#first series i've ever written ahhh

[banana-cheese-cake]

Freak Show - Chapter 1

Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, ...

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October 23, 2077

A crisp autumn breeze blew through the quaint Massachusetts neighborhood, rustling fallen leaves and swaying plastic Halloween decor as it went. Children’s laughter filled the air as last minute decorations were lovingly placed, small faces beaming with excitement as the sweets centered holiday inched ever closer. Shining silver in the early morning sun, the pip-boy cuff adorning your left arm was a stark contrast to the funeral wear that made up your day's attire. A soft nudge against your right shoulder brought you back to the present, back to this new reality, back to a world without her in it. Turning to look at the familiar face beside you, the face you'd seen everyday since birth, you came to a realization. Everyone else's worlds would keep spinning, would continue onward as if the chasm that now consumed you didn't affect them, because it didn’t, this grief was to devour you and leave the rest of the planet be. 

“Hey, talk to me, Sis, what's goin’ on in that head of yours?” 

Her voice altered your realization ever so slightly, it wouldn't affect just you, because it's never been just you. A twin is another part of you, and yours would shoulder this grief as well, her world stopped with yours. Looking into her dark, nearly black eyes, a weight was lifted off of you. You would never be alone, not in grief or joy or terror. She would always be there for you, as she's always been. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you finally spoke, “I miss her, Lottie.”

Lottie. She always insisted everyone call her that, “Charlotte is too formal, Lottie is perfect,” she’d say, and you didn't agree, but always told her you did just to see the triumphant smile that lit up her face. Charlotte was a beautiful name, and it suited her perfectly, but then again- everything suited her. She radiated confidence and oozed self-assurance, everything suited her and her name was no exception. Though today, grief clouded her usually confident demeanor; her voice was soft as she said, “I do too, but the funeral is over. Now… Now we just have to try to pick up the pieces of our life, find a way to keep going without her.”

Find a way to keep going. That felt about as easy as trying to bottle up the ocean, but with Lottie by your side you might actually be able to do it; to reach some semblance of normal again. As you walked side-by-side you tried to take in the view, the street you grew up on had hardly changed in the years since you and your sister had moved to California to pursue higher positions in Vault-Tec. The little houses stayed mostly the same, new coats of paint adorning some and freshly planted trees decorated the yards of others, but they were filled with people neither of you recognized. You wondered if your mother had gotten to know any of them in the years you'd been away, but then again, if she'd become close with any of them then surely they'd have shown up to her funeral.

Your mother's funeral had been eerily quiet, only you and Lottie in attendance, staring numbly at a small urn that seemed like it couldn't possibly contain all that was left of her. A woman as head-strong and confident as her, a woman who commanded attention and respect, a woman who was now mere ashes in a jar. She was the reason you were so successful, the reason you had the confidence to speak your mind and reach for goals you never thought obtainable. In her early life, she had been a single mother raising twin girls while working as a receptionist for Vault-Tec. After your father had left her, she decided to prove to herself, to her girls, and to the world that she could do it all alone and didn't need a man to get her there. 

Clawing and fighting her way up in her career, she eventually made her way to the top ranks of Vault-Tec, getting high-paying jobs for you and your twin, and securing the three of you a spot in Vault 4 located in California; a vault fully operated by scientists like you and Lottie. Lottie preferred physics, and you biology, but your mother had insisted you both focused your studies on radiology, no matter how much you protested against it in favor of focusing on your passions. But Mother was never one to lose an argument, always saying, “I'm paying for your schooling, I choose what you major in, end of discussion.” So here you were years later with a masters degree in radiology, a dead mom, and not a shred of passion for your job. Lottie, on the other hand, found herself falling in love with the life your mother had chosen for her and flourishing in her career. You envied how she could adapt to any environment she was thrown into, not unlike a weed sprouting through cracks in concrete, finding a way to not only survive but thrive.

After the funeral, during the walk back to your childhood home where your mother had spent her final days, you were stopped by two strange men in suits. Their serious faces made you stop in your tracks, both intrigued by these men and deeply suspicious of them, something about them put you on edge. After quickly flashing their Vault-Tec badges, they merely handed you and Lottie each a holotape with your names on them, an invitation to Vault 111 for later this afternoon, and then walked away, ignoring the questions you both threw at their backs. The small tape held in your hands had your name on it, written in your mother's handwriting, and a message taped to the back that read: “My final message to you. -Mom.” 

Neither of you listened to your messages, instead choosing to sit in your mother's dining room until it was time to head to Vault 111, wondering why you were invited to visit it today of all days. As the time passed in comfortable silence, you took in the state of the house you grew up in. The coroner had determined that your mother had been struggling with this cancer for months before losing her battle earlier this week, though you hadn't believed it until entering the house. Mold covered dishes were stacked all over the kitchen, even more shoved into the small sink. Over a dozen bags of rotting trash were leaned against the back door, it seemed she had been too weak to drag them any further than that. This house that once had been so beautiful, beaming with life, had silently fallen into disarray the further along your mother's illness progressed. You tried not to think of her final days in this house, how she must have suffered, how awful it must have been for her to die alone surrounded by the rotting remains of her once lovely home. As tears filled your eyes, you felt Lottie grab your hand before she spoke, “Let's head out a bit early, I think Vault 111 could be a good change of scenery for us, what do you say?” 

You squeezed her hand and looked up at her through watery eyes, “Yeah,” you mumbled, “I think you might be right.” Walking out the door and down the overgrown driveway, you looked back at your old home fondly, trying desperately to fill your mind with memories of joy-filled evenings laughing with Lottie or winters spent cuddled with your mother by the fireplace. Every time you tried though, your mind was filled with the image of her at the morgue, of her pale lifeless corpse on a metal table. No matter how many attempts you made, these images kept flashing through your mind. So instead, you looked away from that house, staring desperately ahead trying to find something, anything to focus on that didn't remind you of what you'd lost. Looking down the street, attention drawn to the clear blue sky above, you did end up finding something else to focus on: a mushroom shaped cloud far, far in the distance, followed by the sound of sirens blaring and glass shattering all around you. 

. 

.

.

Sharp, blinding pain burst across the side of your face as glass tore your skin, the shockwave knocking you and Lottie to the ground. Knees and palms burning as the rough asphalt tore through the dark fabric of your pants and shredded the soft skin underneath. Ignoring the hot liquid pouring down your face and blurring the vision in your right eye, you frantically reached for the crumpled form of your sister. She was dazed, but had no visible injuries besides a few scrapes on her hands and knees that matched your own. 

“Hey, hey,” you snapped your fingers in front of Lottie's eyes, drawing her unfocused eyes to yours, “we need to run, Lottie, can you do that?”

No words escaped her, just a swift nod of her head as she grabbed your hand and stood on shaking legs. There was no time to let her adjust, screaming families were flooding the previously quiet street, all running towards the same place: Vault 111. You tightened your grip on Lottie's hand, letting the flash of pain across your palm ground you, then began to run. Dozens of panicking people were blocking the street, you would have to take a different route if you wanted to make it in time. There was no guarantee you would be let into the vault, no guarantee you'd even make it to the gate before the next bomb dropped, but you had to try.

“Our shortcut, through the woods. C'mon.” Your sister's voice sounded far away as she tugged at your hand and pulled you to the trees behind the now windowless house you'd just exited, towards the shortcut you two always took to the park after school.

