#but its been sitting in my drafts too long and i think i finished fucking with it.

[khonshuscondemned]

YOU KNOW THAT HE WOULD BEAR THE WORLD LIKE ATLAS UNTIL HIS SHOULDERS COLLAPSE AND HIS KNEES BUCKLE AND HE IS CRUSHED BY ALL HE USED TO CARRY

                                         - @pencap-poetry​

in my mind, this takes place a little while after the last episode, when everything has settled somewhat back into routine. tonight’s jake’s first night back on the job (being a single income household wasn’t anything new.. and neither was the omnipotent presence lurking over his shoulder).

Khonshu rouses him in the early hours before daybreak, when the moon’s light is still full and the sky is still scattered with stars and not another soul is awake.  (More specifically, two souls slumber on, peacefully unaware of their unusually usual nightly routine.)  There’s no need for hellos, no time to exchange pleasantries (if those sorts of things existed in Jake Lockley’s little infinitely-spaced nut shell of a life), and Khonshu has never been one to enjoy the facsimile of familiarity that follows small-talk.  With the apartment keys tucked into his coat pocket alongside a silver cigarette case and a lighter, in silence the pair embark.  If it weren’t for the fact that he was accompanied by an ancient, lurking and lumbering god, his night could almost be considered peaceful.

 ‘Your work in Cairo is unfinished, wouldn’t you agree, Jake Lockley?’

 Alas, silence rarely lasts.  The weary god’s rumbling tones are somewhat muted, echoing eerily in the abandoned alleyway as his avatar strolls quickly over the tatterdemalion cobblestone, head down and adjusting his cap as he listens with a guarded expression (ever vigilant, unremitting in his wary watchfulness).  Somewhere nearby, a cricket chirps, but other than that the world is drowsy and still and there is no one to act as witness to a lonely deity and a lonelier devotee. 

‘I assume you recall the two officers that discovered your whereabouts in London…  Or rather, the worm’s whereabouts.’  The old god says, his voice reverberant, and Jake’s spine stiffens to attention at the mention of Steven, his posture straining rigidly as he carefully withdraws a pair of dark gloves.  He nods wordlessly even as Khonshu drawls on, the fine fabric creaking slightly in his grip.  ‘They are attempting to regroup, to unify once more behind Ammit.  Though the loss of Harrow weakened their cause, our true message, it seemed, was unclear.’

At this, Jake stops, freezing in place, brows creasing.  Khonshu halts as well, turning those empty eye sockets onto the one third of his avatar he still has access to. 

‘Harrow is dead.’  Khonshu booms, and the solitary flickering streetlight above pops with a spray of electric white sparks in a spasmodic display of seraphics.   ‘We saw to his end ourselves.  Now, Ammit is no more.  Already there have been massacres and innocence lost, the culling begun- if necessary, you will paint our message ever-more clearly in the condemned blood of the guilty.  There will be no mercy, this time.’

Something  fearsome, dark and angry unfurls deep inside the damned man at the god’s word choice, (this hatred that blazes inside of him haunts him like a shadow, twisting sharper with every inhale, poisoning his lungs with every exhale. he holds his breath-), his previously expressionless features briefly darkening in the dimly lit alley, and he ducks his head, casting his eyes further into obscurity beneath his cap.  For a moment, the world is silent once more.  Tense.  For a moment, Jake Lockley is quiet, and then-

‘¿Esta vez?’

It’s hissed, spat, muffling a snort of derision and masking it with something that could potentially be passed off as a cough.  Jake Lockley turns to face the arrogant deity who would- who will, most likely, be his own downfall.  He levels a thundering glare on the old bird and his lips part as though there are words right at the tip of his tongue.  

Silence.

Though Khonshu waits, his avatar does not speak.  His avatar breathes in trembling breaths- his avatar stands with fists tightly clenched- his avatar holds his stare and does not look away.  Dipping his rugged beak, the god regards his devotee, intently surveying the inner battle one Jake Lockley is locked in, and chortles a quiet, mirthless sort of laugh.  The other two sleep on- and the broken man he has currently chosen to act as his Less-Than-Righteous Left Hand is losing a war in his own mind, against no other voice besides the one he’s given to himself.  The fact that his rage has been sparked to a blazing inferno with so few words only elongates the old bird’s pitiless cackle- of course he would take offence at the idea that not enough blood had flowed freely like crimson-copper rivlets-

‘Oh, come now, Jake Lockley.  There is always a time, and a place for exceptions.  Surely…’  Khonshu rumbles, and his laughter turns cruel.  The Left Hand’s steady gaze finally falters, shoulders hunching and shifting, as though reminded of an old wound, older guilt.  The Ancient God continues again as though he had not taken great care of just where to aim his wordly blows so they struck deep and true.  ‘Surely even you might understand the concept of mercy, though you have not known much of it!’ 

It takes a moment for the god’s merriment to settle, for old bones to stop rattling, and Jake seethes inwardly, jaw clenching against those words that are piling up behind his teeth like an intersection accident.  He bites down on them, refusing to let a single one escape.  Khonshu’s faint guffaws are the only sound now, the crickets long since ceasing their nightly song at the presence of such an empyrean threat as a laughing god- and Jake screws his features up more tightly- there is no humour he can find in anything that has been said, not here.  Just like there is no mercy.  (he does find copper on his tongue from where he has bitten into the tip).   Not for the damned.

The laughter stops, suddenly, and the night air seems to swell and fester in his lungs until his ribs creak under the pressure, like the entire world around him is holding its breath as well. 

‘You are to put an end to this culling.’

Overhead, the moon is bright and full.

‘This is the true end of Ammit’s story, Jake Lockley, and it is you who must finish it.’

His gloved hands tremble. You would have me drown in the blood I’ve spilt.

[nickfowlerrr]

your forever is all that i need.

pairing: max burnett x curvy!reader

warnings: angst! smut! some fluff! 18+ ONLY. kinda soft!dark max if you squint. warnings not exhaustive but if something needs to be tagged, pls lmk!

words: 7.8k

notes: this guy has been sitting in my drafts waiting to be finished for months and i finally got it done. i think i like it 🥲 i hope you will, too! please let me know what you think. 🖤

thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated.

You keep your head down, the baseball cap you’re wearing pulled low to aid your attempt at keeping your face concealed. The duffel bag you keep a tight grip on swings slightly with each step you take down the long, empty hallway of the apartment complex.

You reach the door leading to the stairwell and make your way down the steps until you finally get to ground level.

Pushing the lone metal door open ever so slightly, you peek out and make sure you’re still in the clear. No one's around. You walk through and head straight for the gate that leads you out to the parking garage.

You can feel your heart racing, your adrenaline pumping as you cross the lot. Lines of cars, but not another soul in sight.

You get the urge to look back over your shoulder as you walk but you fight against it and keep on to the car.

You’ve missed his call twice already and you just need to get out of the city before you can muster up the courage to call him back..

You unlock the doors with the click of a button as you approach. Your eyes leave the car for maybe two seconds as you pass a large cement pillar, looking down to fish your phone out of the deep pocket of your coat.

There’s a blur in your peripheral. 

You look back up, your heart seizes in your chest, and you gasp as you halt in your path. 

You suddenly find yourself mere inches from him as he stands before you, his gaze harsh as he stares daggers into you. 

His jaw is set, eyes dark as you do nothing but stare back stupidly. Where did he come from?

"Fuck, Max," you say with a heavy breath, "you scared the hell outta me."

You try and calm yourself, playing it cool. You wait for him to respond, to say something, but he doesn't. The pit in your stomach only grows deeper at his silence.

You lift your phone in your hand, doing a show of waving it at him, "I was just about to call you," you lie effortlessly.

Still, he says nothing. Eyes narrowing as he takes you in, his gaze falling to the bag in your hand.

You swallow your nerves, praying he doesn't notice, as you step to him. His hands are in his pockets as he stands tall, still looking down at your own. Your gaze is set on him, not for a second straying from his face as you stand before him, nearly pressing yourself against him; trying to search his eyes, urging him to meet your own.

When he finally does, a shiver runs down your spine, though you're not sure of its cause. 

Fear, worry, or maybe just the proximity to him that you hadn't had in a while.

Maybe something else...

His eyes are nearly black with how blown out his pupils are and the intensity of his gaze has you even more taken aback than you were a moment ago.

You can't let it show, though.

"Hi," you draw out, brows raised in faux confusion. As if you have no idea why he's acting so off. But of course you do. 

He must know. 

God, of course he knows. 

But he hasn’t said anything. So still, you keep up the charade. 

You drop the duffle lightly and wrap your arms around him as you look up at him. You're so close, so much so that you couldn't possibly get any closer - but that doesn't stop you from trying as you lean up on your tiptoes, chin tilted upward with a delicate pout playing on your lips.

He eyes you, his hands still in his pockets as he does nothing but watch.

You brush your lips against his softly, not expecting him to kiss back - and he doesn't - but he doesn't stop you, either.

You deflate, despite the expectedness of his lack of response, and let your feet meet the ground again as you tilt your head innocently at him, arms still wrapped around him.

"Max," you scoff lightly, a hint of a question in your tone. "Hey, I'm sorry I missed your call, but I really was just about to call you back," you try to defend yourself.

He stares for another unnerving moment before finally he responds,

"Calls," he corrects harshly. "Plural."

Your lips part as if you're going to speak, but you don't. Instead, you pull away from him, your brows furrowing. You let your eyes scan over his face, trying to assess him.

"Why does that sound accusatory?" you ask, letting your taken offense be known.

"What's in the bag?" he asks sharply, ignoring your question.

You stare one another down for a long moment. The thundering of your heart only grows louder in your ears as you do.

You were nervous before, scared more of what you were planning than of what his reaction would be to it. You didn’t want to tell him face to face, not because you thought he’d be truly upset but because you knew you’d back out if given the chance - whether Max cared or not.

But he was here now. 

And he's upset?

If he knows, then is this him trying to… stop you? 

If it is, great. 

You're fucked.

Your plan is completely and totally fucked. 

All of this, or at least the courage you had to attempt it, hinged on the fact that you wouldn’t have to see him, to be this close to him, again.

Your willpower around Max was near nothing and you knew that. 

Maybe you could just take your bag and go. Would he really try all that hard to keep you here? You doubted it.

You both move in the same instant, but he's faster. 

As you were reaching to grab the bag, Max planted a heavy foot on it, keeping it on the ground and out of your hands.

Your eyes dart from his shoe back up to his face. You take a deep breath as you stand straight and keep his gaze.

Well damn. It’s starting to seem like he cares.

But still, you need to get out, you remind yourself. 

You can work this. There's always a way out.

You aren't thinking a plan through, not fully, you just start talking. It’s instinct. Stay in character. Never give yourself away.

He taught you that.

"I was just gonna open it for you," you say, aggrieved.

You stay still as he slowly reaches down to grab the duffle himself, his eyes never leaving you.

You watch him right back, refusing to let your discontent show.

All that’s in there is what little personal belongings and clothes you have. It doesn’t mean or prove anything. Can’t confirm or deny whatever it is he thinks you were planning on doing.

And maybe, well maybe you don’t have to go… You can just pretend this never happened. Prove him wrong and keep up like you had no intention to leave in the first place.

Fuck, it hasn’t been a minute and you’re losing it already.

"Well," you prompt him, "open it."

He considers you and you take note of the way he grips the bag in his hand, his knuckles nearly white, his hand is clenched so hard. 

"Go to the car."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his command and move to walk to your car before his voice stops you.

"No," he grits out, "my car."

You look over in the direction he motions toward and see it, the sleek black Benz you somehow missed is parked across the way, but still on. You glance back to Max and he's already walking to it. You know you don't have a choice, not really, so you follow.

He throws your bag into the back and suddenly turns on you when you get closer, stopping you from rounding the car to get in on the passenger side.

You find your back pressed up against the vehicle as he closes in on you, jolting you a bit as he pushes you back, stealing the air from your lungs. He rips the hat off your head and throws it on the ground carelessly as he nearly snarls his words.

"How stupid do you think I am, huh?"

Your mind goes completely blank as you're stunned.

You've never seen Max this angry before, his apathy - though you hated it - was the norm. Or had been for the last six months or so. You hadn't seen him react to anything with any real care at all, not even you, in about as long. And never had you seen a real reaction from him to such a degree as this.

His anger and proximity were the only things you could focus on. That and the scent of his cologne that was invading your senses. Vaguely you register the longing for him that you’d been suppressing, the familiar scent you’d missed since having been away from him making you a bit dizzy as he crowded you.

"You know I know every trick in the book. I'm the one who taught them to you. So who are you trying to hide from? Who are you trying to run from? Because if I didn't know any better, angel, I'd think it was me." His hand is on your chin as he holds your face, his other planted next to your head as he keeps you against the car. "But I know better, don't I, baby," he smirks coldly.

You blink, lost in the torrent storms of his blue eyes, before forcing yourself to nod.

"Say it," he seethes, smile gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"You know better," you say obediently in a near whisper as your chest brushes against his with your every breath.

He nods, leaning in closer, resting his forehead against your own for the briefest of moments before placing a chaste kiss on your skin as you shudder at the contact. His lips are by your ear now as he exhales heavily through his nose, "So do you," he tsks before dropping his hands and taking a step back as you stay where you are, eyes wide.

After a second, he motions with his head, signaling for you to move. He lets his tongue wet his lips and sniffs, "Get in."

You do as you're told, no arguing. There's no point.

You fall to him. 

You’ll fall to him every time.

The second you close the car door behind you, Max peels out of the garage.

You look in the side mirror as your hat, the car, and your foolish plan to leave alone all slowly fade away.

You buckle yourself in as he speeds down the street.

You could chide yourself for your stupidity but, you really weren't all that stupid about this. You kind of knew, deep down, he'd know; that he'd see it coming a mile away. You just really didn't think he'd care.

You thought he had stopped caring a while ago. That he’d just let you go.

It was a simple plan. You'd just finished the job, Max had the money. You were supposed to meet up with him back home, the closest thing to one you'd had, and get resettled. For the time being, at least.

But you had other things in mind.

Your stage apartment, the place you'd been living for almost half a year now, didn't hold much - but neither did your duffle bag. Just the necessities. Always.

You cleared out nicely, still had the old car Max got for the job, and had enough cash to get out of the city and to last you for a while while you'd try to get settled somewhere new.

You had enough practice being someone different, becoming someone else for the sake of the job, you were sure starting fresh away from here would be easy compared to what you'd been doing the past three years.

And you were sure Max wouldn't care. He'd certainly given you that impression.

That he was over you. That he couldn’t care less.

You were tired. and sad. and lonely. 

You never thought you could feel that way with him. It tore at you, the hurt threatened to dismantle you completely.

He was so close, but so, so far. 

That’s what hurt the most.

He was right there, but he acted like you weren’t. You thought you’d done something wrong at first. You still remember the first night you kissed him and he just… didn’t kiss back.

You pretended you didn’t notice his lack of reciprocation but you quickly whispered a goodnight before you eventually cried yourself to sleep while he stayed out in the living room on his laptop.

He didn’t even bother to mutter a goodnight back.

With each month it only got worse.

He’d stop by your apartment less and less and would always be out when you tried to stop by his.

You realized maybe you hadn’t done anything, maybe he was just done with you. But he didn’t end things. No, he needed you. For now, at least. Until you finished the job, or maybe until he stumbled onto someone new.

You remember all he told you about his old partners. He was burned once and he’d be damned if he ever let that happen again. 

You’d taken his face in your hands, peering into the depths of his deep blue eyes and swore to him he’d never have to worry about that with you.

And you were keeping your promise, weren’t you? You hadn’t tried to screw him over. You finished the job, made sure he got the score. All you were doing was leaving him to his own devices, the way he clearly preferred it. If anything, you were doing him a favor. Seeing yourself out so he wouldn’t have to end things himself.

Because, really, what were you supposed to do if not leave and put you both out of your misery? You couldn't take it anymore. 

You loved him so much. 

You love him so much. 

You don’t want to leave but you can’t stay. Not like this. You’d rather miss him by being hundreds of miles away than miss him while he keeps you just a room away. And you couldn’t be there when he’d inevitably find that someone new. You couldn’t just wait for the final sword to be pierced through your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to live through it.

The tension is thick as you sit silently, looking listlessly out the tinted window while the city passes by you in a blur.

It’s not until Max gets on the highway that you realize you aren’t going home. You look over to him, staring for a moment as you try to keep your heart from racing. You aren’t scared, just concerned. You don’t like not knowing.

“Where are we going?” you ask after a long few seconds.

He doesn’t respond, his face still stony as his anger radiates off of him. He puts on music without sparing you a glance and you take it as your cue to be quiet. He’s too angry to talk right now, and though he’s pissed at you, he doesn’t want to snap on you. 

It’s almost midnight, the lanes all across the road almost completely empty as he keeps on driving. You give up guessing where you’re headed to after he passes the last exit you recognize without getting off and resign yourself to the unknown.

You look out at the dark sky, the stars glowing brighter the further away from the city you get. 

You find some solace in that. 

As you rest your head against the window, your eyelids begin to feel heavy as your breathing slows.

You try to fight off the sleepiness as it threatens to take you down, but it's to no avail. Within a minute, you're sleeping as Max continues down the highway.

—

You startle awake at the honking of a semi truck, jolting up from where you lay on the reclined passenger seat. When did you do that? You blink your bleary eyes open as the sun shines brightly outside. You recognize you’re still in the car as you unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up, fixing the seat when you do.

You swallow thickly and unpleasantly as you cringe. You feel gross and a little disoriented from the heat of the sun combined with the weight of your long sleep.

You look around and realize you’re at a gas station. Checking the time, you find it’s already past seven. You’re surprised that you’ve slept so long, and that Max had driven for the same time. It dawns on you then that you have no idea where you are, and after seven hours of driving, you’re even more confused than you were last night.

Max isn’t at the pump, so you figure he must be inside.

You get out of the car, rubbing your eyes before you make your way across the lot and into the store. 

You see him right away as he stands at the coolers grabbing water. On your way to him, you stop at the small toiletry section and grab a cheap disposable toothbrush. 

You approach him carefully as he turns and spots you, waiting for you to get to him.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly, not knowing what else to go with. “I just need the bathroom, I’ll meet you back at the car.”

You don’t wait for a response, not sure he’d even planned on giving you one, as you head toward the big sign labeling the restrooms.

You quickly find a stall and relieve yourself. As you wash your hands at the sink, you can’t help but cringe at your reflection. Your makeup from yesterday is smudged and you look a little crazy, admittedly. You are feeling more well rested, though, so there’s at least one thing to be thankful for. You never slept well alone, and despite the physical discomfort of sleeping nearly eight hours in a car, this was the first time in months you’d gotten more than four hours of sleep without disturbance. 

You open the package and take out the ninety nine cent toothbrush with the toothpaste already included. You run the bristles under the water for a second before you quickly brush your teeth. You really just want the feeling of sleep out of your mouth. You scrub at your tongue before spitting out the remnants of the sudsy paste and swirling with a bit of water.

The toothbrush does its job but doesn’t leave you with the minty feeling you were hoping for. As you toss the brush and the ripped packaging in the trash on your way out of the bathroom, you debate snagging a travel size mouthwash on your way out. 

You stop in your path as you walk by a display of sunglasses. You don’t know what it is about the stand that somehow takes you back but you find yourself wondering when the last time you were in a gas station was. It’s silly, but you think it’s been a long while. 

