Gil said, "I just became a dad."

[shuploc]

Have you ever drawn woman? Id love to see some in your style!

LMAO, I have, but yeah, not really as much as I've drawn guys. As I mentioned in the previous ask, I just really love striking, prominent features, and women tend to be a lot more polished and round and... idk, perfect, in a way. How I draw is very messy and sketchy, and when I draw women, those sketchy lines tends to just make them look old...

If I could live off of just drawing whatever my heart desires, I would have been drawing way more women too. But everything I post online is made in my free-time, so I just draw whatever I'm most obsessed with at the time. And that just tends to be men 😅

[wantbytaemin]

happy bday to my number one guy, king of my heart and the true big boss, M @linoguy 💖🤎

[natsmagi]

user natsmagi have u ever tried getting into d4dj...... ? plesae. i got this random thought in the shower a few days ago and im DYING the d4dj fandom needs more artists THEY HAVE CANON LESBIANS PLEASE

OHHHHH I HAVE ACTUALLY PLAYED D4DJ!!! ive never looked into any of the characters though and i dont know anything about the story...!! iirc doesnt the cast feature college aged characters?? bc i feel that demographic doesnt get tackled very often so thatd be very interesting to see!

TBH ive been thinking of occasionally just drawing one big collage of various characters i enjoy outside of enstars (but im lazy and the brainrot is like SO severe) BUT WHO KNOWS!! IF I DO DECIDE TO DO IT MAYBE ILL PICK A D4DJ GIRL I THINK IS CUTE!!! OR MAYBE THE LESBIANS BC GOD KNOWS THEY DESERVE TO BE SEEN!!!

[butterfliesornauseous]

So I realised I hit way over 500 followers and just wanted to say a quick thanks for all the support over the last two years! Especially since I have a tendency to take unexplained breaks, so it really means that a lot of you have stuck around.

I wanted to say this means a lot to me since you guys have helped me truly feel much better for being into what I am into and making me feel more inspired to continue. I’m so thankful that I have a bit of a platform where I can share my silly little ideas and feel welcomed and even hear back from you guys about your own ideas all because of you guys.

I want to do a little 500 special but haven’t fully settled in something yet but I have 2 weeks off from it being a break at my work so I’ll try to work on something 😁

Thank you all again for the support ~ Kai ❤️

[helpimhyperfixating]

mertaro would find it easier to crawl on the smooth floors of y/n's house than the sandy beach. the mer pups probably would too

They don’t actually 🫢

Mer are accustomed to the water and the beach. That’s where they naturally spend time. Out in nature and all

The sand of the beach give Mer traction for their arms, which allows them to pull themselves forward.

On smooth floors, it’s a lot harder. It’s easier to glide on, yes, but that is under the circumstance that said Mer is being pushed or has something else to push off of like a doorway or furniture piece (that is stable enough). They can’t get enough traction on smooth floors to pull their large tails. Especially if they’re damp/wet, which they are (should be) 24/7

[saintedbythestorm]

Now I'm super curious and want to know about that hyperfixation of yours 😀

That's so sweet of you ❤️, but it really is just my on-going hyperfixation with the fallout franchise again. 😅 (and in this case more specifically fallout new vegas, my beloved).

See, Hoover Dam is a central point for that games whole story and I guess I always found it a little funny that thing survived a nuclear war? But like after that post, how they expect it to be one of our remaining structures, it just... suddenly made a bit more sense.

And me with a very bad case of 3 am brain™ was absolutely mind blown and losing my shit and was about to freak out in the tags. Clearly managed to chill out a bit at the last second but yeah...

That was rather silly of me. 😅

[le-velo-pour-dru]

ermmmmmm dru yr literally the nicest EVER literally the dallon girlie of the century yr sooo super duper cool n silly def make the top five mutual list… i hope u feel better!!! lowkey we twinnin af october been a weirdddd month. feel better tho!!!!!!!!!

THIS MATTERS SO MUCH TO ME OMG??????????? 🥺💖 AUGHHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭🩷 This is such an incredibly sweet ask omgggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! "Dallon girlie of the century" is like- the highest compliment I could receive, oh my goodness 🤭🩷 I'm soooooooo honored that you think I'm cool, and it makes me so happy to know that you think I'm nice and silly!! :3 🩷 This month hasn't been too bad for me, but this week has been... OOF it's been rough so far, so I really hope things get better for both of us 🫶❤️

[semercury]

Had a realization today. I think one of the reasons a certain video game never interested me (aside from the reliance on jump scares) is the fact that it. It is Checking. Just the constant back and forth searching for some change, some sign of danger, breathing a sigh of relief when things are still standing, apprehension at any change but also searching for signs of a pattern and getting freaked out when the pattern is broken. Flipping back and forth and back and forth checking and checking and checking and checking and

And I do that irl already and feel such anxiety. Only the thing I'm scared of is someone I love dying instead of being mauled by a possessed animatronic.

[zeroducks-2]

hi!! heard u were looking for sladick recs lol so here is one that i think you'll enjoy: The Nightwing Protocol by PurpleSoot which is wonderfully long, well written and the kind of fic that alters your brain chemistry

Guysss I love you thank you sm for all your suggestions but please stop recommending Nightwing Protocol :'D no offense but I really didn't like it all that much, and I would very much rather if you pushed your own fic or anyway a fic without that many clicks, but that you think is an undiscovered gem.

Not to say that I'm not grateful though ❤️❤️ I really appreciate you took the time to think about a fic you like and write me an ask with it ❤️❤️❤️

[shuploc]

What is the most challenging thing when drawing characters realistically? Also who would you say is/would be difficult to draw

The most challenging thing when drawing stylized characters realistically is being able to put a piece together so it looks convincing. Adding details and such is fine, you can go pretty far just with the right brush, but having it all come together to make something that at first glance looks like an actual photo, and it still looks like the character; that's very difficult. Stuff like lighting, colors, setting, character's expression, and obviously the characters design. It all has to go together.

And in terms of who's hard to draw and who's not, Miguel is super hard to draw ngl, but that's just me. In general though, characters with a lot of hair that needs to be realistically rendered and be in the right lighting and such; my god. That is INSANELY difficult (Hobie Brown, lmao). Also, if a character is too stylized, to the point where their design can't be directly translated to realism, that's super difficult to work with as well, if not impossible. You end up having to change so much about their icon design that it can end up not even resembling them at all. Like, for instance, how would you draw a realistic Mickey Mouse?...

I don't think I've had an easy time drawing anyone really, but again, characters that are closer to realism in their design/proportions (like, Spiderverse or Arcane) are much easier to draw than anything cartoony. But thank you so much for the ask, I hope this answered everything! 😊