Vault-Tec had bought the park a few years back, stating it was the perfect place for their newest vault, given how close it was to the neighborhoods full of potential customers. At the time, you had grieved the loss of your favorite childhood playplace and cursed your employer for destroying a beautiful thing in the name of profit. Now, however, as you sprinted down the familiar hidden path to the park, you thanked whatever god would listen that Vault-Tec was so greedy. Their greed meant your salvation, your only chance of surviving the end of the world. 

Bursting through the overgrown bushes that marked the end of the trail, the towering chain link fence and armed guards at the entrance to the vault let you know you'd made it. There were a dozen people at the gate, some screaming at guards, others on the ground, tears streaming down their faces as they begged them to let their children in. You couldn't think of them now, you had to think about Charlotte, about yourself, you needed to try to get into this vault. Pushing through the crowd, you made your way to the guards blocking the gate. 

“Excuse me, please, you have to let us in, we work for Vault-Tec we-,” your voice was cut off by the guard. 

“Doesn’t matter who you are if you aren't on the list.” He didn't even look at you as he spoke.

“Well then check the fucking list.” Your voice was harsh as you gave him your names, harsher than you had ever heard yourself speak. 

“And we have this,” Lottie's voice was firm even as her hand shook, a hand holding up the invitation you had received earlier that day. 

“Shit.” The guard cursed as he ripped the invitation out of her hand, showing it to the other man who stood watch beside him. 

The other guard didn't speak as he waved for the gate to be opened and raised his gun, pointing it at the crowd around you, a silent warning to anyone who might try to rush in. He nodded at you and Lottie, signaling you to go inside, a new guard waiting to escort you to the vault entrance. You wasted no time, dragging your sister with you as you ran through the gate and towards the concrete vault door. As the gate rolled shut behind you, you heard a man let out a roar as he rushed forward, followed by three gunshots and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Lottie gasped beside you and covered her mouth with her free hand. Keeping your eyes forward, even as your whole body shook, you kept pressing on until you were standing on a platform with six other people, some being neighbors you had seen decorating with their children earlier this morning. 

“These are the last of ‘em, send it down.” A gruff voice yelled from behind you, just as you saw another mushroom cloud forming in the distance, much closer than the last. 

The platform you stood on shook as you were sent down into the vault, still clutching your twin's hand in yours, looking at her terrified face now streaming with tears of relief. “We made it,” she whispered as she squeezed your hand, “we actually made it.”

You tried to smile at her, but the act made you wince with pain, the gash across your face making its presence known again now that the adrenaline was wearing off. It didn't matter though, as you reached the bottom of Vault 111 and were met with the smiling faces of the Vault-tec employees, you finally felt safe. Two-hundred feet beneath the surface and surrounded by individuals like yourself who had been trained for this very event, you were in the safest place on the planet. 

“Welcome to Vault 111,” a cheerful young woman in a lab coat said as she helped you off the platform, “please head this way to change into your vault suit.”

You, Lottie, and three other women were ushered toward some changing rooms. While there, you were relieved to finally be out of your funeral clothes, which were now ripped and covered in dirt and your own blood, and into the blue and yellow vault suit provided to all vault residents. The familiar company colors brought a sense of normality, the colors you'd seen nearly everyday you went to work for the last few years. As you exited the changing room, the same woman led you and the others to rows and rows of strange pods. Each pod resembled a glass coffin, standing upright and attached to complex machines you didn't recognize, but Lottie did. 

“What's going on here?” Lottie's voice was commanding, full of suspicion, as she demanded an answer from the scientists surrounding us. 

“These are just your sleeping chambers, there's nothing to worry-,” the woman was cut off by your twin. 

“These are cryosleep pods, so what the fuck is actually going on here?” You froze at these words, cryosleep? That wasn't right, these vaults were made for people to live in until the radiation levels above were safe enough for everyone to return to the surface. Cryosleep pods hadn't even been tested yet, this didn't make any sense, this had to be some sort of misunderstanding. 

“I see,” the scientist mumbled before turning to two guards you hadn’t noticed before, “get her into her pod, please. We don't have time for distractions.”

The guards grabbed Lottie by her arms and lifted her towards the pod, all while she kicked and screamed at them to let her go. As you rushed forward, begging them to just let her go, they closed her into a pod and activated it. You watched her scream and bang on the glass until she finally froze, her terrified expression frozen to her face. Then, the guards turned to you, grabbing you the same way, dragging you to the pod across from Lottie's. You and Lottie were twins, but you were far from identical, she believed people deserved kindness, no matter how they treated you or others. She had fought those guards, but she only fought to be free, to get away, not to hurt them, so they expected the same from you. You, however, always fought to hurt, to get revenge on those who had wronged you. So when they grabbed your arms and started to drag you to the pods, you leaned back and bit at anything you could reach.

You latched your teeth on one guard's Adam's apple and bit down as hard as you could, twisted your head to the side and pulled back, your mouth filling with the copper taste of blood. He let go of you, reaching for his bleeding throat as you punched the other guard and ran. You made it to the platform you'd arrived on before the guard you'd hit grabbed at you again; you kicked and screamed, scratched and bit, but it was no use. He had a job to do and though he'd much rather kill you and move onto the next vault dweller, he had strict orders and an injured, if not dead, coworker to attend to. Your head smacked against the cushioned headrest of the cryopod as he threw you in and sealed the glass door, your fists banged so hard on the glass you felt like your bones would crack. Frozen air filled the chamber around you, causing you to panic even more, your screams reaching a new octave as your banging slowed down, your limbs becoming frozen and sluggish. The last thing you saw as you were forced into cryosleep was your sister's terrified frozen face across from you. 

.

.

.

Blurry, dark shapes moved in front of you, your limbs feeling sluggish and your mind a thousand miles away. Memories came rushing back to you as your vision focused, your mother’s funeral, bombs dropping, Lottie being forced into a cryopod, the taste of blood. Panic flooded your veins, eyes frantically searching for a way out, but they quickly came to a halt as you realized what the blurred shapes were. People. There were two people in the vault, two people who weren't put into a prolonged sleep, two people who were opening your sister's cryopod. 

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck are you doing? Let me out of here!” You screamed as loud as you could, but they paid you no mind.

Lottie woke up, and you were flooded with relief; she was alive, she was free. As she groggily took in her surroundings, one of the individuals in front of her reached forward and injected something into her neck, causing her to lose consciousness. Staring in horror, you watched as the one who injected her simply picked her up and started carrying her towards the vault's exit, leaving you and everyone else behind. 

“Where are you taking her? Let her go! Listen to me, assholes!” Your voice became shrill and frantic, but the remaining stranger turned to you.

As you took in his face, you cataloged every single detail you could see. He was a bald man with a scar going down from his forehead, through his eye, and down the left side of his face. The clothes he wore were strange and dirty, like nothing you had ever seen. “At least we have the backup if that twin doesn't work out,” he said over his shoulder to the person carrying your sister.

As he reached for the controls to your pod, you slammed your fist against the glass, bringing his gaze to yours. “I don't know who you are, but I promise you, I will be the one to kill you. I'm going to get my sister back, there is nothing in this world that will keep me from her.” Your voice was even, laced with venom as you hurled your threats at this man.