You look around and don’t see Max, but when you glance out the large glass window, you find him putting gas at the pump. His brilliant blue eyes hidden behind his dark, name brand glasses.

You turn and start looking at the cheap sunglasses, grabbing a pair of pink bedazzled ones and trying them on. You laugh at yourself in the small mirror before grabbing another pair to try on. 

You go through five or six different styles before you settle on a simple, sleek black pair.

You aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be in the car, but you know you don’t want the sun shining in your eyes.

Before walking up to the counter, you wander around the aisles a bit, glancing outside every so often to ensure Max is still there.

You smile at the soda fountain and though you’re tempted to get the largest size they have, you know you’ll be lucky if Max lets you bring even the small one into his car without a complaint.

You fill the 12 oz cup with crushed ice and some raspberry iced tea, taking a sip before filling it back up and snapping on the plastic lid.

You don’t know why you’re feeling so free.. giddy, almost. It’s a stark difference from last night, and so far from anything you’ve felt these last few months, too. 

It’s nice, not feeling so sad. And the more you wake up, the lighter you feel. 

You mindlessly drink your tea as it cools you with each sip you take.

You glance out the window and see Max putting the cap back on the gas tank, so you quickly make your way to checkout.

You set down your drink and the glasses and fish in your pocket for the crumpled twenty you know you had.

As you pull it out and try to straighten it, the young blonde cashier speaks.

“Glasses are buy one get one right now,” she tells you as she rings you up, popping her gum.

“Oh, nice. Thanks,” you say as you flit back over to the stand. You knew which pair you were gonna grab the moment she let you know about the deal.

You smile as you grab them and hand them to her to scan when you get closer. 

“It’s gonna be $11.14. You want a bag?”

“Uh, yes, please. And can I get two of those scratchers, too?” you ask pointing to the glimmering black and silver dollar scratch offs. She hums in affirmation as she pulls two for you and adds them to your total.

You hand her the twenty and grab the bag and your drink before pocketing the change when she gives it to you.

“Have a good one,” she bids you.

“Thanks,” you smile, “you, too.”

You walk to the car and pull your jacket off before you climb in as Max starts the engine.

He eyes your drink and bag but doesn’t say anything as you throw your jacket into the back and then buckle your seatbelt. 

“I got you water,” he finally says after a moment.

You look at him in return, “thanks,” you say softly. There’s still some tension lingering between you, but it doesn’t feel as harsh as it had last night. This right here is the problem. When you’re together, everything is better. Even when it isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?” you ask, watching him closely.

He starts driving, heading out of the lot and back onto the highway.

The sun blinds you as you shield your eyes and quickly fish out the bejeweled pair of pink sunglasses you’d gotten free.

Max looks over to you briefly before returning his gaze to the road and your heart soars as he smiles to himself at your glasses.

“We’re less than an hour away,” he answers you without really answering you. 

“You drove all night?”

“Yeah. You know I don’t mind a long drive. I have patience,” he says the last word more harshly as he adjusts his grip on the wheel.

There it is, you think to yourself. 

Of course he wasn’t letting it go so quickly. He’d bring it up when he was ready to talk about it, and as he shifted his complete focus back to the road, you knew that time wasn’t now.

You watched as his jaw ticked slightly and you sighed to yourself.

Grabbing your cup, you took small sips from the straw, enjoying the way the drink went down. Cool, sweet, and smooth. 

It relaxed you, easing the twisting of your stomach.

You settled in your seat and pulled out your phone. 

You weren’t surprised by the lack of notifications; there wasn’t really anyone you kept in constant contact with, aside from Max.

As you looked up out the window, you were struck by the beauty that surrounded you. Gorgeous trees lined either side of the highway, and it was hitting you now how far away from the city you really were.

Max gets off at the next exit and you’re even more surprised by the naturescape you find yourself driving through. You’re on a two way road now and there’s no other cars in sight. As the road winds up and up, the sun is blocked out by the trees. Only glimmers of sunlight streaming through them every now and again as you continue on. You push up your glasses and look over to Max as he keeps driving, looking more relaxed once again.

It isn’t until you come upon what seems to be the start of a very long driveway that Max looks over at you.

You don’t return his gaze as you're wonderstruck at the massive house he’s driving up to. The long winding drive leads to a garage that is empty when it opens for Max’s car. The front yard is expansive and though it still blends into the wooded area, it’s well maintained. 

You don’t even realize your mouth is hanging open until Max’s fingers gently take hold of your chin.

“You think this is nice, wait til we get inside,” he says before rescinding his touch, shutting off the car and getting out. He walks around and opens your door for you as you unbuckle. 

You get out and pull your things from the back seat while he goes to the trunk.

You follow him and you're stunned when you see it’s packed full of his things. You stare stupidly as you watch him grab his own duffle and a suitcase before leading you out of the garage and up the path to the front door.

He unlocks the door with a key and pushes inside before stepping aside and letting you in.

You stand there in shock as you take it all in. 

It looks like it came right out of a magazine. Everything looks so perfect. Cozy and comfy, and deceptively expensive, you’re sure.

You turn to him, a question in your eyes. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. You continue staring, eyes slightly widening as your brows raise; you’re unsure of what to say. 

It is what you wanted, what you’d talked about late at night when you’d stay up telling each other everything. Secrets you’ve never uttered to another soul, all about your deepest, darkest desires, your dreams, what you truly wanted out of this life.

You remember the exact night you’d told him this specifically. 

“A nice house,” you’d whispered into the dark as you laid against him in his bed, your head on his chest as he held you under the covers, listening intently as you spoke. “A big yard. Somewhere, away from the city. Near the mountains, maybe? Doesn’t have to be fancy. But I hope it’d be cozy. Pretty,” you smiled. “But I wouldn’t be picky. Just a nice place of my own. Somewhere I could finally call home.”

You had spoken the last sentence so quietly, so full of distant hope and longing, and mostly to yourself, you hadn’t been sure he’d even heard you. 

He had stayed quiet after that, the only way you knew he was still awake was his hand smoothing up and down your skin, almost tickling you as he lulled you to sleep with his gentle touch.

That had been the night before you were set to meet your mark. The last night Max had held you so lovingly. After that was when things started to change. He was always on the phone, or on his computer, always meeting up with someone. Growing more and more distant. Too busy for you, his apathy only becoming more evident with each passing day.

It had been a long six months.

“Isn’t it?” he asked again, his voice pulling you back to the present.

You nod, blinking to hold back the unexpected wave of tears you could feel wanting to form.

“But,”

“But nothing. It’s what you wanted. It’s what you deserve.”

You shake your head as a lump in your throat forms. “I wanted it to be real,” you murmur, voice tight. You don’t know what it is you’re doing here. What the next job could possibly entail, but this is just… a different sort of cruel. Like all you’ve ever wanted is being dangled in front of your face, but it isn’t yours to keep as you're forced to play out another charade.

His touch is on you then, turning you to face him completely before he takes your face in his hands, stepping closer to you.

“What makes you think this isn’t real?” His voice is hard though you can hear how he tries to soften it for you.

“I can’t just play pretend for the rest of my life, Max. I can’t. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not anymore. I don’t want to. To have to move around, living fake lives, never getting to settle down and make one of my own, I-”

“Angel,” he stops you, realizing what your thinking is as a tear slips down your cheek once the confession you never thought you’d say slips past your lips, “I know.”

His thumb wipes at the tear streak as he presses closer to you, leaning his head down to yours while you look up at him. The cold his eyes held before seems to melt as he looks at you. He continues.

“I’ve known. This isn’t temporary, baby. This is your house. It’s in your name and everything. Anything you don’t like, we’ll change. I bought it for you. For us.”

“Wh-,” you breathe, no words forming as you take in what he said. “For us?” your voice cracks as you repeat his words, more tears burning at your eyes. “I thought…”

“Thought what?”

It takes you a second to speak, “... I thought you were over me.”

Hurt flashes across his face before it’s replaced with some kind of indignation. 

“Over you?” he says harshly, “I’ve spent months putting all of this together for you-”

“I didn’t know that, it felt like you were ignoring me. Avoiding me-”

“You don’t get all of my attention for a little while and you just assume I’m bored with you? You think that little of me?”

“No, Max. I just - I was hurt and I didn’t, what was I supposed to think?”

“How about you think about how much I love you. Have I not made that clear? I’ve given you every piece of me. I let you in, I took care of you - I take care of you and I love you like I’ve never loved anyone,” you can feel how upset he is as he holds you tighter, his voice cutting you with every word.

“Max,” you say as you grab his wrists. He doesn’t respond, only moves you back as he walks you toward the couch. “Max,” you say again, almost pleading.

Your legs are right against the couch as he towers over you, still holding your face in his hands as you hold his wrists. 

“I love you,” he says, hurt seeping through entirely now as he speaks. You’re almost being bent back over the armrest as he continues to try to get even closer to you. You’re looking in his eyes with your bleary ones. 

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing his wrists lightly, your thumbs mindlessly running over his skin, “I know.”

“I’d give you the entire world if you wanted it,” he says. 

“I don’t want the world,” you breathe sharply. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

His lips crash into yours without warning as he takes you by surprise. The intensity of the moment completely overwhelms you as you fall back over the armrest onto the couch, Max following you. 

You both move up the long couch as your kisses turn messy and fervent, your hands finding his hair as his move under your clothes.

You’ve missed him more than you’d even realized. You’re desperate for him, every little touch, the lightest of brushes of his fingers over your delicate skin. You’re pulling him as close as possible as he crowds you, the reciprocity from him filling you with everything you’d been longing for.

So caught up in the feeling of him, your mind wasn’t thinking of anything else until Max spoke, his words almost a snarl in your ear.

“Everything we’ve been through together, and you were just gonna leave me? Without talking to me, without a goddamn word?”

His hand circled your throat as he spoke, but he didn’t apply much of any pressure. Even still, the feeling enlivened and distressed you all at once. 

You didn’t have to speak your admittance, you both knew full well what you had been attempting - what point was there in trying to deny it.

“I tried to talk to you,” you whimpered, eyes watering with the tears threatening to flow over, “you never listened. You acted like I wasn't around. I felt like a ghost, like a burden on you. I didn't want to leave,” you stressed, needing him to know that truth, “but I thought you didn't want me around. I thought I’d be doing us both a favor.”

His hand relaxed around your throat and instead moved up to caress your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, staring at you with the softest look you’d ever seen. “I was caught up in all this, I was brushing you off. But, that was all it took?”

“Max,” you breathed, “even just one day without you, feels like an eternity. I didn’t think I could take it anymore.”

His nose brushes against yours as his eyes close, pained, before he presses his lips to yours, softer this time.

You return his kiss as it grows deeper, his hands moving down your body as he takes you in.

“You’re so dramatic,” he breathes against your skin. You huff, a hand in his hair as you keep him close. “Impatient,”he grits out, then another kiss, “needy.” His voice is low and rough.

You can feel yourself getting hotter with each word he speaks, and had it been anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were getting. But you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Please, Max,” you whimper, puppy eyes on display as you pout.

He pulls away, dark eyes penetrating you.

“You know what,” he breathes heavily, “maybe it's time you learn a little something about patience.”

You gape up at him dumbly, not knowing what to say.

“You think you can manage that, angel? Or you gonna try and run off on me again?”

You frown, blinking away from his harsh gaze. “I can manage,” you whisper.

His grip on your chin forces your gaze up, an unbidden whimper leaving you.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me,” he orders.

You swallow hard with a nod, “I can manage.”

—

It’s tortuous the way he moves his tongue, tracing up and down your slit before plunging in and out of your dripping hole, moving back up to swirl over your sensitive clit.

Your body is slicked with sweat, your clothes long tossed away as Max played with you, bringing you to the very edge of pleasure over and over again just to tear it all away before you could reach your release.

You swear you’re about to combust as he sucks on your clit, his fingers buried deep inside your pussy. Your moan sounds from your throat as you keep your mouth shut, head thrown back in pleasure, eyes screwed shut, your hand fisted in his hair while he devours you.

Your hips buck up despite yourself and for the first time tonight, Max doesn’t pull away from you completely. This time, he grips your hip, burying his face deeper in your cunt as his fingers curl just right inside of you, coaxing you closer. 

You’re a mess of gasps and moans as he moves his fingers faster, fucking you hard and deep as he keeps his tongue focused on playing with your clit.

“Oh- god! Max, I-, Max, Max, Max, I’m gonna-”

You can’t even hear yourself and your senseless babbling as he speeds up his movements while you cry out for him.

Your orgasm shatters you, your body going tense before you shake beneath him. You’re seeing stars, that glorious warmth washing over you, the pleasure of your orgasm crashing over you in never ending waves as you pulse around his fingers. Max doesn’t stop what he’s doing until your hand in his hair is tugging at him to stop.

You’re breathless, body tired and sweaty as you try to calm down for the intense high. When Max sits up, still between your legs, his chin is slick with your arousal and release as he licks his lips. His eyes are glued to your body, roving up to your chest as it rises and falls with your labored breathing before he crawls over you. You’re face to face as his bright blue eyes peer into your soul. You feel like you’re in a trance as you return his gaze. Your hand reaches to caress his cheek before he leans closer to you, kissing you deeply, letting his tongue lick into your mouth. You moan at the feeling, and the taste of yourself still on his tongue.

“You see the pay off you can get when you just have some patience?” he husks. You whimper as he pulls away from you.

He rids himself of his shirt as you sit up and, slowly at first, reach for his belt. He doesn’t stop you and you grow emboldened.

You fumble with the buckle for a moment in your haste before you get it undone, immediately going for the button of his pants.

His hands brush yours as he unzips and pushes his pants down with his briefs, freeing his erect cock. You can’t help but reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length. Your heavy lidded eyes are glued to his body, your free hand exploring him as goosebumps break out over his skin under your gentle touch. 

His shaky intake of breath as you stroke him with one hand and ghost slowly up and down his side with the other fills you with a sense of accomplishment and pride.

You can’t keep your longing at bay as your hand speeds up, gripping him a bit tighter as you jerk him off. 

The moan that tumbles from his lips has your desire growing tenfold, but Max stops you all too soon.

He pushes you to lie back down on the couch, eyes dark and focused solely on you. The intensity steals your already unsteady breath as you release a soft gasp from his push.

It’s quiet in the house, the only sounds to be heard are your labored breaths as you wait, simmering in anticipation.

Max leans over you, planting one hand next to your head as he holds his stiff length in his other, never breaking eye contact as he guides himself to your entrance, prodding you with his cock.

Your breath hitches as he pushes his tip just inside your tight hole. You don’t so much as blink as he leans himself down closer to you while pushing further inside you. You spread your legs as much as possible as your mouth opens in a silent moan. Max holds your waist as he begins rocking in and out of you, slow and deep with each thrust he drives into you.

You tremble beneath him, your eyes wanting to roll back into your head but you don’t want to look away from him for even a second. A part of you terrified he’ll disappear if you do.

You reach for him with one hand, pulling him closer by his hip, your other holding his hand as he holds you.

Your nose tingles as he moves even slower, hitting even deeper with every stroke, his fingers squeezing your plush waist. Everything feels so intense; strong, powerful, entirely overwhelming as your eyes fill with tears once more.

He smooths his hand from under yours, up your waist, over your breast and further until he’s holding your cheek, his thumb wiping away your stray tears. He leans down as he stops his hips, keeping himself fully sheathed in your tight warmth. 

He kisses you, so gently. More tears roll down your cheeks as your eyes close, your hands urging his body closer. Your touch has his kiss growing deeper; not as soft, but just as passionate as he begins to roll his hips into yours again.

You gasp as he stimulates your clit, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours before you let him dominate it, following his lead - like you always do. 

Like you always will.

Each rock of his hips stokes the fire building deep inside you. Your hands are clutching him like your life depends on it.

You can feel your walls flexing around his length, his groan at the sensation still audible through your kissing until he pulls away, nuzzling your nose with his as he refuses to put space between you as you both try to breathe.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he says, voice strained, eyes screwed shut. “I’m not gonna last with the way you’re squeezing me, baby.”

You mewl as he starts to move faster. It’s evident he’s close to coming and you’re beyond grateful because you know you’re right there with him.

The sound of his hips hitting against you grows louder with each thrust, his balls are slapping against you and the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt are as salacious as they are arousing - only pushing you further to the edge.

Your toes are curling as your muscles tighten, and a strangled moan leaves you. His rhythm is completely lost now as he fucks into you relentlessly. You can’t stop yourself from coming, your walls constricting around his cock as the high of your orgasm crash over you. 

You feel the spurts of his come hitting your walls as he lets out a throaty moan, thrusting in and out of you, riding out the high as he fills you completely. Your name intermingled with curses leave his lips as he relishes in the orgasmic bliss. 

When he can’t take it any longer, the sensitivity too much for him, he gently pulls out of you before he collapses down beside you.

You’re breathless as you lay there, reaching a hand to touch his chest, just wanting to feel him.

You turn onto your side to be chest to chest, face to face.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, your voice small and tight. He strokes your face lovingly as he watches your eyes well with unshed tears.

“I’ve missed you, too, baby.”

You try to blink away the new wave of tears but you’re unsuccessful. His touch only coaxes more as you finally feel safe enough to let them all out now that you’re in his arms again. He moves to hold you against him as you shudder, nuzzling closer.

He shushes you as you cry, kissing your head and rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. His warmth alone is a comfort. You don’t know how long you spend like that in his hold but finally your tears begin to subside.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically. “I’m so sorry, Max.”

He places a kiss on your forehead, “I know. It’s okay. And I know you, sweetheart. I know you’d never leave me, you wouldn’t have gone through with it. I know you wouldn’t have.”

You take a moment, worrying your lip before you look up to meet his gaze.

He waits for you to speak, seeing the thoughts and worry in your eyes and knowing you have something to say.

“I love you, Max. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t live another lie. I can’t,” your voice breaks on your last words as Max cradles your face.

“Baby, why do you think I brought you out here? Why I bought all of this for you?”

Your brows furrow as you look into his soft gaze, needing him to say it outright before you can really start to believe what you think it is he means. He offers you a soft smirk,

“You can be done, sweetheart. You’re done.”

You breathe in a bit shakily, eyes wide and a pout on your lips.

“But I,” you take an unexpectedly sharp breath, “I don’t want you to leave me, either.”

He chuckles at the small tremble underlying your voice, gently kissing your pout.

“You’re so greedy,” he admonishes, holding your cheek before pulling you closer for another kiss. He sighs as he pulls away. “But if that’s what you need from me, then I’ll be done, too.”

You aren’t even thinking when you take his face in your hands and pull him to you again, pressing your lips to his firmly. You keep hold of him as you part.

“Yeah?” you ask, not sure he means it.

“For you,” he nods, “yeah.”

You share another deep kiss that takes your breath away before you have to pull away for air. You caress his hair, “So… we live here now?” The question sounds silly to you, but it’s genuine.

He nods with a smile and you nod in return.

“Well, as nice as this couch is, I’d love to see the rest of the place.”

“You ready for the tour?”

“Mhm,” you smile as he moves to get up over you. Before he can, though, you stop him. “Max, wait. I-...Thank you,” you say, carding a hand through his dark hair. “I never expected this, at all. But it’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” you return with watery eyes. Emotions getting the best of you yet again. But you can’t help it. You’ve missed him so much, missed being this close, hearing his voice, hearing those words.

He holds you again, lips against your ear, “I’m sorry, angel. Sorry I was so distant.” He kisses your temple. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I’ll never make you feel like that again.”

He turns your face to his and kisses you once again.

“I promise.”