He laughed then, laughed, before he said “I'd love to see you try,” and reactivated your cryosleep pod. 

Watching him and his partner walk away with your unconscious sister, you imagined how you'd kill him, how his blood would look gushing out of his throat, how you'd relish in watching the light leave his eyes. As cryosleep forcefully dragged you back into a dreamless sleep, you took solace in knowing his death would be by your hand. 

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question. 

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left. 

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then. 

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting. 

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.” 

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes. 

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.” 

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” 

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away. 

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about. 

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” 

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name. 

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you. 

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

————

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[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song London Boy. Where the reader is from Europe, and she just moved to London to become a better ghost hunter, but she gets rejected at Fittes and other agencies. Then she finds out about Lockwood&Co. and goes to a job interview and gets hired. Since she's from Europe, she has an accent, and like she doesn't always pronounce words right, Lockwood loves it and finds it adorable. As she lives with all of them, they start becoming closer. She and Lucy become like best friends. And from the whole start, when she met Anthony, she was crushing on him and he would often call her darling and love, because for him it's normal, but she would literally be running laps in her head. Lucy notices all of this and teases them about it. Happy ending with them confessing and kissing? As always, you can change it so it suits the song more, I really love your writing, and it never disappoints!!

Lockwood x Reader - London Boy

A/N: While I was researching possible words to mispronounce whyy did I find out that I was pronouncing one of them wrong this wholeee time AHHH also why was it so hard to find a gif where he's smiling. Netflix pls renew the series to give him more screentime where he doesn't look like he wants to dies plzzz. also this starts with a letter written by the reader to her sister a week after moving to London, 3.1k, enjoy!!

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope things are fine over there. London is...interesting. It's very cold and wet, for one. I always feel like I'm one gust of wind away from catching a cold, but a friend took me shopping a few days back, and I've got a much warmer coat now. You'd love Lucy, she's got your sense of humour and everything.

Things didn't work out so well at Fittes. Or Rotwell. Or any of the other agencies I had shortlisted. I'm at a small independent, Lockwood & Co. There's only four of us and Mr. Lockwood's only a year older than me (a misnomer if I ever saw one, I thought he'd be closer to eighty than eighteen), but they get by just fine and I'm learning loads.

Part of me still wonders if I made the right choice by leaving. I wish I was home; warm, dry and safe. I miss the fields, the bonfires, the cheap juice boxes... miss you and mum to bits. Give her all my love.

"Writing a letter?"

She slammed a hand over her postcard with an aggressiveness that shocked her as much as him. She was sitting at the kitchen table, opting for a change of scenery while she drafter her note. It was morning, and from the shuffling sounds outside, George and Lucy seemed to also be awake, but only Lockwood was in the kitchen with her. And the thing about Lockwood was - well, he made her a little skittish.

She panicked at his slightly taken aback expression, rushing to make amends. "No! I mean, yes, I am writing a letter. It's for my sister, Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry I startled you, I don't mean to pry."

"You weren't." God, did she completely forget how to hold a normal conversation? It was mind-numbingly difficult to generate coherent words or even thoughts with his buttery smooth posh accent washing over her. "I just - we keep odd hours and with the time zone difference I haven't had the time to talk to them on the phone."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

She looked down into her tea, suddenly shy. Keeping eye contact with him was difficult enough when they were all in the room, but his undivided attention was simply unbearable. There was something so intentional in his gaze that made her too nervous to think too much about it. So that just left a knot in her chest that would throb and set her ablaze any time he got too close. That, coupled with their extremely embarrassing first meeting, made her especially prone to stuttering or leaving the room whenever Lockwood was around.

Ironically, he was away handling a mild Type One case in Sidcup, for which the prestigious clientele warranted the inconvenient travel, during her interview. Which was just as well, because she was sure she wouldn't have been able to force anything out with him watching her as closely as George had. She had seen the newspaper clippings on the wall, but the dates had been cut off, so it hadn't been immediately obvious to her that he was a teenager like the rest of them. Besides, who had heard of an agency run by three teenagers and no adults?

Which was why she nearly fell out of her armchair the following morning when the front door opened to the sound of unfamiliar yet boyish laughter. The briefcase carelessly left by the entry way to the living room caught her eye first, followed by his crisp suit, his straight tie, and finally, the man himself.

She wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but as he grinned with his dimples mischievously winking at her, she felt that if anyone could change her mind, it just might be him. She felt the palms resting on her book grow clammy as her heart thudded dangerously, And this was all before he had even spoken or looked at her. As soon he opened his mouth, she was a goner.

"You guys have to read this: 'Lockwood & Co. - the answer to the Problem? For an independent agency with less resources yet arguably more success than the big two, could they be the key to ridding our world of visitors? Read more on pa-' Page six? So much of that trouble, all for a page six?"

"Now look what you've done, Lockwood. You've scared our newest member mute with that demented laugh of yours."

"How could I forget? Y/N L/N, the one agent with enough talent to, and I quote, 'somewhat-kind-of satisfy' George Karim. I was positively racing home to meet you. Forgive my, hmm, associates. I hope they didn’t give you too rough of a time."

"You make it sound like we're degenerates!"

"They can be quite bothersome when they want to be. I'm Anthony Lockwood, of Lockwood & Co."

He stuck out a hand, and she blinked at him. She felt a bubble of nervous laughter lodged in her throat, almost half-inclined to believe that this was all a bit; he really was that ridiculously attractive. His dazzling smile faltered, morphing into one of concern, until Lucy knocked enough sense back into her to respond. She shook his hand, embarrassed, mumbling a greeting. He walked away, loosening his tie, and she buried her nose deeper into the paper, wishing it would just swallow her whole.

They had been terribly busy the past week, and during the day she would mostly tag along with Lucy, so their paths rarely crossed. There was this one time when he had just been coming down the stairs as she and Lucy were returning from their shopping trip. She froze halfway in the motion of taking her coat off, then shrugged it back on. He looked mildly confused. She was desperately confused. She didn't appreciate Lucy's snicker.

"New coat."

"Yeah. It's real warm."

"I can see that." Her coat looked not all that much bulkier than Lucy's, but she could still hear the smile in his voice as she pulled her gloves off. Somehow, she managed to coordinate her limbs enough to take the coat off and hang it like a normal person, before briskly walking up to the attic, the side of her face burning from when she passed Lockwood.

"It's real warm." Lucy wasted no time teasing her as soon as they were in the attic. She groaned.

"What else was I supposed to say?"

"You were really excited about the pockets at the shop."

"They're-"

"Faux fur-lined, yes, you've told me a thousand times." She gave a knowing half-smile. "Couldn't manage telling him once?"

"He'd think they were stupid. He'd think I was stupid." Even more stupid that he already thinks, she wanted to say. But who could blame him? For all he knew, she didn't have enough brain cells to string three coherent words together.

Their cases were tiring, but the routine was still so new that more often than not, she would be too wired to peacefully knock out in the attic with Lucy after their cases. She'd open the door to the attic just a crack, and listen to the soothing sounds of paperwork rustling in the library, watching the barely visible soft shadows of Lockwood moving about. She could glean that they were a little burdened by the absence of a pair of hands, and she had tried to offer her help, but all she got was distracted pats on the forehead as her words went in one ear and out the other. She couldn't blame them; they really did look stretched thin, which made her especially thankful for Lucy's company even at their busiest.