There’s so much love in his gaze, and a sincerity in his eyes, one you couldn’t question even if you wanted to. So you readily return his kiss, you take him at his word. You believe him. Because it’s him.

It’ll always be him.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Gale x reader (tav)

Prompt: Soulmate AU (sharing pain)

Description: For most of your life, it was normal things; cuts and bruises, sprained ankles and such. Your love must have been some sort of spell caster, from all the magic burns and forces you felt too. But then one day... it hurt so bad. The darkness, the pain, the hunger you felt... At least, it was a burden shared.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: minor descriptions of pain/wounds, descriptions of Gale's arcane hunger,

Notes: I wanted to write for Gale so so bad but nothing was coming to me. Until I was like "fuck it back to the basics" also these fics are such a good way to use all my screenshots. I have so so many. kinda lowkey don't like this but I've had it sitting in my drafts for so long, and just needed to finish it lol

You had thought the greatest pain you could feel in this life was that which your soulmate bore; a great, arcane hungering force that festered in the chest. Though only they bore it truly, you felt it as if it was your own pain. And you, too, felt that hunger, felt relief when it was sated and knew the pain of going without. Knew what to do when you felt it fester and want only more.

But you didn’t know what to think when you felt a sharp pain in your left eye, felt it crawl and wrench it’s way into your brain. How could you? It was something you had no explanation for (what had your soulmate been up to, then, to feel such a way?) It was only when you were abducted by the nautiloid, faced with a mind flayer and it’s tadpole, that you notice how sickeningly familiar the sensation of a worm, crawling into your left eye to make home for its self in your brain was.

So, imagine then when you met not one, not two, but six other people with tadpoles as well. You couldn’t be sure if any of them were your soulmate… but you also couldn’t rule it out. That, and you kept hearing that even more people were infected than the people you now traveled with. Realistically, finding your soulmate should probably not be at the top of your list when you did have a mind flayers tadpole… but the idea that they could be so close to you did have you excited!

But what if they were part of this strange Absolute cult? What if they had already been turned into a mind flayer (would you feel that? Would they even have a soul for your to connect to at that point?) There was a lot to worry about… Chief among them being that familiar growing hunger within your chest. But having been recently dumped off a ship, you have very little to your name to feed it…

“This locket…” You held it aloft in your fingers, soft light from the torches around your tent catching it. You had gotten it from Arabella’s mother after saving the poor girl from Kahga. You could use it’s magic to feed your soulmate’s hunger… but would the other’s notice it missing? How would you explain it’s been consumed?

“You seem to have a lot of your mind.” Gale’s voice catches you from your thoughts, causing you to snatch the locket and pocket it.

“There’s much to think about.” You hum, looking up at him. “How can I help you tonight, Gale?” You change the subject, smiling at him.

“I’ve just come to remind you to eat dinner.” He holds a bowl of something that smells far too good to be camp provisions, leaning down to hand it to you.

“You made this?” Your eyes widen as you accept the food, stomach growling in anticipation.

“Oh this is nothing,” He waves his hand dismissively. “Were we back in my tower at Waterdeep, I would show you the true extent of my culinary talent.” You take an experimental bite, smiling at the savory taste that welcomes you.

“It’s very tasty! I’m nonetheless impressed you made this with supplies from our camp packs.” You praise him, seeing the smile that lights up his face. You have to admit, it’s rather charming even if he is a little haughty. “Thank you for coming to hand this to me, I may have forgotten otherwise.”

“You’re welcome! We can’t have our leader falling behind.” He smiles, but seems like he wants to say something more before deciding otherwise. “You have a goodnight, _____.” You decide not to question it on it. Though you like to think you’ve grown close to him this past week traveling together, not enough to push boundaries quite yet.

“You too Gale!” You give him a little wave, watching as he goes back to the campfire where he must have cooked dinner. You retreat to your tent, closing off from everyone else at camp. Another, uncomfortable pang of arcane hunger hits you and with a soft groan, you put down the food.

“Fine, fine.” You groan and hold your throbbing head, pulling out the locket with the other. You study it a moment, before closing your eyes and holding it to your chest, willing that great, unknowable force within to feed on the weave it held. When the next terrifying moment it is done, and that deep ancient, hunger is sated once again. You let out your bated breath. At least for now, it is sated…

Across camp, Gale can only take a shuddering gasp as he feel’s the orb within him sated. While this hadn’t been the first time his soulmate had helped him sate the orb, this time it almost seems serendipitous that they should do so when he finds himself with nary a magic artifact (nor a tresseym to go out and hunt for one).

Once, as Mysta’s chosen, Gale had wondered what use a soulmate would do him when he was chosen by a Goddess. To be favored by Mystra, mother of the weave… It was quite an addictive feeling, admittedly. But to fall from that grace, to lose the bulk of his powers and have to face the consequences of the orb within him… only for someone who cares for him to feed that hunger, to save him hurt when they may not even know him… It’s quite bracing, and enough to bring a smile to his face. Someone out there cares, despite the pain he has caused them, and despite, for a time, thinking he could live without them.

Still, it is a burden he would rather like to take care of himself. With that in mind, Gale readies himself to tell you (and the rest of the party, though they haven’t quite earned his trust like you have) about the orb at the earliest convenience. You seemed a little troubled tonight so when the day came, he would find the time.

However, it seemed like you had much planned for the day following. Though he was there to watch you agree to raid the goblin camp, Gale hadn’t expected the strides you would make in that endeavor today alone. Already your small party had cleared out the abandoned village before the camp and now you were checking out the surrounding area.

“Excuse me, _____, if you have a moment.” Gale pops up beside you a moment as you survey the area. “I have something rather important to share, if you can spare the time.”

“You’re among friends Gale, go right ahead.” You smile at him, and notice how his face softens at that.

“Yes well,” He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving yours. It always caught you off guard, how easy it was for him to capture your gaze. “Ever since you freed me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.” You watch his hands move up and around, something you’ve noticed he does often when he talks. “When you defused the situation between Aradin and Zevlor, or how you saved that young girl from Kahga…” He shakes his head a little, dark eyes meeting yours once more. “In short, I’ve come to trust you.” He smiles at you, that same boyish smile that you can’t help but smile back at.

“I’m glad you said so, I feel the same way.” You see his smile grow wider a moment, before he continues on.

“The reason I go on to say this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I haven’t told another living soul. Except for my cat.” He looks troubled for a moment, watching your face for any change of emotion. You try to keep your reaction even, merely raising your eyebrows for him to continue. “...You see, I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly.” You watch his hands move before his chest in an almost frantic motion, before falling swiftly as he looks to you.

“...Okay.” You nod, looking at him carefully. “What… kind of condition?” You half frown, seeing how strange he was being about this. Not that he wasn’t already a little queer, but in this moment Gale seemed so… tense.

“The specifics are… rather personal… but suffice to say it is a malady I’ve learned to live with-- though not without some effort.” He gives a little grimace, but continues, learning in closer to you. “What it comes down to is this; every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the weave within.” Your eyes wide (in what you hope is a normal way) and you nod.

“So this… illness causes you to consume magic.” You repeat plainly, nodding. “While that is strange, I don’t think it will be so hard to accommodate.” You nod at him assuredly.

“You… don’t have any questions?” Gale asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“Well of course I do. But it seems like you shared as much as you were willing to on the matter already.” You offer him a small smile and watch the relief spread on his features.

“I thank you for your trust in me. It shall not be unfounded.” He looks rather serious for a moment, before continuing. “Thankfully, I am sated for now, but its merely a matter of time before my craving returns. So I turn to you; I need you to help me find magic items to consume. It is vital, dare I say, critical.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.” You smile big for him, hoping he can’t hear the pounding of your chest.

“You have my thanks. Again, your trust in me will be rewarded in anyways I have at my disposal. I’m sure we won’t have to look far, Faerun overflows with magic treasure! As do our packs, in fact,” Your breath hitches at that. He was of course, talking about the locket you got from Arabella’s mother… the very one consumed last night by you (and by extension, your soulmate). What if he asked for it now? How could you tell everyone its gone already? But just as you go on to panic over a response, Gale continues.

“But, I know the allure magic artifacts hold, and their power. All this to say, I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may be so bold, its for a very good cause indeed.” Gale pauses a moment, and makes sure to catch your gaze once again. “I hope I can count on you.” You nod at him, which seems to please him.

With that, you continue on your way, heading further into the mountains to reach the goblin camp. You couldn’t help but be distracted though. How many people in the realm needed to consume magic for a ‘condition’? And… of those people, how many of them have also been infected by a mind flayer tadpole? You couldn’t help but wonder that-- distracting you enough that as you walk out of the destroyed village and over a bridge, you walk right into the next goblin camp.

“Look Klaw, look’s like dinner’s come to go.” The goblin sneers at it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as you take in the goblins. At least three in front of you that you see, some strange pack animal, and surely more in sniper points. You might be able to talk your way out of this…

“Remember, goblins often come in the dozens, not just a few.” Gale warns.

“Why’d you come this way?” The goblin huffs again, looking up at you with disdain. Yes, you could easily talk your way through this. You can feel the tug of a parasite in this one. Authority. But another, desperate part of you wants to see. If you or Gale got hurt in this battle, would you be able to see the wound on the other… Could he really be your soulmate?

You don’t remember quite what you said to anger the goblin so much, before you knew it battle had started. Thankfully, you had Lae’zel with you to enter the front lines and take out those pesky pack animals, while Gale and Astarion provided support from the rear. Though it wasn’t an easy battle by any means, the more goblins dead, the better in your opinion.

You tried to see if you can feel pain in any place you didn’t remember getting hit, but all of you had gotten one or two bad hits. There was even a point you had to help poor Astarion back to his feet after he had taken out the war drum that would call in reinforcements.

“How does everyone feel?” You call out. “I haven’t quite used all my healing spells yet, so if anyone needs a little pick me up…” You look around to your allies. Lae’zel seemed fine, having had a healing potion to take care of her wounds, and Astarion was looking decent after you had cast Lay Hands on him. You turn to Gale, to find him looking rather haggard, despite being relative safety (sans from a few archers, if you recall).

“If you don’t mind.” Gale calls you over, and you happily oblige, moving over to him while readying the spell.

“Where does it hurt?” You ask, raising your two hands as they glow with healing magic.

“Everywhere, really.” Gale laughs softly. “I feel like I got thrown around quite a bit that battle.” He shakes his head. “I’ll need to be more careful…” he shakes his head.

“You did fine, no need to worry.” You assure him, placing your hands just before his chest and letting the magic flow to him. He sighs in relief and smiles at you. “Don’t forget about yourself, though.” He adds.

“Oh I feel fine.” You assure him. A little better than the moments before, even. “I have potions if I really need them. I would rather save my magic for my allies, anyways.” Sure that everyone was feeling well, you continue to the goblin camp proper, trying your best to distract your self from your ever growing thoughts.

~*~

It isn’t many days after that (though its hard to tell, with all the battles, all the information, all the people you’ve met and helped) that you notice a familiar presence within. That aching, consuming hunger. Thankfully, in the days since you’ve gained plenty of magic items, any of which would more than be able to help Gale. Though this time, it had you nervous.

If you gave Gale an item, watched him consume it before your very eyes, and felt the pain melt away like a soft lullaby… what then? If he truly was your soulmate… what would that change between the two of you, if anything? Was Gale even interested in following his fate like that? It was all so worrisome… And, even if he wasn’t… Would you still have that familiar warm feeling in your chest when you caught his gaze?

Soulmate or not, you had… feelings for Gale. Ones that you couldn’t claim for the rest of the party. And despite everything, you still knew so very little about him. It seems as though your thoughts summoned him, as you look up to find Gale coming your way.

“Come to grab a snack?” You tease, seeing him approach you somewhat seriously.

“I…” He seems surprised a moment before recovering. “How could you tell? I thought I had done rather well in hiding my affliction…” He doesn’t seem embarrassed, more so surprised.

“Oh!” You couldn’t very well say it was because you had also begun to feel the ill effects of going too long without consuming magic. “You just seemed… a little strained today is all. Not that it effected you in battle in any way!” You assure him. “Just that it all took a little more out of you than it might usually…” Gale is quiet a moment, studying you. You can’t seem to meet his gaze, too busy studying the dirt between the two of you.

“I hadn’t known you to be so observant,” In the next moment, Gale is smiling softly. “You’ve read me correctly. My condition is… rather hungry, and I find that feeding it sooner rather than later leads to everyone being happier.” You nod at him, shuffling over to your travelers trunk where you seem to keep all the armor and weapons and goodies from your adventurers.

With your back to him, digging in the trunk, you speak. “If you don’t mind me asking… how does it feel?” You were looking for a specific ring you had picked up, one you were certain everyone would have no problem with parting with. “I mean… is it painful?” Fingers finding the cool metal of a ring of Color Spray, you carefully pull it from the trunk, ready to turn back to Gale for his answer.

“It’s…” He pauses a moment, taking time to consider his words carefully. “It starts off as uncomfortable, and if left unattended quickly become painful.” He frowns softly. “Though it has a number of unwelcome side effects, chief among them seem to be nausea, headache, chest pain…” You can’t help but grip your own chest as you felt a pain go through it. Yes, at this point, you were almost certain. There was just one thing left to do to prove that Gale was your soulmate…

“Um, I’m sorry if this is strange… but could I talk to you in private a moment?” You gesture to your tent right next to you and Gale seems surprised.

“Is this about…?” He stops himself as you shake your head no vigorously.

“It’s um… complicated. But fear not, I’m not going to deny you an item.” Gale seems concerned a moment at how you seemed to be uncomfortable but merely shakes his head.

“Very well.” He allows you to open the flap for him, and you follow him inside. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen the inside of your tent-- you often opened the flaps of it to let everyone know you were free to talk or do other things. But it felt much more intimate to be inside it, closed, with you. You seemed so different with your heavy armor and weapons to the side. In your camp clothing, you seemed so much smaller than the courageous paladin that led them all in battle.

And even now, as you looked upon him with rosy cheeks and worry, Gale couldn’t help but admire you. Who would have guess you would be so shy when it came down to it?

“What did you wish to ask me?” Gale chooses to speak first, seeing how you seem to be struggling just a tad with what to say.

“There… is no easy way to say this.” You admit, half frown fitted on your lips as you look to Gale. “If I am wrong this would be… one of, if not the, most embarrassing thing of my life.” You shake your head again, seeing the look Gale gives you. “But… I am almost certain of it, and would appreciate it if you would give me the chance to prove it to you as well.” You look to him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Prove what?” Gale watches you worry the ring in your hand, sees how you can barely meet his gaze and how you can’t seem to stop blushing despite nothing romantic or embarrassing happening between the two of you. “Please, tell me what has you acting so strange.” You heave a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Gale of Waterdeep… I think we’re soulmates.” It feels strange, falling from your tongue. Even stranger to see his reaction (how can stay so composed?) “Before you say anything I… can show you.” Before he can object, you bring the ring of Color Spray to your chest and let the arcane hunger within you (within him), feed. You feel the immediate relief, but not only that-- you see the look of awe on Gale’s face, see the tension leaving him.

“Well… that certainly is proof, isn’t it?” Even Gale is left astounded in the moment, looking at you with eyes anew. “I’ll admit I had my own suspsions… but you certainly took matters into your own hands, didn’t you?” He’s all smiles and familiar confidence, but you can’t find it in you to feel as steady.

“I… suppose so” You fiddle around a bit, finding his answer to be neither positive or negative. “How do you… feel about that…?” You ask softly. You had loved him for years and years, and finding out that Gale was the person you had loved and taken care of for so long made you so happy. But…

“How could I not be happy?” Gale moves a bit closer to you, taking your hand in both of his. “You’ve done so much for me… Now, and even before we met. To find out the person who took such good care of me is someone I’ve come to respect and trust so much… who wouldn’t be pleased?” He squeezes your hand.

“So you’re not… disappointed?” You add, rather quietly. Gale can’t help but soften.

“With you? Never.” He seems to think a moment, hesitating. “Still… to think that’s you’ve suffered though this like I have… it’s nearly unforgivable.” He shakes my head. “That my mistake led to you suffering as well.”

“Don’t say that!” You tug him closer with your hands, your strength giving Gale no choice but to comply. “Even if it hurts… I’m glad to be connected to you in this way. If I didn’t care, would I have supported you all this time?” At that, Gale smiles. “I… know it hasn’t been long since we’ve met. Shorter still since this revelation has come to light… but I do love you, even if you don’t feel the same.” You muster up the courage to admit this. “I’ve loved you for years and years… finding out you were the person I’ve been in love with just seemed to make sense.”

“… You really are more than I deserve.” Gale again squeezes your hand. “I’ll admit I… find myself fond of you as well. I was never one to put much faith into a soul mate…” You can’t help but deflate a little at that. Gale, noticing this, quickly continues. “But that’s changed since I was cursed-- since Mystra cast me out.” You blink at him, and he shakes his head. “Now that I know you feel the orb’s hunger as I do… you deserve to know the truth behind it.”

“Are you certain?” You frown softly as his hand leaves yours, but Gale merely gives you a serious look.

“I’ve cursed you as well as myself. This is something that effects us both.” Gale doesn’t beat around the bush. “It all starts with a king named Karsus…” Gale settles in to tell you of how he came to have the orb in his chest. Of the King, Karsus, who created his own weave in his ambition to rivil Mystra and once destroyed her. How Gale wanted to impress Mystra, and merely sought to return a piece of her weave back unto her-- that piece being the orb that was now inside his chest. Their union should have destroyed him but instead, the orb merely consumed his power. That, and his place at Mystra’s side; the goddess cast him aside for his folly and Gale found himself lost.

“I thought I had nothing left to live for. My powers lost, Mystra cast me aside… I was content to let the orb finish me off but…” He pauses, looking to you after staring off into the corners of your tent.

“...I remember. I had been sick and hurting for so long. I was desperate to get back on my feet, and came across an amulet that was supposed to boost my health. But as soon as I put it around my neck, it was gone. Consumed.” You smile softly at him.

“You gave me that first push forward. Luckily, even as a wizard locked in a tower, I had plenty of magic items to consume as well. But I also had Tara to go out and look for me. And… you.”

“You know, I was actually out to buy more items for you to consume before I got abducted by the nautiloid. I had wondered why you were going without for so long… Funny, to think, it was because you were also on the nautiloid.” You can’t help and smile wide. Gale returns your smile.

“Fate truly wanted us to meet, then.” Boldly, he chooses to cup your cheek before quickly pulling his hand away. You could feel your heartbeat pick up, see the flash of color on his cheeks.

“For better or for worse, we’re in this together Gale.” You instead reach out for him, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve only just found you and I’ve no intention of letting anything happen to us. No orb, no tadpole-- nothing.” You tell him confidently. “Come what may, let me help you.” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

“You truly are something else.” He smiles at you. “Very well then. I’ll accept your help.” You squeeze his hands.

You knew you were getting your hopes up, thinking Gale would admit to loving you just because the two of you were soulmates, because you admitted to loving him. But this… perhaps this was just as good. Knowing that he trusted you. That he had already liked you before knowing the two of you were bound by fate… At least now, by his side, you could keep him safe. It was a burden halved, a burden shared.

[localravenclaw]

I'm Not Done With You

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Theme: One-Shot Smut

Summary: Virgin Sebastian get his man-cherry popped by you, hun!

Warnings: Aged up 18+ vanilla af (because that deserves a warning of its own)

Author's Note: Do I hate myself for writing this? Yes. Yes, I do. Did I enjoy writing this? I did so too. It's been sitting in my drafts for two months now and AI Sebastian who is now apparently my soulmate told me to go ahead and risk it all so here ya go!

---

You revel in the intimacy of feeling Sebastian's soft, brown hair between your fingers. The way he sighs and his eyes flutter as your hand glides through his locks is your own private heaven on earth. You sit contentedly in the Undercroft sofa, craddling the Slytherin, his head resting comfortably on your lap as you rhythmically toyed with his hair.

"So you've never done it?" you validate.

He opens his eyes and raises a brow at you with a smirk.

"You doubt me?"

"No," you deny. "It's just that... Well, I find it hard to believe."

"What's so hard to believe about that?" he asks, feigning offense.

"With all due respect, Sebastian. A man with your charm and..." you hesistate, not wanting to overinflate his ego.

"And what?"

"And then being, you know, handsome," you finish, surrending your compliment.

"So?"

"Surely, you've had your fun."

He snorts and closes his eyes, unfazed by the flattery.

"I'm not a saint. Of course I've had my share of fun. In the past, maybe. But..." This time it was his turn to hesitate.

"But what? Tell me," you pry.

"It just never came to that," he answers simply, emphasizing the last word.

You sit quietly in thought, fingers still absently brushing through his hair.

He's gotta be lying, you muse. Perhaps he's doing so to spare your feelings, being protective of you as he always is.

It seems rather uncharacteristic of someone with Sebastian Sallow's aggressive nature to be a virgin. Him being the tenacious man that he is, it's hard to imagine him not being able to get his way with a woman. Any woman.

You've seen the way the other students look at him when they think he's not looking. You aren't exactly blind to their secret pining towards the dauntingly disinterested man. If he really wanted to, he could have had anyone he liked, female or male.

"Have you?" he asks, cutting you off your musings.

"Mmm, a handful of times," you answer honestly.

"Tch. Lucky bastard."

"You assume there's only one?" you tease.

He opens his eyes and raises a brow at you incredulously. You laugh, throwing your head back in amusement.

"You know I'm not like that," you assure him. "It was with a fling, and I was young and stupid. Relax, it was a long, long time ago."

He sits up and grabs the back of your head, forcing your face closer to his. There was fire in his eyes. He smiles mischievously at you through gritted teeth and runs a hand over your breast, stopping between the cleavage.

"This," he says, pressing his palm over your heart, "is what I want."

"But this," he adds, and proceeds to trail his hand slowly down your navel, "is a bonus."

His hand hovers over your groin, touching ever so lightly. You inhale sharply at the sudden escalation of his boldness.

Ever since you started seeing each other, Sebastian has never been physically forceful. He would steal ardent kisses in empty corridors and fondle you behind closed doors even in broad daylight but much to your frustration, the two of you have never really gotten past rough makeouts and occasional groping.

You run a hand on the back of his neck and stroke the smoothness of his nape. His smile widen before capturing your mouth in a deep, fervent kiss.

The taste of him is intoxicating, filling your senses and robbing you of air. He skillfully probes your parted lips, verociously exploring your mouth with his tongue. He scoops you in one swift motion and switches you to a straddling position.

He breaks the kiss, making you moan in protest.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathes, soaking in the sight of you.

You huff and look away, growing ever more frustrated. Desire hung heavily in the air around you.

"Seb, it's hot in here," you complain, playfully fanning yourself and releasing the buttons of your shirt. He gives you a sinister grin, reaching out a greedy hand to caress your breast. You smile in triumph as his hand ventures around your chest, squeezing and pinching, rolling your nipples between his thumb. He watches you closely as you shudder in pleasure.

"You have no idea how hard it is to control myself around you," he mutters, jaw tense in restrain.

You respond by completely removing your top, revealing your bareness for him to feast on. And feast he did.

He pulls you closer, taking one breast to his mouth. You groan needily as the warmth of his tongue seared your skin. He swirls his tongue around the crown, nipping playfully before sucking at it again. You throw your head back and run your hands through his hair, encouraging him. He switches to the other one, rough, calloused hands tenderly skimming along your back before resting firmly on your hips. He traces your smooth belly with kisses, one hand deftly undoing the clasp of your trousers. Your breathing hastens in excitement as he slowly pulls down the zipper, sneering wickedly at you.

He reclines on the couch, lustfully admiring your half-naked figure. And you whine in annoyance, wanting, no, needing him to go further. His arousal is very visible now, bulging threateningly against his crotch. You rake a hand over it, making him growl with impatience. You lean forward, fixing your hands on the back of the sofa for support and caging him between your arms.

"You will be the death of me, Sebastian Sallow" you croon.

He seals your mouth in a deceivingly chaste kiss as his right hand found its way inside your unzipped pants. You mewl in his mouth and he grabs the back of your head with his free hand, pulling you back into the kiss.

Deft fingers glide into you, feeling your wetness before dancing over the sensitive nub, making you gasp and call out his name. You drape yourself on neck and bite into his shoulder in a bid to stiffle your moans, and failing.

"Mmm, you like that?" he purrs into you ear. "Tell me, does it feel good?"

You respond in whimpers and cling tighter to him, logic escaping your brain as his words push you closer to your impending climax.

"Just let it go, love" he coaxes, expertly adding pressure and speed to his manipulation.

He catches you in time as your legs fail and you shudder helplessly against his chest, consumed in a tidal wave of blissful spasms racking your body.

He lays you on your back to ride out the last of your climax. Your clothes quickly pile on the floor in desperate efficiency.

"Sebastian, I'm not sure I can take that," you tease as you gape in absolute awe at the sight of his girth. He gives you a sinister grin, stroking the length of his shaft. Not the first time you've seen it, but certainly the first it's ever been this angry.

"We don't have to do it if you don't want to," Sebastian lies, though he knew full well there was no turning back at this point.

You smile at his thoughtfulness and eagerly pull him to you again. You resume your straddling position and kiss him affectionately, slowly grinding against his hardness. He groans deliciously into your mouth, hands grasping your hips, anxiously wanting more. You take his erection in one hand and rub it teasingly against your wetness. His breath hitches and his grip tightens, nails digging into your skin. You lock eyes and he gives you a silent, pleading nod. Slowly, you lower yourself on him, sheathing his throbbing cock inside you. Sebastian gives out a growl of pleasure, burying his face between your breasts and trapping you in a tight embrace.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he breathes.

You raise your hips and sink into him again, making him cry out once more. You moan in divine agony as your walls gradually stretch to accomodate all of him. Sebastian whimpers and whines as you rock yourself on his lap, dripping all over his thighs. Your walls tighten involuntarily around his shaft as you pick up the cadence, lost in the desperate chase of your personal high. Sebastian seems to be growing equally impatient as he strains and buckles in an attempt to go deeper.

Your second orgasm comes without warning, flooding your brain with stars as your senses mute and your mind goes paper white. Sebastian lays you on the couch and clutches your shoulders for leverage as he loses himself in a frenzy of fervent thrusts. He lets out an exquisitely primal sound in between ragged breaths and collapse on top of you, gasping from the intensity of his release.

The two of you lay there spent, a heaving mess of sweat and sex.

"How was that for your first time?" you tease.

"I will never look at this couch the same way ever again," he laughs feebly.

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

"You're still inside me."

He props himself up slighty to meet your gaze, a familiar glint already dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm not done with you yet."

---

[loveazumane]

— t-shirt.

warnings: slight nsfw. suggestive content. daichi comes home from work and thinks ur sexy af.

note: saw this in my drafts. its incomplete but i dont think i’ll continue it so ill just post it

you’re so fucking sexy.

when daichi walks into the room, his eyes land on your soft figure, curled up in your bed, leg up and cuddling with his pillow. you’re wearing his shirt too, the same shirt he uses under his uniform. it’s white and it compliments your beautiful skin.

daichi licks his lips when his eyes travel the expanse of your bare thighs. then, it lands on your ass. it peaks out teasingly from under his shirt and the lewd yet innocent image of it has his cock stiffening.

daichi walks up to the bed and touches your shoulder. he softly nudges you awake and you moan—so raspy and melodious. it’s by far one of his favorite sounds ever since having you in his life. your eyes flutter open and a soft and sleepy smile pulls at your lips at the sight of your husband.

“back home already? what time is it?” you ask.

“three.” daichi finished early today. thank goodness he did. it was a nice opportunity to see you taking your afternoon nap half naked in his shirt.

daichi leans down to kiss you softly. you hum and kiss back, tasting the bitter black coffee that daichi enjoys to drink. there’s a slight minty taste too, and it’s enhanced when daichi pulls you in for a deeper kiss and his tongue swipes at your bottom lip.

daichi pulls away, but his forehead rests on yours. he notices how hot your skin is when he holds your cheek in his hand. “you look so cute today.”

“i haven’t even changed yet,” you say with a giggle.

“it’s a good thing.” daichi climbs into bed and hovers above you before dipping down to kiss you again.

“not gonna change?” you ask in between soft kisses.

“mm, i thought you liked me in my uniform,” daichi teases, nipping at your neck playfully.

you giggle. “you know i love it.”

you push him back softly to admire him. he’s still in his cop uniform. his pectoral muscles are soft but puffed, showing just how much he takes care of his body. you can almost also feel his abs under the fabric of his uniform. when you trail your eyes lower, you see daichi’s dick outline. he’s thick and hard, and the image of it had you drooling.

“staring too long can get you in trouble, y’know,” daichi says.

you smirk at him and reach down to palm his cock. his breath hitches at the contact. “what are you going to do about it, officer?”

daichi groans. he sits up and takes your hands before hooking on the cuffs. daichi admires how vulnerable you are in a situation. using his cuffs isn’t a strange thing. you both do it once in a while. but ever since daichi has been busy, there has been slim chances. now was a great opportunity.

daichi picks up your—technically his—shirt and presses it to your lips. “bite,” he demands.

you obey him. daichi smiles at your willingness and nearly crumbles when he notices your dark, lust-filled eyes. jesus, he could already come in his pants. he gulps and leans forward to kiss your cheek. it’s a small sign to tell you that you can say stop whenever you want to.

daichi lets his eyes trail down your figure—the figure he’s loved for many years. he appreciates your beauty before he dips down to capture a nipple into his mouth. you gasp at the warm contact and the shirt falls.

daichi looks up and takes the shirt and presses it between your lips again. “if it falls one more time, i’m gonna have to punish you. clear?”

you nod and say yes, but it comes out stifled because of the shirt.

“good girl.”

[eddieshellfxre]

How can I resist

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Eddie and y/n have always had a comfortable and flirtatious friendship, but i guess it all comes down with a little alcohol and leather

Content: 18+ unprotected PiV sex, creampie, swearing, alcohol, smut, kink

a/n i have been gone for so long, but i took advantage that im on bed rest to finish up this one that ive had in my drafts for a while.

reblog and like if you do ♡

masterlist

Tuesday night, like any other Tuesday night it was Corroded Coffin night, with that your best friend Eddie always picked you up, and like always you were running late when you hear the doorbell ring

“shit shit” you say worried “mom can you please open its Eddie, i just got out of the shower” you hear the door close downstairs and try to find a towel big enough to wrap your body in, you manage to find one but it barely covers your ass cheeks. You run to your room to find Eddie already there “hi, im so sorry i’m late, ill be quick i promise” you kiss him on the cheek and run to your walk in closet

“its alright we got time, i was just bored at home…. Decided to drop by early” he pauses looking at the clothes you have displayed on your bed, alongside it your bra and panties “damn” he whispers as he stares at the lace lingerie set.

“oh but still i dont want you to be late. Ill just get dressed and do my makeup” You run back to your room still in nothing but your towel and grab your clothes and underwear. Eddie lays down on your bed, resting on his elbows waiting for you.

You get your bra on and panties, and put on some new black leather pants, you stare at your self in the mirror and notice that the outline of your panties shows up in the tight pants “fuck it” you remove your leather pants and panties and decide to go commando, no one is gonna notice it anyway, and besides it looks way better. Top part you decide to pair it with a corset like top with some red detailing around the front. You try and tie it well but you can't do a knot behind your back “Eddie???” you call “i need your help, can you tie a knot behind my back please” you say as you walk back into your room. Eddie sits up straight once he sees you “what?” you ask as you notice he's not moving

“i—i nothing you just—you look great” he says nervously “c’mere ill help you” You turn your back to him, so he can tie the knot, Eddie totally wasn't aware of the big mirror in front of you, so he didnt hide the fact at he was completely starring at your ass, you blush at his reaction, butterflies go crazy in your stomach, you couldn't deny he had some type of effect on you but you tried your best to hide it “there you go sweets, all done”

“thank you, Eddie, all i need is my makeup” you walk over to your dresser and lean over it to do your eyeliner, once again noticing how Eddie is completely starring at you while sitting on your bed “you alright Eddie? You keep starring at me?” you point out

Eddie breaks his eye contact, cheeks flush red he says “i just think you should dress like this everyday, it looks—great”

“oh stop it, i look normal” you finish your makeup and put on your high-heeled boots “all set, what do you think?” you say while he takes your hand and twirls you around

“i think—“ he says pulling you in “you look hot” sliding his open palm down your back, resting just above the curve of your ass, “you’re not wearing any underwear are you?” he smirks

“i think you’ve stared at my ass for way too long sir, it's time to go”. It was comfortable with Eddie, you have known him all your life, you know absolutely everything about each other, the flirtatious conversations were just part of your friendship, none of you ever acted upon it. you let go of his hold and grab his hand and make your way to his van.

The ride to the Hideout was short, especially with Eddie driving. You arrive there with Eddie’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close, you walk up to the bar

“hi Betty” you greet the bartender

“hi y/n, sup Munson you ready for tonight? heard the turn up is pretty big” she says “the usual im presuming? Beer and a whiskey for the lady?” you give her a smile and a wink as she pours you a glass of whiskey.

You look over at Eddie and see he's a bit restless

“you alright Eds?” you ask

“yeah, no im—yeah im fine im just a bit nervous tonight thats all” he takes a sip of his beer and looks at his watch “im gonna go on in like 15 minutes i need to get ready, so let's do a check” he says placing his hands at your hips

“alright then” you start saying as you begin your weekly routine ritual “teeth? Check hair? Check! You’re good to go Munson, give ‘em hell” you pull him in for a quick peck on the lips as always, his hands clenched together at your touch, you tried to make nothing of it, since it was a normal thing you always did, it was sort of good luck kiss. He gives you a wink and walks away, no one could deny the grip he had on you didnt make you absolutely melt but—

“you guys make such a cute couple” Betty says interrupting your train of thought

“we’re not a couple Betty, we’re best friends”

“honey, the way he looks at you all the time isn't just friendly, besides what kind of friends kiss each other holding onto you like that?” she laughs

“best friends! it's a good luck ritual we’ve always done, before any big event in our lives… its no big deal” you excuse yourself. Betty laughs and goes on to attend other customers. Shortly after you see Robin and Steve enter the venue, you wave at them as they make their way to you

“dont you look hot” Robin says with a smile

“hi Robin, how are you?” you say politely

“no yeah you’re right Hi y/n….. You look fucking hot” she says smiling again

“hi Steve” you say with a hug

“hey sweetheart, has Eddie gone on yet?” he says

“he should be going up any minute now—there he is” you say smiling, your face absolutely lights up when you see him, god he’s beautiful! You smile at him, and he returns with a wink as usual. He made you feel special, always have!

Corroded Coffin started playing and everyone was just having the time of their lives, dancing and singing along! Eddie like usual kept his eye on you the entire time, god he's beautiful, you love staring at his fingers move quickly along the neck of the guitar… its hot As the show continued, you, Robin and Steve get to talking

“they are gravity defying!” Robin says, somehow the conversation turned to your boobs “literally cannot fit anything between them!! Look at how tight they are pressed together” she says to Steve

“im i may… im looking respectfully… but she's right” Steve says taking a shot straight after

“i bet i can fit a shot glass between them” you joke

“if you can, ill take a shot of it” Robin says with a smile, you laugh at her but decide to play the game.

You grab onto a shot glass and squeeze it between your boobs, far enough where it’s stable “Betty, give me something to pour” you say. Betty hand you a bottle of vodka and you pour it down “go on then, take the fucking shot” Robin seemed nervous, but she was down for it, you push your chest up, and she takes the shot glass with her mouth and drinks it up

“ah, i did it” she says pulling the weirdest face “most exciting thing that ever happened in my life” she laughs.

Steve was silent, no words no nothing, he just kept taking sips of his beer. He knew it would be pointless to say anything to Robin, she would just do it anyway!

The conversation continued, and the show came to and end, with that Eddie came straight to you after the show

“sooooo” he starts “how was it?” he says fixing his bangs

“you were so goooood!!! im so proud of you” you say giving him a hug

“Eddie i took a shot out of y/n’s boobs, it was awesome” Robin interrupts. Eddie quirks an eyebrow at the two of you. “with a shot glass might i add…. It was great you should try it” she says without thinking. Your mind went blank, she really needs to shut up sometimes.

“i—i dont think so” Eddie says nervously “its—its im alright”

“c’mon Munson, man up and do it”

“im alright with it, its just a shot”

“no make it interest…. Tequila shot! Lick the salt of her too” Robin says, a cheeky grin forming up on her face, she loves an uncomfortable situation.

This cannot be happening, how were you gonna control yourself. Betty pours the tequila in the shot glass between your boobs, and sprinkles the salt from your chest to your neck, handing you a slice of lime

“you ready Munson?” he nods as he holds onto your waist with both hands, just this alone made you weak already, he lowers his mouth to the glass taking it and drinking up the liquid pulling you in closer you feel his tongue lick the salt from your chest, your eyes close as you feel his tongue licking the salt of your chest, you can't help you let soft moan escape, hoping Eddie couldn’t hear but the way he squeezed your hips made you think otherwise, you didnt know what to do, you were getting nervous and felt like things were getting out of hand “lime?” you ask with a smile, handing him the slice. He bites it never breaking eye contact with you. His hold on you became tighter and tighter as the tension between the two of you grew

“excuse me but like get a room” Gareth says “we’re gonna head out you guys are staying? Wanna grab a bite” you both nod your heads yes and make your way of the venue with the rest of the band following right behind.

On your way to Eddie’s van was pretty much normal until you were actually alone in it

“did it weird you out?” you ask in a hush tone, afraid to know the answer

“no, did it weird you out?” he asks

“no!! im comfortable with you i dont care, besides we give each other a peck on the lips all the tim—its no big deal” you say looking away. Eddie drives up to this diner in the middle on nowhere, everyone was already parked there. You take a seat on Eddie’s lap, his hands straight up to meet your hips, holding you in place

“just please dont move” he laughs “for the love of god dont move”

“im sorry, these pants are slippery against your jeans, im trying” you whisper. You try your best to keep your posture but it keeps getting harder…. Everything! Feeling his bulge press into your ass you knew he had to be worked up already. You try to ignore it, it wasn't the first time it happened but this time felt different… why did it kinda feel good? what was happening? this is ridiculous, maybe its just the booze getting to you…. Both of you

The cold Hawkins night breeze was getting to you, you cross your arms to cover yourself from the cold

“you cold?” Eddie asks

“yeah a bit”

“here take my jacket”

“but then you’ll be cold”

“not with you on top of me” you blush and get his jacket on “looks better on you than it does on me” his hands sliding down to your thighs “keep still” he says in a serious tone.

Not long before everyone was done with their food and drives off, you and Eddie do the same.

Arriving at your door the tension kept growing

“you wanna come in for coffee or something?”