Still, that didn't stop her from carrying her blankets down to the door to the attic in the dead of the night, leaning her head against the banister. If she were lucky, she'd catch a faint strain of Lockwood humming. As cheery and disarming as he was, picturing him humming felt too intimate. The little that she could hear reverberated through her skull, the notes knocking into her other drifting thoughts about him, his British smile and his stormy London eyes. But the Lockwood she curiously dreamt of at night never reconciled with the Lockwood she saw walking and talking during the day, and so their relationship had come to a sort of standstill, where he would smile at her and she would take the first socially-acceptable chance to flee the room. Only, it was a bit harder to escape early in the morning when they were the only ones in the kitchen.

Fortunately, the others soon came, and the tension eased. Lucy came in, sleepily trying to scrounge up some tea while George went off on Lockwood about his sleep schedule, or lack thereof, while Lockwood tried to stuff his face and busy himself in gathering his documents to keep from answering. She took advantage of the bustle to discreetly sift through the drawers. Lucy had mentioned that they had a postage drawer somewhere, but she didn't want to be too much of a burden by asking again.

"George, lay off me, I've got to get to DEPRAC. Luce and I will meet you at the Archives and - oh, darling, we keep the stamps here." Lockwood paused his hunt for some brown, non-descript envelope to pull open a drawer between the two of them. She could feel her face starting to warm, but only because of the embarrassment, not the nickname. "Mailman should be coming around soon, so you might want to hurry. Luce, yesterday's client should be coming around near 5 and you promised Holly you'd do the invoices while she was away. Oh, what now George?" She ducked her head, muttering some thanks that went unheard as George tried to force out how many hours Lockwood had slept, practically chasing him out of the house. Lucy raised her eyebrows suggestively, which she pointedly ignored.

That day was the most dull one yet, where she rolled around the house like a lost penny, trying to occupy herself. A letter arrived some time in the late morning, and she took the liberty of starting its case report file. Lockwood was the first one free, arriving home a little after lunch. She told him as soon as she saw him, while he was still taking his coat off, forcing the words out before she lost her nerve.

"We got a new case while you were gone. I started its file."

"Wonderful. Thanks, love." He rolled up his sleeves, putting on the kettle, while she surreptitiously leaned against the wall for support, trying not to think about how effortlessly pet names dripped off his tongue, like honey, before she got too shaky in the knees. She pressed on.

"It was from a Lew-tenant Smith."

"Who?"

"Lew-tenant Smi..." her voice trailed off. No, that didn't sound right. She couldn't imagine any of them saying it like that. Lockwood briefly leaned over her shoulder, a faint smell of soap lingering around him, before his eyebrows unfurrowed and he returned to his tea.

"Oh, I see. We pronounce it as 'left-tenant.' Now, where's he staying?"

Oh dear. She wasn't entirely sure. "Erm, Ald-wykh?"

"Ald-wich, we call it."

"Ah." Some part of her wanted to apologise, but he was looking at her with a strange twist to his lips and a certain fondness was shining in her eyes that, once again, she was rendered speechless. A silence followed, and for once, she willed herself to bear it.

"You haven't been stuck at home all day, have you? Have you been outside during the day any time this week?"

"I, er-"

"Luce, what kind of a friend are you?" Lockwood spun around to accost Lucy, who had wandered into the living room to see the commotion, bleary-eyed from whatever lair she had retired to to iron out the paperwork. "Y/N must be feeling cooped up. We should make a day trip of it. We'll get a break one of these days, and we'll take you around London, do all of it: high tea, the West End, go to a pub, watch some rugby- how are you with heights? Interested in the London Eye?"

Lucy groaned, stealing Lockwood's tea. "I don't know how Holly does it."

"Well, for one, I don't think she lets it pile up like you do."

Lucy shot Lockwood a dirty look, taking his biscuit too before turning back apologetically. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but how about next week?"

She laughed, pulling a weak smile from Lucy. "Don't sweat it. Hopefully, I'll still be around then." Lucy waved goodbye, retiring to her mountains of paperwork.

"Well, there goes my tea. Would you like some...?"

"Tea? Oh, um, sure."

"Brilliant. See you outside in five minutes." With that, he left the kitchen. Once she had caught up to what had just happened, she slipped her coat on, joining him outside just as he hailed a cab.

Surprisingly, he hadn't been exaggerating: Lockwood was fully prepared to take her to each and every one of those attractions, no matter how long it took. In the end, they narrowed it down to a rainy cab ride to a play at the West End, with high tea afterwards, though they did get around to the rest in the coming weeks. Oddly enough, they never planned it beforehand. The occasional lull in cases would sneak up on them, Lockwood would wander into the living room where she would be fused to an armchair, and suddenly it would be time for yet another trip around London.

But now they were at high tea, tucking in to the fading sunlight and excitedly discussing the play. A wind blew through one of the open windows, and she shivered.

"Everything okay, love?"

"I'm fine. It's just a little draughty, don't you think?"

"A little what?"

"Dra - erm, like, it's windy?"

"Drafty."

"Oh, come now, that sounds nothing like how it's spelt. How was I supposed to know that?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, as he polished off his food. But she was feeling bold enough to not let it drop this time.

"You keep doing that! You smile and turn away or you laugh and it makes me feel like I've put my foot in something - "

"No, no, dear god, no." There he was, laughing again. She hoped he would choke; but not too hard, just enough to shock some sense into him. "You don't - it's not your fault; believe me, I'm just an awful person. It's just...you really try your very best at...everything, really." His eyes fixed on hers and she found herself wanting to never look away. "It's...endearing."

"I’m sorry. I know my accent isn’t the clearest-"

“No, it’s fine. I like it. It’s very unique, and…beautiful. I’d pick your voice out of a crowd.” She felt this warmth wash over, and then chills run down her spine. He made her all nervous and giggly on the inside in a way that made her want to lounge around London, indulging herself in useless thoughts of ridiculous London boys with addictive smiles and silver tongues.

But like all good things, their excursion came to an end. She found herself dragging her feet to the front door with a boy with whom she was too scared to be alone with just 12 hours ago.

"I hope you had fun today. Not feeling too homesick, are you?"

She thought back to the green meadows and lightning bugs that she had dreamed about in the early hours of that morning. That life still seemed so precious, so sacred, but now it was oddly distant, no longer something she yearned for.

"I don't think so. You know what they say, 'home is where the heart is,'" she looked up at him, unable to resist the smile tugging at her lips, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But I think the English aren't half-bad either."

"Not half-bad?" They were so close now, she could feel his breath tickling her forehead. Her heart stuttered. "I took you out to the West End, and you call it 'not half-bad.'"

"Well, there are certain exceptions."

"Like what?"

Her stomach threatened to explode with giddiness. She was having a hard time regulating her breathing and looking at him at the same time. God, she was never beating the 'stupid' allegations. "I don't know," she fibbed in a flimsy attempt to seem cool. "Like...like you."

In the end, it was his eyes that pulled her in, pulled her under, because one moment she was teetering on the precipice of something new and terrifying, and the next there was soft skin brushing her frozen face, warm lips on her chapped ones. He tasted like summer in this cold, dead winter, breathing life and wonder back into her. It was dizzying, exhilarating, heart-palpitations-inducing...it was Lockwood, surrounding and consuming all her senses.