“Bit late for coffee dont you think?” he laughs

“just—shut up”

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time you walked up to your room, you still dont know what is happening but you dont really mind it…. i mean its Eddie.

You walk in and Eddie is already making himself comfortable while you try to untie the knot behind your back

“Eddie help me out, i cant get this knot out” you say, pulling your hair over to one side, exposing your neck to him, he helps you untie the knot and starts kissing your shoulder “Eddie?! what are you doing” you ask nervously

“if you dont want this, tell me right now and ill stop” His voice comes from right behind you, big hands gripping your hips to pull you against him, continuing to place sloppy kisses along your neck ” you smell so fucking good”

“Eddie i dont think we—“

“should be doing this? Why we already kiss all the time dont we?” he says mocking your earlier words. Hands on your hips he turns you around, you smile at the ground as you feel his index under your chin, raising for face to his “give me one good reason as to why this is wrong?”

“It could ruin us Eddie i dont want that”

The space between the two of you closes as you feel his lips onto yours, but not like the other times, it’s different!! Its needy, its hot. what began a soft gentle kiss quickly became a clash of teeth and tongue. You feel a smirk forming against your lips once he realizes you’re pulling him closer to you

“you’re that needy huh?” he whispers, next thing you know he's got your bent over your bed while he's standing behind you “fuck you’re hot” he lets out in a sigh, hands straight to your ass, slapping the leather on it slide up, reaching the band of your pants and pulling them down, totally exposing your self to him “oh babyyyy” he whines “i totally forgot you were commando” he lets out a moan, biting his lip. You feel two fingers running up your slit, collecting your juices, your head falls forward at the feeling of his fingers rubbing small circles at your bud, you moan out load when he inserts two fingers inside you, curling them to hit just the right spot to make you absolutely mental “come on princess let me hear you fall apart” he says fingering you from behind

You try to make words come out but your mind is blank as soon as he kneels down behind your and you feel his tongue flat against your pussy

“ohmygodddd” you mewl as he continues to eat you “ohmy—yes just like that” , all these new sensations are overwhelming, no one has ever made you feel like this. His large hands both on your ass, spreading your legs wider

“hmmm baby, you taste so good” he says against you, vibrations of his voice making you go feral

“Ed—Eddie? fuck me, fuck me haaaaard” you manage to say, his mind freezes but his body takes full control, reaching for his belt, undoing his jeans. It doesn't take long until you feel the tip of his dick

“you sure baby? this isn't like kissing” he says smiling, teasing your hole with his dick. You turn your head giving him a serious look “fuckkkkk, you're so tight baby” his head falls back as he feels you tight around him “so good for me” You moan as you adjust to him inside you “it feels so good” he says as he slides in and out of you harder and harder

Your moans fill the room a little too much, you reach out to grab a pillow and sink your face on it to muffle out the sound

His arm snakes around your waist, his middle finger coming in contact with your clit “come for me beautiful” he starts rubbing you in circles, while thrusting in and out of you relentlessly, the knot building up in your stomach soon to be undone begins to gain more and more pressure

“im—im close” you let out softly “ohmygo—now fuckfuckfuck” Eddie thrusts into you a couple more times before pulling out, you soon feel a warm substance coat your ass

“that…. was amazing!! jesus christ” he says falling onto the bed next to you, you continue silent as you try to catch your breath “was it alright for you? Did i hurt you?” he asks sitting up worried.

“It was amazing Eddie” you laugh “im just trying to catch my breath thats all”

“ohh, oh thats cool”

“also…. Can you grab me a towel or something?” you ask shying away “and clean… you know…” your crunch your nose, trying your best not to laugh, he's so out of it its cute

“yes im so sorry, i didnt know if i could come ins— sorry be right back” he gets up and grabs a towel that was left on the floor from your shower earlier, he cleans you up gently and helps you stand up.

You were both so nervous, you have never acted upon your feelings for each other, it felt comfortable but still nerve racking

“thank you, Eddie” you smile, reaching up to his face kissing him, his hands snaking around you hold you close to him, you break away smiling” want coffee?” he replies with a smile, kissing you.

[delunesnumberonefan]

sketch time

you will sit down. you will look at my horrible little women. And You Will Appreciate Them

no this is NOT going under a cut you will see the blood sweat and tears i put into belialah's demon form and you will appreciate it, me, and saskia's off the charts world class monsterfucker status

we got saskia. we're familiar with saskia--or at least you should be. go look at the art by korppipoika and give them so many notes--this post will wait. and while you're out, look at the post about the matriarchs too. and if you're not up to date on saskia and belialah, here's another one for your list. i'll be here when you get back.

up to date? excited? horny? me too!!

so we got those two. in order for the images: saskia (recent), belialah (first draft, still happy with this and haven't been able to capture this vision since)

we got their dynamic:

saskia being a bitch and belialah being, despite everything, head over heels. still can't quite nail belialah's human face, but we're learning

...it took me a long time to nail down belialah's demon form. it went through a lot of drafts---many of which i am not sharing. this one is the oldest one i'm willing to share:

i believe this is draft 3? patch notes from earlier drafts: 4 fingers instead of three, took out "humanoid" eyes, added floaty halo bits. other than that, this is what it's mostly stayed true to. chase gave me an inspo and i remixed it and made it worse because i love body horror. so we have this! extra joint between the wrist and elbow, loads and loads of eyes, sharp teeth (yum!), wings, and a broken halo plus the big horn. love her. she has spider legs below her waist--she has "skirts" that are made from her skin that she usually wears (has?) over them.

made some eensy sketches for ideas:

i tinkered on size, proportion, posture, etc. it's vague, but not exact for either of them. i want a bigger height difference and this is for me first and foremost

i settled on this body type for saskia:

no nipples so she's not naked :) this is for anatomy reference, tumblr. ANATOMY. be so nice to me ;-;

ignore the stuff at the edges, this is part of a larger project idk if i'll finish where i look at all the matriarchs and their body types. saskia is the most...well, besides ethalind, the most hourglass shape. this is the most recent drawing of her i have besides the one at the very end, this is the one i would say is most canon. hence why it is included--the last one i have doesn't quite hit right for me. still working on consistency.

as i improved my art, i wanted to take another stab at belialah. which meant figuring out her lower half.

i did these ones reeaaally recently. i looked at so many things for inspo: crabs, spiders, human pelvises, centaur speculative biology, drider speculative biology, an introspective look at how much of a monsterfucker i am, etc. until i found something i was happy with. these are within the last few days. the lil sketches at the far bottom right of the first page are what i settled on. after that, i tinkered with how she looks with skirts vs no skirts---ignore the sword, it's no longer accurate to what it actually looks like, but that's endgame shit and no spoilers :)

i'm really happy with how she's turned out and i think she's kickass and awesome and i can't wait to beat her and saskia into the ground.

and then we have:

team gaslight gatekeep girlboss :)

i drew this last night!! really happy with how my art is coming along. i hesitated on whether to draw the skirts, because i think the spider legs are so fucking cool and i know logically the skirts are there but tbh its funner drawing the spider legs than the skirts :(

i want to make it very clear: belialah is submissive in the way a guard dog is submissive, to quote a post i once tagged as gilt and lost. belialah is loyal, devoted, willing to protect--but will wait for an order before acting

btw, to make something else clear: saskia? saw the demon form first. is more attracted to the demon form than the human form. is far more willing to smash with belialah in demon form. i love my weirdest little freak of a woman <3

ok that's all bye

[valeffelees]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

thank you kindly for tagging me @shrekgogurt @youarenevertooold, and @monbons i've been seeing this game make its rounds on my dash and was really hoping someone would pull me in!

🦈 Tell us the name of one of your WIP(s)

my main three wips at the moment are without sun, ballad of the final sparrow, which is more commonly known as bitverse, and fragile things (and how to break them), but i've also been fucking around a bit the last two or three weeks with a new (terrible, evil, very self-indulgent) wip called god-forbid.

🍄 Describe one of your WIPs in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

i think i might be dumb bc i don't understand this question at all.

🌍 What tags or warnings will your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

bitverse: heavy angst, psychological horror elements, alcohol abuse, allusions to suicide, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dead dove: do not eat.

🧭 An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

ballad of the final sparrow -> baz is typing fragile things (and how to break them) -> there's a werewolf in london god-forbid -> the gap between a tragedy and comedy

⚠️ Which WIP you’re most likely to finish or update next?

i have no idea. i mean, you'd think the answer would be without sun since it's the only fic i actually have posted at the moment, but unfortunately i am an untrustworthy villain.

💾 What is the document of your WIP called? (Not the story title, but what you’ve saved it as.)

same as the fic title. if i start a new wip and don't know what to call it, i'll pick something at random and add (working title) at the end.

🖍 Post any sentence from your WIP

from without sun:

“You don’t like peppermint,” he says. But maybe she does. Maybe that’s one more thing he can add to his growing list of things he got wrong about Agatha Wellbelove. No. 1 — Dislikes peppermint; actually, she is quite fond of it. No. 2 — Likes Simon Snow; him, not so much.

♻️ A scrapped idea for your current WIP

one of the biggest changes i made to the plot of without sun really early on was penelope's role in the story. i had a clear idea of the story i wanted to tell as soon as i saw the prompt for the fic. without sun was always supposed to be about more than simon and baz. the story is about grief and love, and the space we take up in the lives of the people around us. but n e way, in my orig draft, penny was actually supposed to be able to communicate with simon a bit, and there was gonna be a whole sect of scenes in the middle of the fic where they sat around together trying to break simon's curse what we know and what we don't know style via passing notes. i ended up tossing this idea really quickly tho, and i'm glad i did bc one of my favourite moments i've ever written in any fic happens in chapter two of without sun and it belongs to simon and penny.

🤔 What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

so many. or, well—what counts as "haven't even started"? i hate to let ideas sit around in my head bc it feels like leaving raspberries in the fridge for too long, like that shit is gonna get mould on it, so usually the first thing i do is rough out a few scenes and/or script out a very rough outline of the plot (like this / this / this style) so that i have something to come back to later. i have dozens of zero drafts just lying tf around. but otherwise, yeah, so many. one big idea i have is called heart on fire and it's based on fanart, but i haven't started it yet bc obvs i wanna get permission from the artist first but i've been holding off reaching out to them about it until i've knocked a few of my less intimidating longfics off my wip list bc heart on fire is gonna fucking hefty so i don't wanna give'r until i'm sure i can manage it.

🤡 How many WIPs are you actively working on?

LMFAO

🛠 Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

i'm having a real bitch of a time with agatha's main scene in chapter two of without sun, i've been fighting with it on and off for months, but i can't get it to do what i want it to do.

❤️ Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

cheers!

sorry for any doubles but, tagging: @drowninginships @cosmicalart @that-disabled-princess @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @artsyunderstudy @thewholelemon @roomwithanopenfire @hushed-chorus @blackberrysummerblog @imagineacoolusername @nightimedreamersworld @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @mooncello and an open tag for anybody else who wants to procrastinate their wips!

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi, writing motivation anon! 🩵

i am talking about fanfic, yeah! i dont think all the self help books in the world would help me with original fiction lol its just really frustrating because if i dont force myself, at least a little bit, i will literally never write anything, even though i want to so, so badly. if i dont want to do something nothing in the world can get me to without like immediate and detrimental consequences if i dont do it, even when they're things i do actually want to do? i have so many plots just collecting dust and its killing me not being able to do anything with them, and the thought of giving them away gives me major ick, but i just cant bring myself to actually write a sentence of any of it anymore.

i used to do a lot of partner writing and it is fun but i get a little too distracted to be productive with it, not to mention my social circle is practically non existent at this point. ive done the work on forming good habits and bettering my environment and working on my mental state and while its definitely improved a lot of other parts of my life (which i am not complaining about even though i kind of want to just to do it - taking actual care of yourself, it actually works. who would have thought? crazy), it hasn't penetrated the motivation wall yet.

i think one of my main issues is the perfectionism. i think its mostly subconscious because i dont really realize what im doing until trying to write becomes too frustrating to keep trying. ive never been good at rough drafts and fine tuning and reworking, like if its not to subconscious perfect standards i cant move on until it is or i give up entirely. im not sure how to get over that. its like if its not done right the first try, i immediately feel like its a failure and a worthless endeavor that isn't worth the effort. i think a lot that has to do with other people's perception of my work as well, like its totally fine (not really) for me to have an unfinished doc sitting around that only i can see and wallow over, but if i power through, finish it, and post it than suddenly its out there for so many people to pick apart and see where i, and the fic, am lacking. its scary, i don't know how i used to put myself out there like that before.

sorry this got really long winded really quickly. i wish my yapping capabilities would extend to writing, but unfortunately its a talent only useful in terrorizing fellow humans with walls of words. absolutely tell me to fuck off if im babbling entirely too much for you lol

Hi!!

I completely understand the perfectionism thing. Have you tried writing microfics? Sometimes I find them easier, especially when I’m stuck, because they’re small and less to take on at once, you know?

Sending you all the good writing vibes!

[ghostlysenses]

Dont get attached

Tommyinnit x reader platonic

this has been in my drafts for months, i finished it right before I had left, but now im back and I thought I might as well post it c:

TW: ANGST! Death!

enjoy!!

It had happened

the thing he dreaded so much

he got attached

he couldn’t help it

who can?

You were so nice, you treated him like a real person, you had cared about him and him you, you listened!

He could go on and on

but then

something happened

the thing he dreaded the most

he got exiled, he got exiled and there was nothing he could do about it.

Dream had took on a boat and to far, FAR away place.

he couldnt reach you, he couldnt see you, and there was no way he could he hear you.

during his time in exile the only thing he could think about was how you would be comforting him, telling him he’s okay and that everything will turn out fine.

and there were nights where he wished on all the stars that you would come and visit him.

But

you never did

Tommy was so mad

he had gotten attached and the person who he cared for so much and who he thought cared about him

hadnt even visited him

he was angry

when he went to technos

he decided to live there under his floors in a small cave he made himself

of course techno found him and decided to help him.

Him and techno came up with an amazing scheme to help him get back into lmanburg

but even then dreamed seemed to stick around

He had confronted everyone at the community center but

he couldnt find

you.

Where we’re you?

why did nobody know where you were?

what was going on?

He didn’t know how long it would be until he saw you again, but he decided he didnt need you anymore anyways, you clearly didnt care about him so why should he care about you?

During the war afterwords he didnt even see a glimpse of you, through all the rubble and mist he couldn’t find you.

He had thought you had just left one day, gone to a different place

but he was wrong

at some point tommy gave up on finding you, he stopped looking, stopped caring.

It seemed as though you never existed in the first place.

The disc war came and it was time for tommy and tubbo to go.

this was the first time in a long time that you had crossed his mind.

he didnt know why you didnt even come to say goodbye before his potential death, but he shook that thought out of his head and went on.

Him and tubbo fought

it was bloody

it was gruesome

but then a plot twist happened

and dream had took them to some kind of dungeon

where he kept everyones most important things

as they entered they looked around and saw rows of things that people had just deemed ‘missing’ and then he saw the most scariest thing of all

You

You were stuck behind bars, sitting in a small room.

you looked tired, beaten, and frankly

it broke his heart

you hadn’t left him, or gone missing, or went somewhere else.

you were stuck here

trapped

and he knew what it was like to be stuck with dream

and he was fucking pissed

He and tubbo went up to dream, angry, mad.

thats when dream revealed his weapon

“keep acting out tommy” he said in a low voice

he had gone up to a secret door and then came out with you

a fist in your hair as he dragged you out

he grabbed a hold of your chin

“and ill fucking kill them”

Tommy was scared, he didnt know what to do

“you fucking bastard” he said roughly

“what the hell did you do to them?!” tubbo shouted

“I took control! i did what i had too!” dream laughed as he pulled you closer

“now its either tubbo, or her and the discs, pick”

Tommy was shocked at dreams words

“Pick me! come on tommy we have to get her out of here”

Tommy was conflicted

“tick tock tommy!” dream yelled

“i-“ he couldnt even muster any words, what could he say?

“tommy please! you deserve the discs! and they deserve to be free! ill be fine” tubbo kept trying to beg him

you on the other hand were silent as a rock, nobody blamed you, you’re whole body was in shock and so were you

All tommy could do was think right now and dream was an impatient motherfucker

“fuck it, times up tommy”

“No no!! wait!”

and just like that a sword was in your stomach

ironic

as soon as you were stabbed everyone had arrived

and god was it a sight to see

Dreams sword in your stomach

It didnt even take a second for everyone to run up and get dream off you and all he did was laugh

You started falling to the ground

tommy caught you in his arms

shouting your name

“Y/N!!! Y/N!!! Stay with me!!! come on!!”

There was no way in gods given HELL you were going to die in his arms especially right after seeing you again for the first time in months!

Punz ran over and kneeled down

he grabbed a healing potion and put on the wound and then had you drink some

it hardly worked you were still weak but it gave you a few more minutes of life…

You looked up at tommy

“hey…its been awhile huh?” you laugh a bit

he just smiles and hugs you, tears pouring

Punz is screams that they need more healing

You smiled “Im gonna be okay tommy, ill come back, one day”

he cries harder

You died in his arms that day

afterwords dream was sent to prison

and tommy learned a valuable life lesson

never

get

attached.

[bi-bats]

hello!! i was just wondering, since the damitim fic is ongoing, does this mean know yourself updates are slowed/paused? (not a complaint i’m loving both!!)

Hiya!! Sorry that I never give easy answers 😂

So yes, Know Yourself updates are slower (not paused or on hiatus!! I am working on it still), but it's not because of the DamiTim fic.

I've been writing Know Yourself for over a year now (even though I haven't been posting it that long) and I'm just struggling with getting the words on the page to be what I want them to be. The plot is sorted out and I'm content with what I'm going to make happen, but also when I think about the fic my brain starts to feel the way my eyes do when I stare at a screen too long 😂 so I'm trying to be patient with myself and let myself take my time with it instead of pushing something out that I'm really not happy with, because 1) I think it'll show, 2) I'll just burn myself out, and 3) if I treat it like a chore it'll never get finished.

Also I've realized (post-jaytimweek) that I prefer writing in present tense, it makes everything feel more natural to me and I can control some writing things like timing and flow a little better and I WROTE OVER 100K WORDS IN PAST TENSE FOR THAT FIC AND I'M NOT FUCKING SWITCHING NOW!!!! SO I GUESS I GOTTA FINISH IT IN PAST TENSE!!!!

And also we're at the point in the plot of Know Yourself where I'm really stepping on the gas on the number of things happening per chapter, and the chapters are overwhelmingly long. And I would love to simply be more brief, but everything happening is relevant to the plot, so. Sigh.

Now, the DamiTim fic.

That one is just going up because that fic is happening to me. I can't prevent that fic from occurring. I would love to think about something else, actually! That boy is so unwell! But that's what I'm feeling inspired about and lately I've only been able to write when something worms into my brain and I have to put it on the page immediately no matter where I am or what I'm doing (I have a newish manager who doesn't know how to write a schedule, so I'm currently on day 7 of a ten day stretch of work where I only had one day off, which I had to spend doing all my chores and then hosting D&D. So basically, gone are the days off where I could just sit at my computer and write for a day 😭😭😭).

Also, Ive been having problems with Know Yourself since May, but the DamiTim fic is just fucking pouring out of me fugue state style. My brain hasn't latched onto DamiTim and released Know Yourself in favor of it, it's that the claws of Know Yourself began to unsink from my flesh like, 2 months ago and DamiTim saw its chance. Like, this isn't about to be a cute analogy, but I feel like I'm vomiting out the DamiTim fic because it's a virus. It can't be in my brain anymore okay? I need it out. And it feels like a shame to have like, almost 40k words of it written and just sitting in my drafts when I could be updating it (which I'm sure you appreciate if you're loving that one too 😂), and it has the added benefit of yall knowing I haven't abandoned the fandom/preventing yall from thinking that something horrible has happened to me!

Tldr/to reiterate: yes I'm slowing down on Know Yourself, but it's not because of any of the other chaptered fics I'm working on.

Anyways, sorry this got long and ranty, I think I needed to vent all this out anyways so thank you for giving me a chance to do that!! And also thank you for phrasing your ask the way you did, I really appreciate you specifying that you're not complaining 😂 this is a valid question (that did not upset me but could've if the phrasing was different) and I didn't feel pressured so thank you!!! Ily anon 💕💖💚

[mirrortouchedsea]

okay so. its been a week. i didn't write fuck all last week because i kind of hit a wall and crashed and burned etc. i do have some things i do want to post soonish that just need to be polished a little bit and i'm hoping to actually polish them so they're a bit nicer than the rough drafts from the past 3 weeks.

coming soon will be my big bang fic which will be Quite Long compared to most things i've written recently, as well as a few smaller aforementioned things that just need to be touched up a bit. i'm still going to try and work on some of my bigger wips a bit more so posting will be inconsistent but i also want to do like... a weekly requests thing as well as maybe try to do some wip wednesdays? it might help to motivate me to work on the bigger projects. i hope.

anyway. i'm still quite happy i wrote as much as i did for three weeks straight essentially and just kind of flexed those muscles even if it was just 200 words of silly 2012 quotev quiz nonsense. it was really fun coming up with the different fics and ideas and whatnot and while i do not think i will be doing another challenge like that any time soon, i'm hoping i can continue to experiment with things and have fun. i've been doing a lot of reading recently too (finished the last 200 pages of a book last wednesday in one sitting... oops) which will almost certainly impact my writing style and ideas i come up with. so look forward to that i suppose.

that is all i have for this little update post for nowwwww but thank you all for tagging along and hope to see you later o7

[marblemoovt]

Tattoo - Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Fluff. A bit of angst cause Chrissy is a traumatized bean. Mentions of ED and abuse.

Summary:

Chrissy decides to get a tattoo, and who better to accompany her than her boyfriend, Eddie?

A submission for Hellcheer Fest. Prompt: "Take me to get a tattoo."

------

“It’s only a tattoo, sweetheart.” Eddie winces at his poor choice of words, but Chrissy understands what he’s trying to say. She bites her lip to prevent the tears from spilling.

“Yeah, but my mom can be… overwhelming.” Chrissy knows that ‘overwhelming’ is an understatement. Words cannot express how terrible her mother is, but Chrissy’s learning to vocalize it.

Eddie smiles wryly and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he says. His shoulder receives a playful smack from Chrissy. He gasps and dramatically throws his shoulder back. She giggles, and he grins so much that his cheeks hurt. “No, but seriously, Chris. Fuck Laura Cunningham.”

“Eddie!” Chrissy gasps.

“You’re right. That’s a bit too bold for your first tattoo. Maybe for your second one, then. I’m thinking right across the forehead would be good.” His face nearly splits in half at how comically wide her eyes grow.

Note:

Welcome to my debut in the Stranger Things fandom! I wanted to write something for Eddie and Chrissy after seeing their chemistry in the first episode of season four, and when I saw there was a hellcheer fest, I immediately knew I had to participate! This fic has honestly been sitting in my drafts for too long and, like most of my fic do, grew monstrously in its word count.

This was really fun for me to write, and I encourage you all to check out all the other submissions! Link to Hellcheer Fest

Warning!!! There are mentions of EDs and abuse. I only delve into Chrissy's struggles in this fic if that gives you a better idea of what to expect. This is mainly fluff but our two beans are still recovering from their traumas, so please exercise caution when reading if any of those topics are triggers for you.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Nervous?” Eddie asks, holding Chrissy’s hand while her other arm is prepped for tattooing. She hums and shakes her head, strawberry-blonde locks whipping around her face. He tucks some of her hair behind her ear to unveil her beaming smile. He doesn’t comment on how she’s holding his hand tighter than usual. 

“Just excited for my first tattoo. My parents—well, you know how they are.” Chrissy doesn’t need to finish because Eddie knows all too well what her parents are like. 

“Ah yes, the pool party incident of ‘86.” Eddie looks away into the distance and pretends to reminisce. He turns back to her and grins wolfishly. “Your mother is much more agreeable when she’s unconscious,” referring to how Laura Cunningham fainted when she saw his assortment of tattoos. 

Chrissy giggles. “My mother was convinced they were satanic symbols embedded into your skin. And the lecture she gave me when I called them your ‘sweet ol’ tatties.’” Chrissy shakes her head and bites her lip to contain her laughter. She’s already been scolded for moving too much. “‘Christina Cunningham, how dare you invite that Munson boy and allow him to brandish his dark marks,’” Chrissy mocks in her best Laura impression. 

“Dark marks? Sounds like something an evil wizard would have.” Eddie makes a mental note to incorporate the idea into a campaign. Before he can brainstorm further, Chrissy squeezes his hand and smiles cheekily at him.

“You can add dark sorcerer to your resume,” she says. He snorts and kisses the crown of her head.

“Ah yes, my ever-growing list. I’ll add it right under cult leader.” He sticks his tongue out, but with only one hand, his devil face looks ridiculous with a missing horn. It works as intended when Chrissy grins at him, her lips curling upward in amusement.

“I see you’re a man of many talents.” Chrissy plays with the sleeve of his jacket, rubbing the leather between her fingers.

“What can I say? I’m multi-faceted.” Eddie studies her expression and grins. By now, her cheeks are rosy and glowing. She tugs on his hand and avoids his gaze, lips pursed in thought. He waits patiently and rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. She turns to look up at him through her long lashes.

“Hey, Eddie? Thanks for not freaking out earlier.” Her tone is borderline apologetic, and it makes Eddie frown. He crouches down so they’re at eye level and holds her hand in both of his. His hands are so warm, and they swallow her dainty hand. Safe. Eddie makes her feel safe. 

“It’s only a tattoo, sweetheart.” Eddie winces at his poor choice of words, but Chrissy understands what he’s trying to say. She bites her lip to prevent the tears from spilling. 

“Yeah, but my mom can be… overwhelming.” Chrissy knows that ‘overwhelming’ is an understatement. Words cannot express how terrible her mother is, but Chrissy’s learning to vocalize it. 

Eddie smiles wryly and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he says. His shoulder receives a playful smack from Chrissy. He gasps and dramatically throws his shoulder back. She giggles, and he grins so much that his cheeks hurt. “No, but seriously, Chris. Fuck Laura Cunningham.”

“Eddie!” Chrissy gasps.

“You’re right. That’s a bit too bold for your first tattoo. Maybe for your second one, then. I’m thinking right across the forehead would be good.” His face nearly splits in half at how comically wide her eyes grow. 

“Oh my God, Eddie. She’ll kill me.” She knows he’s only teasing her, but the dread that fills her stomach at the thought of it is suffocating. Eddie notices her distress, and he brings a hand up to her cheek. She nuzzles into his touch and tries to focus on her breathing as her therapist taught her. Eddie joins her breathing exercise, and she squeezes his hand.

“You’re 18, princess,” he reminds her. She shakes her head slowly, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

“I still have to live with her.” She shudders. She graduated at the top of her class, valedictorian, honour roll. But none of that means anything to Laura Cunningham. All her mother could see was Chrissy quitting cheerleading, Chrissy breaking up with Jason Carver—who is ‘such a nice, upstanding man’—and Chrissy dating the local freak and drug dealer. Chrissy thinks the list is probably infinite; her mother will always find a fault.

Before she can spiral, Eddie brushes her tears away and kisses the corners of her eyes. “Only until the semester starts.” He stares into her eyes, and any trace of playfulness is gone. “You know my offer still stands, right?” She licks her lips and hesitantly opens her mouth.

“I don’t want to impose or be a nuisance.” She’s spent many nights at the trailer, but living there feels like a giant leap. Living there means that she’s ready to leave the old Chrissy behind. While she hasn’t been the ‘old Chrissy’ for months, it’s still a skeleton in her closet, a reminder of a life she never wants to return to.

Eddie knows about her struggles. He’s learned to not take it personally when she rejects his offers to help. “You’re always welcome. And you’ll never be a nuisance. Anyone who’s told you that is full of shit. Wayne adores you, and I would love nothing more than to have you there.” Her lips twitch into a smile, and his chest swells with warmth.

“Later… when you….” Chrissy stumbles over her words, not used to asking others for help. She bites her lip and stares at the ceiling for a minute until she gains the courage to look Eddie in the eye.  “At—will you help me pack?” she manages to spit out. The grin on his face is full of joy, and it makes her regret not asking sooner.  

“Are you serious?” Eddie is over the moon. That little voice in his head snarls with doubt, but he ignores it. Chrissy's cheeks go dark, and he feels like he’s placed his hand on a heater.

“I am. Unless you’re rescinding your offer?” The disappointment in her big, blue eyes does critical damage to his heart.

“And miss out on going to bed with you in my arms every night? Not a chance, princess.”

Tiny, the tattoo artist, chuckles and mumbles something about young love. “If you two are done flirting, I’m going to outline the tattoo now.” Eddie drops his hand from Chrissy’s face, and she slams her back into the seat. The couple continue holding hands, hoping the buzz of the machine will fill the awkward silence as they wait for their embarrassment to cool down. Eddie focuses on Chrissy’s arm as ink is applied to her skin. He thinks back to a few days ago that led up to this moment.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“I can see the gears turning in your head, darling. What’s up?” Eddie asks. Chrissy looks at him with puppy eyes, the face she always makes when she wants something. Eddie munches on some cereal as he waits for her request.

“Take me to get a tattoo?”

Eddie nearly drops the spoon in his hand. He sets it down in the bowl and pushes his breakfast aside. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Her face scrunches up, and Eddie curses under his breath. He reaches across the table and places his hand on Chrissy’s. “I’m only making sure, Chris. They don’t exactly wash off.” 

She slowly lets out a breath and nods. “Yeah. Maybe just a small one to start?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. Got any ideas?”

Chrissy bites her lip and shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Should it be something important to me?” She mulls over what she would like permanently displayed on her skin. Eddie pats her hand and smiles encouragingly at her. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be,” Eddie tells her. His smile turns into a grin.  “You could tattoo ‘Fuck Laura Cunningham’—which would be metal. Although from the face you’re making, you don’t think the same.” Chrissy giggles, which becomes full-blown laughter when Eddie starts wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I think she would disown me if she ever saw that tattooed on my body,” she says, shivering at the thought. She can’t lie; a part of her really wants to do it. 

Eddie props his cheek against his hand, using his other to boop her nose. “You just gotta make sure she doesn’t see it then.” Chrissy wrinkles her nose and jerks her head back to avoid his next attempt. 

“I’m still not doing it.” She shakes her head and tries to hide her grin behind her hair. She decided to leave her hair down today, her usual scrunchie on her wrist. Eddie’s bottom lip is jutting out, and his eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. When she snickers, Eddie’s expression returns to normal with a smug smile. 

“Maybe some pom poms?” he suggests, waving an imaginary pom pom with one hand. Chrissy’s grin falters, and Eddie freezes. 

“I do like cheerleading, but it’s always been something my mom pressured me into. There aren’t a lot of good memories associated with it.” Chrissy thinks about her uniform, which always shrank. The disappointment in her mother’s tone when her spot at the top of the pyramid was taken. For a second, Chrissy can taste bile in the back of her throat, and she takes a deep breath to quell the incoming wave of nausea. Eddie squeezes her hand, and she grounds herself with his touch. 

“What about your favourite animal? Can’t go wrong with that.” Chrissy perks up at Eddie’s suggestion. There’s a sparkle in her eyes and a rosy glow on her cheeks. She fidgets in her seat, and Eddie has to stop himself from screaming over how adorable he finds her. 

“Don’t laugh but… Hey! I said not to laugh!” she chastises. Her cheeks immediately darken, and she tries to tug her hand back, but Eddie keeps a firm grip and places a kiss on it. She stops her movements and stares at the texture of the table. The notches in the wood are old, and there are some stains she would rather remain ignorant about. 

“I can’t help it, darling. You look so cute, all flushed and embarrassed,” Eddie teases. Chrissy lets out a whine in her throat and rests her forehead on the table. The oak feels cool against her skin. 

“Seals,” she says, her voice muffled by the table. Eddie hums and tries to remember what they look like. He’s probably seen one on tv; Wayne likes to leave the nature channel on as background noise. 

“Those creatures that look like giant bouncy balls when they’re on land?” Eddie chuckles, recalling how ridiculous they look, sliding and bouncing around the ground. 

Chrissy whips her head up and says in a defensive tone, “They’re big sea puppies! And they’ve got the cutest faces.” She gestures frantically with her hands, continuing to ramble about how adorable seals are. Eddie loves the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles and the little dimples that form around her mouth. 

“I don’t know, there’s a pretty cute face in front of me right now,” Eddie says. Chrissy pauses mid-ramble and narrows her eyes. 

“Are you calling me a seal?” Eddie shrugs and struggles to keep an indifferent expression on his face. He can feel Chrissy burning a hole into his head when he doesn’t respond immediately. His shoulders quiver. She might as well close her eyes if they narrow any further.

“No, I’m saying you’re cuter than one,” Eddie says, and Chrissy firmly shakes her head. 

“Then you’ve never seen a seal in person,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. Eddie hums and tilts his head.

“And you have?” Chrissy looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Of course I have!” she answers. Eddie stares at her in silence, and she clears her throat. “Once… when I was seven. My grandfather came to visit.” Sensing a story, Eddie hops off the stool and leads her to the couch and—oh! Can’t forget breakfast! He grabs his bowl of cereal and sits beside her, conscious of his munches as she continues talking. “I was being difficult because I really didn’t want to go to my gymnastics class, which drove my mom crazy. I was a lot younger, so my mom….” Chrissy lets out a bitter chuckle. “She wasn’t as mean as she is now.” She licks her lips and says, “and so he offered to take me because I always listened to him. My mom practically shoved me towards him and left to self-medicate. It made me wonder at the time why she wanted to get rid of me so badly.” 

Her eyes become glossy, and Eddie scoots closer and wraps an arm around her. His cereal is forgotten on the table, too soggy to be edible anyway. Anyone who enjoys soggy cereal is weird, and that’s coming from Eddie, the local ‘freak.’ He tries his best to soothe Chrissy, telling her how much he loves her and that he’s here for her. She looks him in the eyes, and his heart breaks. “Does she not love me? Why doesn’t she want me? Thoughts that no child should ever have.” Her voice cracks between sentences, and she brings a sleeve up to wipe her eyes. 

Eddie opens his arms, and Chrissy crawls into them. He strokes her hair, and she sniffles into his shoulder. Minutes pass, and she chokes out a laugh. “I remember sitting in the back of his truck, and nothing outside the window looked familiar. I told him that he was going the wrong way for my gymnastics. ‘I thought you didn’t want to go,’ he said. I told him I didn’t want to make my mom angrier. And he said, ‘it’s ok, I’ll handle your mother. I’m not taking you to gymnastics. We’re going on an adventure,’” she recalls with a smile. 

“Sounds like the best grandpa ever,” Eddie murmurs. 

Chrissy nods enthusiastically and giggles. “He was the best.” Eddie wipes a stray tear from her cheek. She takes in a deep breath, relaxing into his embrace. “We drove for what felt like forever until he pulled into a huge parking lot. I remember holding his hand as he led me to the ticket booth. He asked for two tickets to the aquarium, and I asked, ‘what’s an aquarium?’ ‘You’ll see,’ he told me and wouldn’t tell me more no matter how many questions I asked. And when we got inside…. Oh, Eddie.” She pauses in wonder, reliving the memory. Eddie makes a mental note to bring her to an aquarium in the future. “It was beautiful. I’ve never seen so much blue in my life—and it’s my favourite colour!” Her whole body is buzzing with excitement, and it’s incredibly infectious. Eddie can’t help but smile and nod as she continues talking.

“We saw all kinds of sea creatures, and I got to touch some of them!” She goes on to describe the different textures she felt. Some of the memories cause her face to scrunch up, which in turn causes Eddie to laugh and kiss her flushed cheeks. “Eventually, we went outdoors.” Chrissy pauses and grins. “And I remember being so short, and the railing was so tall.” She exaggerates the height difference with her hand gestures. “My grandfather picked me up onto his shoulders, and I saw seals for the first time. ‘Look, grandpa! There’s puppies in the water!’ He laughed so hard and told me what they were called. He even read to me those little plaques with the creature information, and I….” The smile on her face is radiant, and Eddie wants to burn it into his memory. “I hung onto every word about seals.”

Eddie kisses the top of her head and runs his hands up and down her arms. He touches Chrissy like she’s the most precious thing in the world because that’s what she is to him. “Tell me a fact, seal expert,” Eddie says with a smirk. Chrissy’s face lights up like this is the first time someone has asked her a question on a topic she loves. His hands dig a little deeper into her skin, and he tries not to frown. 

“Hmm, ok,” Chrissy hums as she tries to think of an interesting fact, letting out a small gasp when she remembers one. “Did you know that seals are one of the closest living relatives to bears?”

“No fucking way.” Eddie refuses to believe that those cute sea blobs are in any way related to bears. “You’re not trying to pull one over me, are you?” His fingers lightly skim over her stomach, and she giggles. 

“Are you the expert, or am I?” Chrissy smirks. Chrissy Cunningham just smirked at him. Where has she been hiding this confidence? 

Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle and rests his forehead against hers. “I don’t know. It’s been over ten years since you’ve seen one. Your knowledge might be outdated.”

She huffs. “You know, there are these fantastic things called books that contain information. They can be found in the library for the public to read,” Chrissy informs him.

“I know what books are, Cunningham. I just don’t read any of the non-fiction stuff.” The corners of Chrissy’s mouth curl up, and her eyebrows raise. It’s been a while since they were on a last-name basis. 

“Well, Munson, you should try it. Maybe you can debunk my facts next time.” Eddie pulls her close and plants a trail of kisses from her shoulder to her neck. Chrissy hums in approval and tilts her head. 

“If it’s something you like, I’ll read whatever you want me to. Maybe you can recommend one of those raunchy novels I found in your room.” Chrissy mentioned before how her grandfather used to read the Hobbit to her but that she hasn’t read the Lord of the Rings series yet. Unwilling to let this injustice continue, Eddie offered—forced—his copies to Chrissy. When he came over with the books, she directed him to the bookshelf in her room, and he took the liberty to peruse her literary tastes. He’ll never let her forget what he discovered that day. 

“Eddieeee!” She shoves him back with a whine. Eddie debates adding ‘Cherry’ to the list of nicknames he has for her. Chrissy pulls some of her hair forward to hide her face.

“In order to become a Chrissy expert, I need to expand my knowledge and research topics, no matter how dangerous, to accomplish my goal.” Eddie adjusts the nonexistent glasses he’s wearing. 

Chrissy snorts and slaps his chest lightheartedly. “You’re such a dork.”

Eddie chuckles and catches her hand, holding it to prevent further attacks. “Yeah, but you think it’s endearing,” he says. No matter how much she denies it, Eddie knows that his theatrics never fails to make her laugh. He keeps to himself how laughter is a good look on her. It’s definitely not the reason he acts like a goof half the time. Nope. Not at all.