He pulled away, and all she stared at him blankly, as if he had stolen the words at the tip of her tongue. He gave a half-smile, and she grinned at him. He opened the door for her, murmuring in her ear in a way that filled her brain with pleasant static. "After you, darling." She rolled her eyes reflexively as a defense mechanism, but still her heart fluttered. They walked in to find George sorting the mail, mildly peeved, mildly concerned.

"Ah, so you two finally decide to show up. You could've been dead in a ditch for all we know. Your dinner's gone cold, you know."

Lucy had skipped down the stairs once the front door opened, a little too immediately for her liking and now her eyes narrowed teasingly. All of a sudden, she had the embarrassing realisation how visible the front porch was from the attic. There was colour in Lucy's cheeks, which probably meant that she had somehow managed to work through all that paperwork. Drat. "I dunno. I think Mr. and Mrs. 'Darling' are- "

"Luce! Have I...told you about my coat pockets?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, heading back to the attic, while George shook his head and handed her a postcard. Lockwood's fingers lingered briefly on her wrist as he walked away, leaving her and her mind all topsy-turvy. With a start, she pulled herself away from delicious thoughts of Lockwood to the postcard in her hand. She scanned it eagerly, lips twitching as she reached the end of it. Her sister could be just as ridiculous and delusional as her sometimes, and she wasn't even in the same country.

Y/N -

Can't say much, haven't got the time. All's well here and we miss you dearly too. The house is just too quiet, but mum seems to be adjusting. We saw a picture of your boss in the paper the other day.

London boys truly are a different breed, aren't they?

Love, Lizzie.

[sparklepirate]

Alright, final thoughts on Inheritance.

;-;

Eragon continues to be the guy of all time. I love him. He really displayed a maturity in this book that I think supersedes anything we've seen of him in all the previous books, and just like... His strength really is that he is compassionate and thoughtful towards everyone. Even Murtagh, now, too. He had the realization of how close he was to sharing his fate, sought to understand him, and that was ultimately what led him to realizing his true name had changed, tearing down Galbatorix's wards, etc etc. I don't know that I could properly articulate everything about him here, but Eragon definitely became the hero he needed to be by the end of the series, 100%. He is the only person who could've possibly thought of the final piece of magic to defeat Galbatorix. Even the dreams of starlings are equal to the worries of a king. Ahhh, it's so good. ❤️ I'm so proud of him.

On the other hand, Barst was some bullshit. Bro. Like, on the one hand, it was a very good climactic battle for Roran to participate in, and his triumph was the perfect culmination of his character- cunning in battle, cunning in strategy, the intelligence and charisma to sway everyone around him into cooperating and working together, sheer determination so intensely strong that he was able to crush and Eldunarí with his bare hands. His role was perfect! But Barst as a villain was kinda... Well, first of all, he came completely the fuck out of nowhere. He wasn't mentioned at all until they were already on their way to Uru'baen, and then he was only MENTIONED. They didn't hype him up enough before the actual battle in my opinion. And ONE human and one Eldunarí being enough to beat the QUEEN OF THE ELVES in hand to hand combat...? I mean, I guess that could work but... Ehhh... I dunno. It kind of felt like an excuse for Islanzadí to die, and Roran to triumph more than anything. It was cool, but it was probably the weakest part of the plot in my opinion.

That said though I think it's pretty safe to say this was my favorite book of the series. I'm having trouble recalling all the iconic shit (I took a pretty long break from reading about halfway through the book) but there was soooo much cool stuff in here. The Nasuada being kidnapped and being helped by Murtagh arc is GOLD, Vroengard was amazing, and all the battles were SO well written??? I need to study these books more closely just to learn how to write compelling fight scenes. Honestly, it's gripping stuff. I was on the edge of my seat, despite knowing how everything turns out.

Nasuada is amazing, Arya is amazing, Saphira is amazing, Roran is amazing, MURTAGH is amazing... I think I already liked basically every character in this series going in, but I somehow like them even more now that I've read it again. Everyone is so good, and interesting, and I want to be everyone's friend. I think the only character I liked less this go around was Orrin (sorry to my Orrin stan friend out there). That said, though, I don't dislike him, I think I just went from positive to neutral about him.

Orrin honestly just didn't get nearly as much screen time as I remembered? We only see him a handful of times throughout the book and each time the only thing he's doing is getting drunk and making an ass of himself, though... Idk, he also has a point? He has his own unique point of view, and his own unique experiences that lead him to his own ideas of how to conduct things, and it is definitely kind of true that like no one ever really listens to him or takes him seriously, despite being the King of Surda for w while at that point. I don't think there was a more graceful solution to the division of power/territory after Galbatorix was killed than what was decided upon, because like... Realistically, Orrin was never gonna be high king. He had good reason to assert for the throne, sure, but actually ascending to the throne? That is SUCH a far reach for power, unless the aim was to assimilate Surda in and have all of the humans under one crown. Nah, Nasuada giving up territory and ascending to the throne was the better choice, even if I do empathize with Orrin's point of view. It seems like Nasuada did as well, because even though she was persistent, she seemed to be gentle and sympathetic with him. He even had his line about like... "Why do you even want to do this?" "None of you would understand." Idk. Very interesting, but not tremendously notable compared to others, and he definitely was a bit of an asshole at times.

Murtagh my beloved my BELOVED I'm honestly just gonna make a whole separate essay post about him because his shit is Complicated™️ but one little note it was such a small detail at the end but I love that he said to Eragon "Hey check in on Arya about killing Shruikan. It couldn't have been easy for an elf to kill a dragon." And Eragon hadn't even THOUGHT of that and Arya probably would've been the last thing on his mind but he still was just so thoughtful. He is thoughtful like his brother and he cares so deeply and AHHH!!! And actually I want to see him and Arya be buds. I think they would have a cool dynamic. And also I love that he never once hesitated to acknowledge Eragon as his brother and just wanted to be with him and finally Eragon also acknowledged him as a brother too that last scene with them was just so good 🥹

Also I love how Thorn's like only spoken line in the whole series (until November) is to boop Eragon on the forehead and say "Hi. Thank you for not killing my rider. :)" and Murtagh is just like "Yeah thanks for that. 😒"

Love how quick Saphira and Fírnen hit it off lol. They really played tag and wrestled for like five minutes and then were like "Alright we're gonna go fuck like now see y'all later ✌️" And Eragon's like "Is this??? Okay???" And Saphira's like "Pfft dragon's don't mate for life 🤷‍♀️" Their little romance was so cute.

CAN WE FUCKING TALK ABOUT QUEEN AND RIDER ARYA??? That shit is by FAR the wildest endgame decision Chris made because like. That. That's so fucking. Oh my god??? Like, one, poor Arya!! She just wanted to be a rider and have adventures! She probably would've either spent her time happy herrying eggs across Alegaësia, or she would've gone with Eragon to Mount Arngor, but you can NOT convince me that she would be particularly happy as queen. She's grieving the loss of her mother that she barely had a relationship with, and denied the other eleven leaders for a full week before they convinced her to do it!!! Girlie!!! You deserve to be happy!!! And, two, the obvious point of holy shit that is such an enormous power imbalance in favor of the elves. Like, there is a REASON the riders were separate in the first place!! And, you know, Galbatorix JUST died and now there is another rider/monarch and it's the ELVES who have historically been both the most powerful race, and the race with the best relationship with the dragons. And Arya is the ONLY RIDER LEFT IN ALEGAËSIA!!! Because Eragon is gone (and stubbornly convinced that He Shall Never Again Return Oh Woe Is Him) and Murtagh is... Also gone to an extent. He at the very least holds no political power. Basically everyone hates him, and those that don't can't do more than, like, pardon him, for whatever that's worth. I just can't see this not rubbing people the wrong way, and not coming to an eventual head. Nasuada and Arya are both great, but I just get the feeling there is going to eventually be some sort of conflict between them, no matter how much neither of them want it. I do think Arya is perhaps the least corruptible person, other than maybe Eragon but... I don't knowwww maaaan it's complicated!!

Also I regret to inform everyone that rereading the last little bit did make me ship Eragon and Arya a teensy tinsy itty little bit. Just a liiiiittle bit. Like idk the last fairth and the telling each other their true names and calling each other their true names and Eragon's grief at leaving and his vow to love her forever and her insinuation of maybe one day just got to me alright???

There were a lot of cool magic things in this book! Like the pocket space that the Eldunarí were kept in? Cuaroc's body? More shit that I'm forgetting? God I would just love, like, a magical encyclopedia or something idk. Lots of cool shit. And artifacts!! I want to learn about more magical artifacts.

Also at my Galbatorix stan mutual? I'm a certified Murtagh Girlie™️ and therefore obligated to hold a grudge but like. I do get it. He is a... Very competent villain.

Alright I think that's it for now but. Wow. Man oh man. There is a reason I love this series. I'll probably think of some more things to talk about later, and I'm gonna be participating in the Big Bang, and I'll probably post about The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm as I reread that but yeah!!! Can't wait for November!!

[fallingforel]

I also went through your prompt list and I’d love to see you write something for Sam with this 63: “I hate seeing you like this.”

Thank you so much!! 😘

THIS IS SO SO SO LATE!!! i apologise ive just been going through INSANE writers block so i think ive finally come up with something! i’ve decided to combine these and i hope your happy with it!!! I honestly had half of this written before my christmas series but I had just got around to finishing it now.

prompts 14, 17, 18, 21, 63: “That’s new.” “Are you okay?” “I’ve got you.”“Do you like it?” “i hate seeing you like this”

words: 680

⋆｡°✩

⋆｡°✩

“honey, I’m home. I’ve got you something too” sam shouted up the stairs, sam and I had been together for 2 years now and it was going good, we were a well established couple, living together having just moved in to a new house together this spring. I was upstairs in bed just scrolling through my phone looking at everyone that went to the eras tour over the weekend. i missed the ticket sales though, having just moved in with sam everything was a bit hectic.

“Up here” I shouted back. Footsteps soon echoed up the stairs. and then to the door which opened up and sam popped his head round before noticing me in bed. “what you doing gorgeous?” “just scrolling on instagram. Whaddya get me?” “ahhh ever the impatient miss Y/L/N. I got you a couple things actually while I was out with mum. close yer eyes and hold out yer hands then.” I did as I was told and felt the bed dip beside me and something hook onto my fingers. “reet. this is yer first one, open them” I opened my eyes to be met with a bag from Primark. i looked through the bag to find a grey sparkly top and bottoms along with a pair of black heeled boots and a track suit bottoms with trainers. "Do you like it darling?"

“of course I do, I love it, I love anything you get me Sam, Thank you. But what’s all this for?” I ask turning my head to look at him. “reet, the tracksuit and trainers are because ye always steal mine and then I never have any left to wear but the sparkly set and boots are for something we’re going to tonight. but I can’t say until you’ve opened the rest of yer presents like.” “wowww more than one present from my boyfriend, that’s new” “shuddup, yer divvy” “i’m only kidding idiot” i say going in for a kiss but he swerves me for his cheek. “not until yer’ve opened the rest of yer presents, same position again” he says grabbing my hands and holding them over my eyes "oooh kinky" "shurrup yer divvy" he says and I hear sams bedside drawer open and i feel something being placed in my lap. "reet yer can look now" I open my eyes to find a card in my lap. "Sam are you okay? Why have you got me a card yer haven't missed an anniversary or a birthday." "Just open it will yer." he says getting impatient. I open the envelope to find a card that reads "just to say I love you" I open the card and a piece of paper falls out that has tonights date on it and eras tour. I start crying. "ohhh y/n. If I had known you would act like this I wouldn't have got you them, I hate seeing you like this darling" he says "I'm fine Sam honestly, happy tears I promise." "Okay if your sure. go and get yourself ready then darling we need to be at the train station in an hour, we're staying in london aswell" "Oh I love you sam" I say looping my hands around his neck and bringing him in for a kiss.

⋆｡°✩

2 hours later we arrived in london and had made it to check in at our hotel and dumped our stuff and walked to wembley stadium and made our way to the VIP tent.

It got closer to the evermore set and it wasn't long before marjorie started playing and I had broke down crying as I had lost my own nan who I was very close to at the start of the year. Sam saw that I had started crying so he held my phone for me and looped his free arm around my waist and nuzzled his face into my neck after whispering "I've got you darling" and placing a kiss on my cheek. It was definetely one of my favourite moments I've ever had with sam, and I will cherish it forever.

⋆｡°✩

end.

[lusthurts]

sebastian and blaine for the character asks <3

ahhh hi bestie im so excited to yap about these two <333

sebastian smythe

how I feel about this character

Sebastian is the love of my life <3 I'm obsessed with writing this character and reading this character and consuming any and all content related to this character.

I have sooooo many head canons about him, and the way I feel about him/his backstory/his personality has evolved a ton over the years, even since I've been writing about him. He has that snark and edge that I love to a character with a clearly very interesting past that we have complete creative liberties to explore. it's so fun and I love him !

all the people I ship romantically with this character

BLAINE! seblaine is of course my otp, and no ship will ever come close to them for me in terms of the extreme brain rot obsession I have because of them - I love that they sort of balance each other out and have this undeniable chemistry that's pretty monumental for both of them and leaves a lot of room for us to explore

I don't think anything will ever come close to them for me, and I fully cannot bring myself to get behind kurtbastian no matter how much I love enemies to lovers as a trope (though when my mutuals write kurtbastian I still try to read it lol)

I did enjoy writing jeff x sebastian in how bright we burn (totally snuck up on me on accident - he needed to be with one of the other warblers for plot reasons and I picked Jeff because they're always in shots together in canon) but that's not something I think I'd ever be super into on like,, a bigger scale - I love it as a platonic ship though

my non-romantic otp for this character

honestly, the warblers as a whole - I really like the idea of Sebastian not really fitting in anywhere/never feeling at home anywhere before dalton and being very reluctant to get close with them at first which resulted in him coming on a little strong/trying to take control rather than trying to develop meaningful friendships, but then by the end he's found he really cares about them and wants them to succeed and finally feels like he's found a home and core group of friends

OH and i ADORE his friendship with cooper in the I'll be there for you series - their dynamic together is fantastic and I think probably the best written friendship for Sebastian that I've ever read

my unpopular opinion about this character

I'm not sure if this is unpopular or not, but I do really like that he's an imperfect person who clearly has a lot of growing up to do. He acts like an asshole and he is one kind of a lot of the time, but even the things he does maliciously aren't meant to be that harmful, and there's clearly a complicated person beneath the surface. I love slutty Sebastian and snarky Sebastian and bullying/blackmail/assault Sebastian so so much

I also don't like the idea of him being "soft" or immediately comfortable in a relationship with blaine just because he's the person he's meant to be with - a lot of my head canons about him revolve around him having a kind of unhealthy relationship with love/relationships, and I don't think it's realistic that they'd just immediately be in a happy relationship. I love fluff as much as the next person, but I definitely don't think their problems end when they get together.

one thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon

obviously seblaine - even if they'd just given us a little bit behind the scenes (what were those phone calls and texts??? they were clearly good friends!!)