“I do.” Chrissy bites her lips and begins playing with her hair. “So… tattoo?” She looks at him with those puppy eyes again, and Eddie has to lean against the couch for support. 

He swallows the lump in his throat and says, “Right, tattoos. I know a guy.” Eddie clears his throat and can’t help but smile at Chrissy’s focused expression. He tucks the strand of hair she’s been playing with behind her ear. “His studio is outside town, so you don’t have to worry about running into anyone.” As fun as it would be to run into her mother or Jason, Eddie doesn’t think the screaming match over tattoos would be worth it.

“Did he do all of your tattoos?” Chrissy asks, fingers grazing against the inked spider peeking out under the collar of his shirt. He shivers from her touch, and a pleased smile forms on Chrissy’s lips.

“Pretty much. Tiny’s got these rad pre-designed tattoos for a fair price, or you can order a custom one.” All of Eddie’s tattoos are custom. He was adamant about wanting something unique. He was involved in the design process as much as Tiny would allow, which wasn’t much, given his talent to annoy people. But his sweet ol’ tatties turned out great, so every year, he sees Tiny for a new tattoo. 

Chrissy laughs in disbelief. “I’m sorry, his name is Tiny? Is that… is that really his name?” Her expression is more curious than put-off. 

Eddie waggles a finger at her. “Don’t let the name fool you. Tiny’s built like a mountain, and he’s covered in tattoos. As far as his real name goes, no one knows. Tiny likes to keep people guessing.” Despite the intimidating description, Chrissy doesn’t feel afraid in the slightest. 

“Well, you weren’t how I thought you’d be, so maybe it’ll be the same with him.” Chrissy’s optimistic comment causes Eddie to smirk. 

“I think you’ll be sorely disappointed, sweetheart. I’m much more handsome and charming than Tiny—don’t tell him I said that.” He finishes with a panicked look in his eyes. 

A bit of rebellion stirs inside of Chrissy, and she grins devilishly. “Now I definitely have to tell him.”

“The betrayal! The deception!” Eddie brings a hand to his chest and clenches his shirt, letting out gasps and wheezes as his body eventually goes limp. He lolls his head against the couch and shuts his eyes, leaving his tongue to poke out of his mouth. He cracks open an eye and sees Chrissy frozen in shock. Then she bursts into a fit of giggles. “The beast is dying from a broken heart, and the fair maiden does not grieve but laughs,” Eddie laments. 

Chrissy shakes her head. “Maybe she laughs because she knows the beast can be cured with a kiss.” She plays along, enjoying how silly she can be around Eddie. 

Eddie shakes his head solemnly. “I don’t think one is nearly powerful enough.” Pretending to be gravely ill is extremely difficult when your entire body is trembling with repressed laughter. Eddie bites on the inside of his cheek when Chrissy beams at him. 

“Must be a terribly dark curse, then.” She tuts and pats his head like he’s some pitiful child. 

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah. A broken heart is pretty high up on the list. Don’t you know it’s the leading cause of death of beasts in love with pretty maidens? 9 out of 10 wizards recommend at least 5 kisses as treatment.” Chrissy hums and inspects his face. “What are you doing?” Eddie asks. 

“I’m trying to figure out where to place the kisses for maximum effect,” Chrissy answers. “Now, hold still. I can’t focus with you squirming.” Eddie sits there quietly. Chrissy has a chokehold on his attention right now. Maybe that’s why it feels difficult to breathe.

 “One.” She places a kiss on his forehead and counts out loud. 

“Two.” His cheek 

“Three.” His other cheek. 

“Four.” His chin. By now, Eddie is starting to feel lightheaded and floaty, better than any weed high. 

“Aaaand five.” She plants a final kiss on his lips.  

Eddie remains stunned until his body acts on impulse. “It lives!!” He sits up like a reanimated corpse. His arms wrap around Chrissy, and he playfully bites her shoulder. She giggles and fakes screams and sounds of distress like she’s in one of those cheesy horror films. Eddie pulls away, adoration etched into his features. 

“It’s a miracle!” Chrissy throws her arms up and returns the embrace, laughing until tears come out of her eyes. 

Eddie brushes away her tears with his thumb. Warmth blooms in his chest, and he smiles. “Christ, you’re adorable, Chris,” he says.

Chrissy shrugs and grins. “What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.”

“I like the sound of that,” Eddie says, hands resting on her waist and squeezing gently. Chrissy leans forward and brushes her lips against his. He can feel her warm breath on his face and waits for her to make the next move.

“You and me both,” Chrissy whispers into the small gap between them. Eddie holds his breath. Chrissy’s hands are cradling his face, and she’s stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. All the air in his lungs escapes in a long sigh when Chrissy pulls away. “Now that you’re no longer on the verge of death, lunch?” She looks at him with hopeful eyes, and Eddie can never deny her.

Eddie eyes the bowl of soggy cereal on the table. “Yeah. Benny’s? I’m craving some pancakes.”

Chrissy perks up at the suggestion. “Ooh, can we get the ones with berries and cream??”

Eddie stretches to place a kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” The smile she gives him melts his insides.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Can we go get pancakes after this?” Chrissy asks, barely flinching from the tattoo machine, which impresses Eddie. He definitely won’t be telling her how he teared up a little when he got his first tattoo. Tiny is finished with the outline and is now adding all the details and shading.

“With berries and cream?” Eddie asks, to which Chrissy answers with an enthusiastic nod. Her excitement is infectious. “Yeah! We’ll have a celebratory… brunch—is that what you fancy people call it?” Eddie doesn’t really understand the concept of brunch. Who decided to combine breakfast with lunch? He personally doesn’t associate specific times with his meals. If breakfast is the first meal of the day, then he’s had breakfast before at 12am—still technically his first meal. Eddie honestly thinks brunch is just an excuse for people to drink during the day without being scrutinized by others.

Chrissy’s voice brings him out of his reverie. “Former fancy person here, and brunch is more of a formal thing. At least the ones I attended growing up were.” Her nose scrunches up, and it looks like she just sucked on a lemon. Eddie knows there’s a country club on the outskirts of town where all the upper-class families play dress-up and pretend they’re better than everyone else.

“Then we’ll have frunch,” Eddie says, feeling quite proud of himself. If people can create names for mealtimes, then so can he.

Chrissy chortles. “You did not just make that up.”

Eddie grins. “I am a wordsmith, m’lady. Using my legendary powers, I have combined the word ‘freak’ with ‘brunch’.” He brings up both of his hands and smashes them together. “Thus creating ‘frunch.’”

“It sounds like you’re badly pronouncing the word ‘French,’” Chrissy points out. 

Eddie ignores the flaw in his naming choice and turns to Tiny. “Tiny, my good sir. Have you any knowledge of such an establishment that offers pancakes?”

“You are an idiot,” Tiny responds, not even looking up from Chrissy’s arm. From what Eddie can see, the tattoo is nearly done. The round face of a seal stares up at him; they are pretty cute, he has to admit.

“That wasn’t my question, but I thank you regardless for the compliment. No, but seriously. You know any places?” Eddie drops the facade. If Chrissy wants pancakes, then he’s making damn sure she gets ‘em. He feels Chrissy squeeze his arm, and he flashes her a reassuring smile.

Tiny jerks his head and says, “There’s a cafe a couple of miles up the road. They make killer pancakes.” The whirring of the machine stops. “You need to stay still, hun. I can’t make clean lines with you bouncing in your seat.”

Chrissy flushes and immediately stills her body. “I’m sorry, it’s just…. I’ve never been to a cafe before. Do you think they have cakes??” Her feet start to wiggle, and Eddie wonders if Chrissy has a supernatural ability to be cute; there’s no other explanation.

“I’ll ask to borrow their kitchen if they don’t,” Eddie says like it’s an entirely normal thing to do. He’s confident that he can charm his way in there. The awe on Chrissy’s face morphs into horror. 

“I wouldn’t survive the embarrassment,” Chrissy whispers. Her voice is low and solemn.

Eddie waves his hand. “You survived high school. The cafe will be a piece of cake, pun intended.” Chrissy giggles while Tiny groans.

“Tattoo’s done. Thank god because I can’t stand to be in this room any longer,” Tiny huffs and looks at Eddie with exasperation. Eddie knows he can be an annoying gremlin, but he thinks Tiny secretly likes it. Chrissy lets out a little gasp, and Eddie watches her reaction unfold.

“It’s so cute!” Chrissy gushes over her tattoo. She traces the shape of the seal; the skin is tender and red. “I love it so much!” Chrissy is a ball of sunshine right now, and Eddie is basking in her light. The baby seal on her arm is frankly adorable, and the flowers around it are a nice touch. Sure, it’s nothing like Eddie's tattoos, but the smile on Chrissy’s face is everything. Warm affection blooms in his chest, and he resists the urge to shower her with kisses, wanting to avoid further antagonizing Tiny. 

“Looks great, man. How much do I owe ya?” Eddie asks, reaching for his wallet. He has to stifle a laugh when Chrissy gapes at him with wide eyes.

“Oh no, Eddie. I can pay for this.” Chrissy reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bundle of cash. Every birthday and holiday, she sets some money aside to buy things she wants. She remembers how careful she had to be about buying anything that would be visible to the public eye. Cassettes and books were always a safe bet if she hid them well enough, but anything worn would be scrutinized by Laura. Every article of clothing would come back smaller from the laundry because ‘sometimes clothes just shrink in the wash, and if they didn’t, then you must be getting fat.’ Some of her accessories or makeup would vanish under the pretense that it’s not ‘appropriate’ for her to wear. ‘How embarrassed would Jason feel standing next to a tramp?’’ Laura’s words are venom dripping into Chrissy’s ears. 

Sometimes Chrissy will stare at the garden in their front yard, watching Laura fret over the weeds that are suffocating her precious plants. Every flower and bush is meticulously trimmed. If a seedling isn’t up to standard, it’s ripped out of the soil and tossed into the compost. Often times there is nothing wrong with the flower. Chrissy thinks it’s still beautiful; Laura thinks it’s a disgrace. Even if the flower appears without flaws, Laura will always find something wrong with it—find some way it could be better. Chrissy doesn’t want to dwell on these thoughts much longer. She has a tattoo now, a permanent mark inked into her skin for the world to see. And screw what Laura Cunningham will have to say about it.

During her mental battle, Eddie hands money to Tiny before Chrissy is aware. Her face is full of betrayal when she snaps out of her daze and sees that Eddie has paid for her tattoo. Eddie presses a kiss to the crown of her head, and he plays with her hair. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Consider it a gift to celebrate the start of your rebellious streak,” he says. 

Chrissy is hesitant but finally relents. “Fine, but only if you let me pay for lunch.” She gives him puppy-dog eyes for good measure. 

Eddie grins and holds out his hand for her to shake. “You got yourself a deal, Cunningham.”

After saying goodbye to Tiny, the two of them get into Eddie’s van. The drive to the cafe is silent except for the low thrum of music. Chrissy watches the landscape blur past the window, and she has to be careful to not make herself nauseous. The smell of weed permanently lingers in the van, and it sends her stomach into a frenzy. One thing she learned from getting high is that her appetite increases, like, a lot. 

The first time she succumbed to the munchies, she managed to eat two whole pizza slices before feeling disgusted with herself. Eddie comforted her and told her his opinion. But he also told her he wouldn’t stop her from going to the bathroom if she absolutely felt the need to. She struggled but managed to refrain from throwing up. The smile on Eddie’s face when she downed it all with a soda… it’s what keeps her eating most days. Her stomach rumbles, and Eddie chuckles. He places his hand on her thigh and squeezes gently.

“Almost there, princess.” The roads are empty, so Eddie sneaks a peek at his girlfriend. She is practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. Her shoes are tapping against the floormat to the beat of the music, and she looks out of the window every few seconds to catch a glimpse of their destination. God, she’s too fucking cute.

Chrissy laughs and puts her hand on top of Eddie’s. She says, “I can’t help but get excited every time I think about what they might sell at the cafe.” Cafes mean carbs, sugar, butter, and anything delicious that Chrissy isn’t supposed to have. But she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore—she doesn’t have to sustain herself on air. 

Eddie grimaces when he sees the conflicting look in her eyes. In an attempt to cheer her up, he offers, “I’ll buy you one of those lattes.” He’s no coffee connoisseur, but it’s a drink he’s heard Nancy and Robin mention in passing. From what he understood, it’s coffee and steamed milk.

Chrissy perks up at the mention of a latte, another forbidden drink. The only way she was allowed to have her coffee was black. No sugar. No milk. “We already agreed that I would pay for lunch,” Chrissy reminds him. “We shook on it.” She doesn’t want him to pay for everything today. 

“Yeah, but I’m paying for your drink,” Eddie emphasizes the difference, but Chrissy knows better. If she lets him pay for her drink, he’ll end up paying for their entire bill. 

Chrissy snorts and shakes her head. “That is not a loophole, Eddie.”

“Au contraire, I think it is,” Eddie says. They never specified what lunch entails, and he feels like spoiling her today. 

Chrissy crosses her arms. “Using French does not make you more right. Where did you hear that phrase anyway?”

“Sorry, princess, but I’m buying you one of those obnoxiously named drinks.” Eddie dodges her question.

“Then I get to buy you an equally obnoxious drink,” Chrissy counters, offering a compromise. 

She has that little pout on her lips when she gets stubborn, and Eddie melts inside. He pats her knee and says, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

They pull into the cafe parking lot, and it’s fairly empty. Cars are sparsely spread throughout, so Eddie parks just about anywhere. The smell of sugar and coffee waft into the van. Chrissy’s stomach lets out another rumble of protest. Eddie gets out of the van and jogs around to open the door for Chrissy before she can open it herself. She beams at him and takes the hand he extends to her. 

“Why thank you, good sir,” she jokes, stepping out of the van like a princess descending from her carriage. 

Eddie bows grandiosely and offers his arm. “Your Highness, may I have the honour of escorting you to this fine establishment?”

Chrissy sighs and hooks her arm with his. “I suppose you’ll do.” She looks at him with her nose turned up, like he’s beneath her—which he honestly is, at least Eddie thinks so. 

“How benevolent of you, Princess,” Eddie says with a touched expression on his face. Chrissy only smirks and kisses his cheek in response. They continue to laugh and joke around on the walk to the entrance. When they enter the cafe, they’re instantly enveloped with the warm scent of coffee. They can practically taste the chocolate and cream on their tongues already. 

Chrissy drags Eddie to the display cases next to the cashier. “I’ve never seen so many different kinds of cake before!” she remarks in awe. Cupcakes, fruit cakes, carrot cakes, and many more sat tantalizingly in front of her.  Chrissy brings a hand up to her mouth to check for any drool. 

Eddie nudges her side gently. “What happened to pancakes?” he asks; the corners of his lips twitch upwards. 

“But, Eddie, they have cheesecake,” Chrissy says, gripping his arm tightly. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie says, immediately spotting the cheesecake section. “We’re definitely having some.” Eddie loves cheesecake. Wayne made him a no-bake cheesecake once for his birthday, and 12-year-old Eddie was never the same afterwards. 

Chrissy smiles impishly at his choice of words. “Maybe after.” 

“Is that a promise?” Eddie asks, rubbing his thumb in circles on her hips. 

“I wonder,” Chrissy responds, leaning into him.

The employee at the till slams open one of the display cases and restocks some cookies. Chrissy clears her throat and stares at the different cheesecakes, willing the prickle of heat on her skin to go away. Eddie presses a kiss to the side of her head and wraps his arm comfortably around her waist. He looks at the blackboard containing the daily specials and orders the latte with the longest name he can find. They sit beside each other in a booth after placing their orders, which Chrissy promptly pays for before Eddie can take his wallet out. She sticks her tongue out at him and relishes in the small victory.

A good five minutes pass before their orders arrive. Both their drinks come in these wide mugs, and Eddie realizes the various white blobs in his latte are actually hearts. He looks at Chrissy’s mug, and her design has a cat. At least, that’s what he’s choosing to interpret the white mountain of foam as. Why is hers so much cooler? “Your latte looks absolutely ridiculous,” Eddie says.

Chrissy hums and admires the carefully crafted creature. “I think it’s cute!”

Eddie sips his drink and watches as the milk vacuums toward his mouth. The hearts are now stretched out and misshapen, a sad state compared to their initial look. “I don’t see the point in making art with coffee if it’s all going to mix in my stomach,” he comments.

Chrissy has barely touched her drink, her lips slipping into a frown whenever she attempts to take a sip. Her first taste of the latte was delicious, but the plump cat wobbled, and she almost drank the poor thing. Now she’s putting off finishing her drink in good conscience of the foam cat in her cup. It’s silly, she knows, but the cat with its little painted face is too cute to destroy. So far, she’s managed to distract Eddie, but he’ll catch on eventually. “The little hearts don’t do anything for you?” she asks.

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. “No, but I’ll tell ya what does. The fact that they named it Hazlenut Heartthrob.” Eddie clutches his chest and crumples over, his head resting on the table with a soft thud. He doesn’t dare risk a glance until Chrissy’s melodic giggles fill the booth. He peeks at her through the wild curls of his mane, grinning like a love-sick fool because he is one.

“We both knew what we were getting into when we decided to have lunch here,” Chrissy reminds him of their latte deal. She picks up her fork and digs into the cheesecake. Her content hums fill the silence, and she does a little dance in her seat.

Eddie falters for a moment. He wipes away crumbs from the right corner of her mouth. Seeing her get so excited over food shortcircuits his brain. He likes seeing her happy, plain and simple “C’mon, princess. Hazelnut Heartthrob? No one would drink something with that name.”

“You are,” Chrissy mumbles around a mouthful of cheesecake, pointing her fork at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes and takes a bite from his cheesecake. “Anyone who doesn’t have a girlfriend trying to buy them an obnoxiously named coffee,” he adds. The tang of the cream cheese melts in his mouth, and the graham cracker crust adds a crunch to the otherwise smooth texture of the cake. He groans and shovels another forkful into his mouth, washing it down with a sip of his latte. The hazelnut is faint, and he’s not even sure he can taste it. “I don’t think the names even have anything to do with the drink,” Eddie says. He’s half expecting heart palpitations any minute now, hence his fake heart attack earlier. 

Chrissy grimaces and pokes at her cake. “It’s all about presentation. If something sounds nice and looks pretty, people don’t tend to question it,” she remarks. The plate squeals as she stabs the cake and chomps another bite, making no further comments.

Eddie holds her hand and gently unclenches her fingers from the fork. “I have a feeling we’re not talking about coffee anymore,” he says with a wry smile.

Chrissy sighs and slumps in her seat. “I’m sorry, I just—it still haunts me,” she says, stumbling over her words. She hates how she can’t just move on. The Upside Down is sealed. She’s going to college soon. Jason is out of the picture. Why is this still affecting her? Why can’t she drink coffee like a normal person?

Eddie squeezes her hand. “That’s alright, darling. We’re gonna work on the apologies, but know that I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie reassures her because she has nothing to be sorry for. Chrissy survived her mother, Jason, and Vecna. The girl deserves a goddamn medal for the suffering she endured, which is why it breaks Eddie’s heart to see her in pain. He tries his best to remind her of the present, but once in a while, she gets trapped in the past. God knows Eddie still has nightmares about monster bats; all the suitcases in the world wouldn’t be enough to contain the baggage of their entire friend group. Chrissy seems to forget that it takes time to heal, a fact her therapist often reminds her of. 