I wish he'd been around more after season 3 - I realize because of real life reasons this was impossible, and he probably would've been back quite a bit if it wasn't for the flash, but I would've loved to see him develop friendships and plots and sing more songs and maybe have a relationship or two

blaine anderson

how I feel about this character

he's one of my first favorite glee characters and one of the main reasons I still love this show

I think I relate to him more than I relate to any of the other characters in the show - he has that passionate, overachiever, ruthless drive for success thing that Rachel has but he's also clearly very anxious about things and experiences depression and has some attachment issues, and I think all that makes him a much more complicated character than he's given credit for

all the people I ship romantically with this character

Sebastian ofc - see above lol

I used to be a huge blam fan - I haven't read or written them in a long time but I still think this is probably my second favorite blaine ship - they have a lot of chemistry together with a lot of fantastic scenes and development in season 4 specifically, and I think this would've been a cool path to go down during their senior year in the post-kurt/mercedes era

I also used to love klaine (prior to realizing how toxic that relationship was lol) - they were def cute in season 2, and they were probably one of the first queer ships I saw on tv that I felt that attached too. I think if handled better in the later seasons they could've been great, and I think if they're written well they can be a lovely ship - I played blaine in a glee rpg during covid (dark times lmao) and I found writing klaine with a person who really cared for writing Kurt's character well to be super fun

my non-romantic otp for this character

definitely sam & tina! blamtina is my favorite trio in the show, and I think their friendship felt very realistic and well-developed, especially for something that really only existed to that extent for one season

a close second would be rachel - I think blaine and rachel definitely get each other in a way the other new directions don't really, and I enjoy their dynamic a lot, especially in the beginning of season 6

oh and the warblers. he referred to that group as a brotherhood and then just,, left ? makes it hard to believe they were as close as he said, but I also will die on the hill that he must've had strong relationships with those guys if they got him from how he must've felt post Sadie Hawkins to the guy that was confidently singing the lead at every performance

my unpopular opinion about this character

while I do think he was occasionally too whiny and treated as a caricature in the later seasons, I also think a lot of that was the natural progression of his character given the circumstances he was dealing with. I think it's very natural for insecurities to come up when you go from where he was at in season 2 (star/lead vocalist of the warblers, admired and beloved by his peers, confidently helping Kurt through the bullying and trauma of McKinley) to season 3 (ignored/disregarded by ND's leaders like finn, only getting the occasional line or two in performances, treated almost exclusively as Kurt's boyfriend)

he was more interesting in seasons 2 & 4 when he was single than he was at any point during his relationship with kurt

one thing I wish had happened with this character in canon

seblaine !

or honestly getting to see him in any romantic relationship with someone other than Kurt (karofsky doesn't count lol we all collectively pretend that didn't happen)

why do we know like nothing about his life !! he's one of the major characters in the show (second in solos only to Rachel I think?) and yet all we get are a few one off and very concerning lines about his dad??? then his mom randomly shows up at the wedding??? and cooper's there but only for an episode and then never brought up again??? girl what I need to know his lore

[moonspirit]

Hello! I'm super late to the aot and aruani train (having just binged the entire show start to finish like 2 months ago over 4 days lmao) but I just gotta say that I really enjoyed your Fort Salta series! Annie and Armin were legit my favourites already during my first watch of the anime, and it really saddened me to know that it seems alot of people online really hate Annie? Like (no hate on any other characters) but Annie is legit best girl how tf can people hate on her ;-; Anyways, I've been ecstatic since I've found your fics and blog along with many others (shoutout to distortedclouds and flailingkittylover too!!) bc it felt like I finally found my people - good to know I'm not the only one brain-rotting from this show and especially over these two xD I've been dying to talk to someone about this recent discovery of mine since I've started reading the manga though...did you know that Armin has been taller than Annie since even before she was crystalized?? In the anime he's like the shortest person pre-timeskip beside Historia, but turns out it's not the case in the manga! In volume 8 when Armin confronts Annie in Stohess, he's clearly drawn to be slightly taller than her in the scene - I thought it was just a perspective error, but it's drawn that way over multiple pages so it's definitely intended! Makes the whole height/size difference thing even more adorable omg ;-;

Ahhh hello there! First off: Welcome, welcome to the Aot fandom, and the AruAni fandom in particular! No time is too late, we're all happy to have one new aruani fan join in haha xD

I agree that while it's very sad seeing the Annie haters, it's best to ignore them. They may have their reasons or not (tho tbh, those of us in the Annie/AruAni fandom would say they just have a very poor or nil understanding of her character). Annie's an extremely well written character honestly; @distortedclouds and I once had this conversation where she was talking about how Isayama managed to give Annie flawless character development in spite of portraying her as the non-typical badass female (in that she doesn't have huge, heroic ambitions and etc) - and I agreed wholeheartedly. Annie's very strong and lethal, but in her vulnerability and desire to be loved and wanted, I think we can all see a bit of ourselves.

Wait I digressed xD My point: Annie's best girl, and we stay away from the haters and stick to worshipping her. Strengthening the Temple of Annie Leonhardt must be our ultimate goal.

I would go on a rant about Armin too being the best, bestest, bestestest boy, and of our other goal of strengthening the Temple of Armin Arlert, but that is for another post, maybe xD

Regarding the height difference! I believe it's an established fact that Armin has always been taller than Annie, right from the beginning. If I remember right, the official Character Guidebook (2014) which was based on the first 11 volumes of the manga, listed Armin as 163cms while Annie was 153. While he's one of the shortest among the boys in general (and post-timeskip he's taller than Levi), he's been at least a whole head taller than Annie ever since they joined the military. Post timeskip, he's 169cms while Annie remains apparently unchanged, so the gap is larger, and likely to grow an inch or two more (since he's only 19). Anyway, yes it's fucking cute, and don't get me started on the size difference ����🫠🫠

Once again, welcome to the aruani fandom here, there's lots of lovely people with great blogs writing fics, making art, brainrotting 24/7 and posting about AruAni all the time, and we're very happy to have you be a part of it, here!

And thank you so much for reading the Fort Salta series T/////T I'm very grateful.

[forest-hashira]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

AHHH LIN!!! ok ok uhhhh. this is cheating a little bit bc two of these are series but they really are so special to me, i can't possibly pick just one chapter/installment from either of them. anyways, here are five of my favorites, not necessarily in order (edit: why the FUCK was this so hard???):

Noble Blood - stsg x gn reader; jjk dragon rider au. by word count, this is the longest multichap fic i've ever posted. it's really niche, since it's 1.) a reader insert, 2.) a poly ship, & 3.) a high fantasy AU, but it one of my favorite things i've ever written in my life, and i've been writing (fic & original writing) for over half my life.