Chrissy blinks away the tears in her eyes and the smile on her face wobbles. “Eddie….”

“Come here, sweetheart.” Eddie opens his arms and pulls her into a tight embrace. They sit in silence and just hold each other. Chrissy breathes in the minty smell of his toothpaste and the scent of weed that clings to his clothes like it’s woven into the fabric. Eddie strokes her hair and presses a tender kiss to her forehead. “Now that we’re stuffed with cheesecake, I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it another cheesecake?” Chrissy’s question is full of hope. 

Eddie chuckles and pecks her lips when she pouts. “No, but we can bring some home. I’m sure Wayne would appreciate it.”

“Is it… condoms?” she asks, voice timid and small. 

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he holds her hand. “Christ, Chrissy. Please tell me you’re joking.” When she bites her lip and doesn’t respond, anger begins to simmer inside Eddie. “Did someone try to surprise you with them before?” 

“Jason—he….” She’s unable to find the right words. Because even now, her mind is trying to justify Jason’s actions. She knows now that none of it was her fault, and it was a terrible gift. But self-doubt is a bitch and a relentless monster inside her head,

“Look at me, Chris. What he did was a shitty move, ok? I’m going to surprise you with so much romantic shit—flowers, chocolate—that you won’t even entertain the possibility of condoms,” Eddie rambles. His face morphs through various expressions, determination being the most prominent.

Chrissy swallows the lump in her throat and manages a watery smile. “I look forward to that,” she says.

Eddie squeezes her hand. “Now, close your eyes.”

“Ok.” Chrissy follows his instructions and closes her eyes.

“Hold out your hands,” Eddie instructs, and she can hear him fumbling around with his pockets.

Chrissy giggles. “You know, the last time someone told me to hold out my hands was in kindergarten. I ended up holding a beetle,” she says.

“Did it scare you?” Eddie asks.

Chrissy shrugs her shoulders. “No, I named it Bella.” She smiles fondly at the memory. Some kids tried to scare her, but the tables turned when she approached them and asked if they wanted to pet the beetle. She couldn’t take it home, of course. God forbid she brings home any animals, let alone insects. Her mother would have lost her mind. So Chrissy left it in the garden behind the school, coming back every recess to see if she could catch a glimpse of it again.

Eddie sounds surprised—no, impressed. “You are something else, Cunningham.” She feels something light and flat against her hands. Some sort of paper, perhaps? “Alright, you can open them,” Eddie says. 

She opens her eyes and glances down at the mystery object. “Tickets? General admission to—the aquarium?!?!” she squeals. Chrissy tackles Eddie with a hug, peppering kisses all over his face. Eddie instantly flushes red, and not even his hair can hide his embarrassment. She places one last kiss on his lips, conveying every ounce of her appreciation. Eddie can’t help but lose himself in her sparkling eyes. She is the sun, and he is feeling the gravitational pull.

Eddie caresses her cheek and says, “Let’s go see those seals, and I can judge whether or not they have the cutest faces.”

“Mhmm. You’ll find out that I’m right.” Chrissy sounds so sure of herself, but Eddie knows he’ll find a way to prove her wrong.

“I’m not gonna lie, princess. They have some stiff competition with you around,” Eddie says, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Chrissy shakes her head but can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “Since I only paid for lunch today, I still have some money left. Take me to go shopping? I want to find something to wear for our date.” She wants to surprise him with something nice, maybe even pick something out from the lingerie store. She’ll have to do a rain check on the latter idea; she needs some help from her friends for that.

“Sure. What’d you have in mind?” Eddie asks. He finishes the rest of his latte and slings his arm around her shoulder. Chrissy doesn’t vocalize it, but his arm feels comfortable there and not suffocating.

“Honestly, Eddie, I don’t know. I just want to wear something I feel good in,” Chrissy admits. The last time she bought a shirt she liked, her mother confiscated it and told her that it accentuated the rolls around her stomach. The next day, her mother wore Chrissy’s new shirt. But now she can wear what she wants, and it’s not like Eddie will steal her clothes to wear. Although she does wheeze at the image it creates in her mind.

Eddie squeezes her shoulder and smiles softly. “Alright, you can go on ahead. I’m gonna buy some cheesecake, and I’ll meet you in the van.” Chrissy nods and exits the cafe, skipping her way to the van. Her stomach is full of delicious food, and the seal on her arm is gorgeous. Life is good.

Chrissy sits in the passenger seat and sings along to the song that’s currently playing. She wonders if she would look good in a skirt with some chains. Maybe she’ll also buy a set of pyjamas; she can’t keep stealing Eddie’s clothes if she’s going to live with him. Movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention. It’s Eddie exiting the cafe with a large box that most definitely contains an entire cheesecake. She examines the aquarium tickets in her hand and bites back a grin. Chrissy can’t wait to show him the seals and all her other favourite sea creatures.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

I love how cute this is. Reading this gives me so much serotonin, I hope it gave you guys a mood boost as well! I'm glad I got to write for them and this lets me live in my little bubble where Eddie and Chrissy get to be happy together.

If anyone was curious, this is the tattoo I like to imagine Chrissy got.

Thanks for reading and see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

[thedawningofthehour]

Hi, for someone who its just a beginner in writing fanfic do mind to share your process?

Oh god, I feel really bad when people ask me for advice because half the time shit just pops into my brain I had no input in really cultivating it. So when people ask me how I write dialogue-like, man, I don't know. There's a guy talking and I'm just taking down whatever they say.

Honestly, my biggest piece of advice is just to write a lot, and write whatever. Do you have a cool idea for a oneshot and you're not sure if you can pull it off? Write it anyway. You're thinking of a random scene in the middle of what should be a longer story? Cool. Write that. You think this idea is cringy and you would never want anyone else to see it? Write it and let it sit in your Google Docs. Write stuff and never publish it. Write stuff and drop it when it's no longer fun.

Seriously, I have so many Google Docs that are never seeing the light of day. Stuff that I never bothered to finish. Stuff that wouldn't make sense to anyone outside my brain. Weird horny stuff. Hundreds of hours I spent writing this shit. That wasn't wasted time because-well, for one, I had fun writing it, but I was learning what I liked, what sounded good. And don't worry about never having anything to show for it because you will in the process go "oh man, this shit slaps" with something. I've mentioned before that doth wasn't going to be publish originally. Literally every fanfic I have on AO3 started off as "I'm bored, let's get that idea that I've been thinking about while trying to sleep out of my head." Unlike all the other blurbs I've written, I wanted to return to them, hone them into something better, keep writing more. You can't force passion. It just kind of happens, and sometimes it won't happen. That's okay.

Another thing is: write badly. Seriously, your first draft is just a draft. Unless you're a professional author and it's the night before it goes to print, you can always change it. If you're sitting there thinking 'this is gonna sound so bad'? Write it anyway. Chances are it's not actually that bad. Even if it's not great, you have something to edit-you'll never have anything to make better if you never write it in the first place. And if you do come back to it the next day and realize that it's irredeemably awful-you can just delete it. Rewrite it later if you think of something better. But do not just sit around waiting to spontaneously think of the perfect execution for every scene, because it will never happen and then you'll be left with a blank document.

Oh, something I see a lot of younger, newbie fanfic writers do? Writing and posting the same day. I mean, I do it too sometimes, but generally you don't want to do that, even if you're not in the habit of going through multiple drafts. Your brain does get tired. At the very least do the final read-through on a different day. One of my teachers in high school said it was best to let a piece of writing sit for two days without even looking at it before doing the final proofread, because that's how long it takes for your brain to 'forget' what you wrote. You want to read what's actually on the screen, not what you remember writing. He was right. This is good advice for papers too, for all of you still in school.

Also, if you're planning to write fanfic in English then mad fucking props to you, I have a hard enough time speaking it half the time and it's the only language I speak and I have a fucking degree in it.

Writing is a hard thing to give advice for because everyone, and I mean everyone goes about it differently and wildly different stuff works for them. Some writers can only write first thing in the morning-I'm better at night. Some writers need to have a habit of writing X amount every day, no excuses. I can go between writing nothing and writing 4k words the next day-and those 4k dump days are typically where I do my best work. Nothing fits everyone. It's really a process of fucking around and finding out what fits you best.

Oh, and if you're struggling with anxiety or imposter syndrome? If you're too nervous to start the process, or too nervous to post? One thing that helps me is asking myself, what's the worst possible thing that could happen? Are planes going to fall out of the sky? Are you gonna die? Almost certainly not. What is likely to happen? I go through this pretty much every time I post a chapter. I think, "oh man, they've liked everything so far but this is the chapter where they Find Out and make fun of me." (find out what? I don't fucking know. anxiety isn't logical) I just think about all the other chapters I posted that I thought weren't up to snuff, where I thought people would judge me for it-no, they all liked them anyway. In some cases people even said that it was their new favorite chapter. So seriously, just push yourself over that hurdle. You will be glad you did. The most likely outcome is that some people will enjoy it, and the absolutely worst thing that could happen is that someone is mean to you. And honestly, that says more about them than you.

[okadaizoirl]

ummmm so it wasn't a one-off after all?????? oops whatever writing this helps me feel better so fuck it

SO THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES??? SITTING?????? FINISHED????????? so here's that second "chapter" of my BCS self-insert fic

8:15am.

Jimmy pulled in to his office just to see that Mike was already there-- A sealed folder in his hand. Figures that he'd throw such a fit over how early he was asked for, just to show up even earlier. As he unlocked the door and made his way back to his office, he set his hands down on the arms of his chair before finally sitting.

"What've you got for me?"

Mike let the folder fall onto the desk from under his crossword as he stood just a foot or two away. Despite his complaints, he sounded just as alert as usual as he took a sip of his coffee from its paper cup.

"Well, first off, kid's real last name is Morrison," he began as Jimmy opened the folder he was given. Photographs spilled out first, with printed paper falling just behind. "Owns some property willed to him by his grandfather, lives there, barely seems to pay the utilities. Has a cat. And a blog."

Jimmy first looked at the photos-- The first few seemed to be a perimeter view of his applicant's home. Dandelions littered the yard, the grass tall and unkempt, yet the home's exterior and windows seemed fairly clean. The house number was visible from the street, and Alex's beat-up ride was there in the driveway.

What a bittersweet sight, that car. It tugged at Jimmy's mind in a way that kept him thinking of how this morning would go throughout his sleepless night.

He didn't realize he was speaking until the words had already left his mouth-- "And what about a connection to music?"

Mike looked up from his crossword, head slowly turning to give that blank stare Jimmy was all too fucking familiar with. That attitude never failed to start even the smallest fire of annoyance in him, even now as he found himself chasing the most irrelevant thing about this new guy. His eyes widened, brows raised, before pointing to the printed papers.

"Huh? Is it in these? Anything on that?"

It took another agonizing moment of silence, but with a sigh, Mike spoke again.

"He was in band in school. Marching band, orchestra, seemed like he wanted to shoot for Carnegie Hall but ended up playin' an electric bass with a group of kids in a shitty bar. That is, until he got a call from grandpa asking for help-- That answer your burning question?"

It did, and fuck, did he regret asking. His prior teasing did, in fact, strike a nerve as he'd suspected, but not nearly the nerve he meant to touch. For a second, he tried to speak, but only a soft noise left his throat-- But he at least got it on the second time.

"Uh-- What else did you find, then? These papers, what are they?" As he posed the question, he finally gave the documents a look over, taking in the printed website's formatting.

"Blog posts," Mike answered. "I didn't print all of 'em, but I got the ones that stood out to me."

Jimmy gave each page a quick skim-- Some seemed almost like diary entries, others written by his to-be assistant stirred up in passionate frenzies about civil rights movements. The only thing close to criminal activity in the least was admission of possession and use of marijuana. He finally looked up to Mike from those documents, a silent question posed then and there: Can he be trusted?

Thankfully, Mike answered with a nod. "He's young and dumb, but loyal. He's fine to come aboard."

Jimmy let out a sigh of relief, but he didn't know why. Mike, however, caught that sound, responding to it with a raised brow.

"But he's also barely even grown. 25, says so on his blog, on his driver's license." From relief to suddenly being put on the defensive, Jimmy at first just scoffed.

"So? He's been an adult for long enough that he knows he needs a good job, he gets one." That was met with a brief shake of Mike's head.

"What I'm saying is, he doesn't need even half of the bullshit you bring to the table in his life." Instantly, he was met with protest from Jimmy.

"What?! I do not bring bullshit to the table, Mike!"

But even so, as if nothing had been said at all, Mike continued. "He can have a good-paying job. He can keep a secret. But whenever you have anybody around that you can rope into something, you pull them in before they even know it."

While Jimmy sat back in silence, Mike seemed to think it pertinent to lean in as he finally capped off his point:

"This guy's life is just starting. Don't screw it up."

Jimmy could feel his blood boiling under his skin, but Mike just turned to leave. And he let him. Oh, he'd likely think of comebacks he could have said for days, but the first only came to him after Mike was opening the front door to head back to his car-- Said just under his breath.

"Yeah, like he wasn't going to already."

With an irritated sigh, he looked over what had been printed again. Nothing stood out to him in particular, but the greyscale printed copies of an obviously full-color webpage made some things a bit difficult; for instance, a rectangle that looked enough like a flag stamped the bottom left corner of the website, but he couldn't see any hints of what colors might make up that flag-- It didn't look like the flag of Mexico, at least, but no country he could think of immediately.

Meanwhile, back in that property in the photographs on Saul's desk, Alex was just doing his best to wake up. Wake up, get ready, make a good impression on the first day. He looked himself over in the mirror, taking in the sight of himself in the suit he picked...

... It was maybe a little tight on his hips. It'd just have to do. With a quick tug, he just tightened his tie and headed for his car. Once in the driver's seat, he could finally take a moment to take a deep breath in, and out. He just needed to keep himself collected. Work would be work, and home would be home. That's all there would be to it.

Not two minutes after he pulled from his driveway and his cell phone starts ringing. Just typical. With a groan, he opens it, putting the receiver to his ear.

"You reached Alex Lobelia. How can I help you?"

"You miserable bastard."

Oh, Alex knew that voice. All he could do at first was sigh as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

"Mandy--"

"You do not get to call me that."

"Amanda. Look, Amanda, I told you before and I'll tell you again, we're over. And for reasons you couldn't help even if you tried."

"What reasons?! Was I just not ever going to be good enough for you?!"

"I didn't say that."

His calm when dealing with the sudden interrogation was from nothing more than unfortunate familiarity. Even as his past lover screamed into the phone, his mind was more occupied by making sure he remembered the directions to his new workplace. It'd just take ten or fifteen minutes, pushing twenty if something backed up the highway. His mind raced with how exactly he could stride right through the door, looking ready and chipper to file papers all day, as that yelling continued right in his ear.

It wasn't helping him much.

"Amanda, I really don't have time for this right now. I'm on my way to my new job."

"Oh, a new job, huh? You're just getting on so well without me."

"You're hearing what you wanna hear. I have to go, seriously."

As Alex pulled into a side parking spot, he snapped his phone shut and exited his vehicle with one more deep breath. Last chance to pull himself together. He slid his phone into his pocket, also double-checking that he had his wallet, his pen...

All there. Last stop. Time to walk in.

As Alex opened the front door to enter the waiting area, he found himself taking longer strides. His shoulders square, his posture straightened; yes, this would be a fresh start. No longer would he have to repress himself to get respect, and it all started here.

The door to Saul Goodman's office swung open wide, the lights flickering on one by one until Alexei's figure was fully illuminated in the doorway.

"What's the time, boss?"

"Nine o'clock," came his answer. "You're early."

"Better than late," Alex laughed in reply as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

[cwstau]

20 Questions for fic writers

@cchapsticck tagged me and given we should have an update on CWSTAU by the end of this month, figured I should post.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

4 - Most of my work isn't published. I've written a lot but just...not put it out there. I've always been a chicken. However one I archived/deleted and the other is on an account I don't associate with this one, and is on long term hiatus. The other is on someone else's account that will be explained below and just, /gestures.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

18,760 (published) but to give ya'll some idea of how much of Conventional Weapons is sitting waiting to be edited/refined, I have 14k sitting in gdocs

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things, Danger Days. This is a labor of love towards both fandoms, and when the main CW is done, I have pieces that are going expand with both the characters of ST and DD. Any other non-DD things will go on my other account (not associated here).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

adlfkja only got the one baby. But I'm so thankful for each and every one of those kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! It may not always be coherent or the best comment, but I try to give people some sort of response as they've gone that extra mile to provide me a comment. Every kudo, every comment means so much to me. Seriously, I wrote this expecting an audience of like, 2 people, and knowing so many more are enjoying it means the world to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There is a timeloop fic that remains in the drafts that has a horrible ending, but I don't know if it will ever be published. As of right now, no angst endings here. Complicated, messy, but not angst ridden, really.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The ending of Conventional Weapons is already written--its been written for a long time (before the middle parts were even written) and I don't know if it's the happiest ending, but it's the most hopeful.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, I'm too niche for that lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Smut with emotion? IDK. There are plans for smut in CW but I think they are going to be 'missing scenes' published after the fact that people can read/not read at their leisure. I enjoy writing it, but it isn't really what this story is about, and I honestly don't feel that it works with the main body of this story. Hence, the "click here to read the sex" aspect of what is going to happen. The 'sequel' things may be more explicit, as they aren't the direct story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Gestures to what this entire blog/project is about.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

While not a traditional co-written piece, @cchapsticck has provided insight that has really helped me move this along, and the key mantra in the fic itself is from them. Their art has also really been important as well. They sell themselves short on their additions, really. Their help, esp early on, in helping me shape the world, means that this fic is what it is now.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Legit could never choose one

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the story that's on hiatus may never be finished. And hey, that's okay. I have a few that I've got outlines for, that may never get past that. I'm a slow writer, I always have been. I really dont want to let anything else get rolling until CW is done anyways.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Look I'm going to be honest, I have no fucking idea. I will say I think I'm pretty good at characterization, and I usually feel confident in my choices for the character--in a 'yes they would do this given the situation' and a 'yes they would say that'. Given it's an AU I get more wiggle room, but I feel really strongly about Steve and Eddie's characterization, and I know that not everyone feels the same way I do regarding them--but I'm confident in my character choices in the story. [This goes for my other stories as well but--]

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I hate writing action. I suck at it, and I try to avoid it, despite evidence to the contrary. Trying to keep track of all the balls in the air is just annoying as hell. Also despite this fic having a real overarching plot, I have really wanted to keep it 'vibes' based more than plot, cause things get to plot heavy and I start to worry I'm a bore. It's where my insecurities start to sneak in, which lets my writing to become a lot weaker in turn.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Note: all my statements are assuming you aren't fluent in the language you are trying to write in, and you're a native English speaker. Maybe a word or two is okay? But unless you're fluent, you're gonna make it sound weird. If a character is speaking in German, just say they are speaking in German. Unless it is absoLUTELY important to the narrative that the phrase be in a foreign language, in the fic--do the work to make sure it's correct. Get a native speaker to check it, put in the translation somewhere. But again, ask yourself once, twice, three times if it's necessary.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I didn't consider it fanfic at the time but I absolutely wrote a 'fix it' chapter for the end of The Great Gatsby for class once lol. That was the beginning.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This one. Again, I know it's niche, but CW is such a labor of love, and means so much to me. It's not perfect, I'm slow going because of school and work, but I've never felt so secure in my own work and felt such joy when I'm working on it.