Transfem Gojo - trans woman gojo satoru x gn reader. i've always loved playing around with characters' genders and sexualities, which like... there's definitely some projection happening there, but we don't need to talk about that. i also didn't expect the concept to turn into a whole series, but it has, and honestly i couldn't be happier about it, especially when it brought one of my favorite people into my life ( @dr-runs-with-scissors ily) and when i see how much other people love her, even if it's a very small group. again, a very niche concept, but i love it.

Too Much - kocho shinobu x gn autistic reader; shinobu helps reader through a meltdown. this fic was a gift for red ( @redlikerozez), actually! i really like this one bc, as someone who is autistic, it fulfilled a very specific hole in the reader insert space (at least in my experience). it was also nice to write for a character i hadn't yet written for, who is also a female characters and a character that generally has less fic written about her!

Lucky Shot - outlaw geto suguru & fem reader; platonic w/ open ending; gun violence, blood/injury, minor character death. i really liked all the entries i did for riley's collab, but this one is probably my favorite of the three! it was also my first geto fic that didn't include gojo.

Day Off - maki & gn reader; you spend the day at the arcade. this fic is the only one i've ever written based on a request (for @/yuutito), but it was so much fun to write! maki deserves more fics and writing something platonic is always nice.

honorable mention goes to my selkie shoko x gn reader fic Lost & Found.

[heroes-in-the-dark]

Hi!!! First of all, I love your work. It is so well written, and second, I want to salute you because when I checked how many pages is the book (I can't call it a fanfic anymore, this is a whole book) it's over 1300 pages. You have my full respect!

Ahhh tysm!!! I'm so glad you've been enjoying it 🥰 it really is the longest single written piece I've ever made, and even now isn't over just yet. Honestly, I have considered picking up book binding just to make myself a physical copy haha. It'd probably be enough for a whole series, even! The best thing about this grand endeavor is that I've been able to improve my writing through it – I even picked up a creative writing minor and started writing for zines halfway through this story. So it really has been worth it!

[spicysix]

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @missberrycake thank you lovely ♡

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

38!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

115,027!!! that's so many words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently, only Stranger Things. before, i've written for a bunch of RPF - McFly, The Maine, One Direction. don't think i had ever written for a show/movie before

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

crush crush crush - steddie X reader

fuck-marry-kill - steve X reader

it feels like i'm going home - eddie X reader

now i'm ready to start - eddie X reader

love sneaked in with the smell of you - eddie X reader

i find it very funny that my top 5 (actually, my top 9!!!) it's all reader inserts. didn't think they'd be popular at Ao3 hah

5. Do you respond to comments?

i do!!! currently i have a lot of comments to answer to, because i've been a little away from fandom and specifically from writing since last year, and haven't found it in myself to answer them. but i will!!!!! someday

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

me and you (we can't lose) [eddie X reader] definetely. canon compliant. that's all needed to understand lmao but some of the drabbles for my Forever Halloween Challenge are also very angsty and gory

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

basically all my other fics have happy endings, so that's a hard thing to answer lol i think it's relative

8. Do you get hate on fics?

never did, thankfully!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i've only ever wrote one smut scene for going home and nothing else in english. in portuguese, i've had a series of three short smut fics that i never finished lol. it's not my thing and it's hard for me to do it because of the language barrier in english, i feel insecure about it. i just prefer writing pure fluff in general

10. Do you write crossovers?

never did, no, cause it's usually not something i like to read as well

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

also not that i know of but that would be so nice if done with permission!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

also no. i think i'd have a bit of a hard time, but wouldn't be opposed to it

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

i'll say that nothing has ever got me as much as Steddie before. i've always been a reader insert girlie, besides the first fics that i've ever read (Jemi - joe jonas X demi lovato) fics, i'm pretty sure Steddie was the only characters ship that i've read and got completely obsessed over

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

your sweater (up over your head) [stonathan]. this fic is very special to me and a personal challenge in many ways, and i'd love to finish it someday but i'm not sure i'll get back to writing ST, so it's a hard chance

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'd say dialogue! it flows very naturally to me

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

description. haaaate describing things, scenarios, clothes, faces, animals, whatever. i think i'm really mediocre if not entirely bad at it

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

if it's through someone's specific POV, i'm in favor of writing as the character understands it - so if they understand the language, keep it translated and just describe that it was in another language; but if they don't understand, then don't translate either. then you can either put it on a note or make the character who said it translate it. but also, if it's too big of a text, i think it can be annoying. so, mostly short phrases it's good

19. First fandom you wrote for?

McFly rpf reader insert

20. Favourite fic you've written?

ahhh that is such a hard question, i love all my fics so dearly. but i'm gonna go with going home because it's my first and only finished long chaptered fic, and all the research i did for it and everything else involved in writing it that made it a bit more special

Tagging (no pressure): @marvel-ous-m @hbyrde36 @stellarspecter @starryeyedjanai and anyone else who sees it and wants to join in!

[josukespimphand]

I've been meaning to watch Jujutsu Kaisen. What got you watching? I just finished season one of Delicious in Dungeon.

Ahhh I’ve been watching/ reading it since the first season! I originally got into JJK because of Gojo… I didn’t even know who he was but I remember scrolling on twitter and seeing someone with a cropped closeup of Gojo’s face from vol. 4? But I remember being too shy to ask this person who he was/ what series was he from lol. I remember seeing the art and thinking “not to sound weird but I really love how this guys teeth is drawn…” and so, I reversed image searched the drawing and wala!

This was a few months before S1 had even gotten announced, too. I remember pulling up the manga and reading a few pages and not getting all that far (I was being lazy tbh.) but then, the anime had gotten announced and I was like “wait, isn’t this the series that I just found out about a couple of months ago??? It looks fun :0!!!” But even then, I still hadn’t started on reading it until after the second episode was released lmfao.

I actually ended up binging the manga in one night and at the time, there were only about 50ish chapters available so I was literally fiending for more if I’m being real 😭… I was so crazwkskakal. I wasn’t too nuts about Gojo originally (I was definitely a FAN but I remember being so normal about him during S1’s original run lmfao. The things I’ve said about that man… I’m a Gojo girl unfortunately….. I’m still kind of normal about him though. He’s a very well written character and deserves all of the love he gets as a character kakakak. It’s so easy to like him!

I do tend to stay away from fandoms in general (I’ve done this ever since I’d started to use social media) but especially regarding the fans of the stuff I actually enjoy. Outside of the classics like Naruto (always in my heart…) and such, I haven’t really enjoyed a new age shounen and series this much with my whole heart since JJBA (not new age but you get it) and if you’ve been following this blog for a while then you must know that I used to be such a huge fan of it! (I still am but I’ve calmed down… I miss it a whole lot actually. I still have to catch up with JoJolands… haven’t gotten that far tbh.)

DM is fun but I haven’t gotten all that far into the manga (only ever read the first chapter and that was years ago) but I watched the first 12 or so episodes and I really enjoyed them! Haven’t looked back (it’s hard to keep up with anime… and the fans make me not want to interact with it as much tbh…. JJK is diff since i genuinely adore it and I don’t interact with the fans at all anyway outside of a few mutuals/friends and I pretend everything else doesn’t exist 😭…… JJK fans are so 👎🏾 but I’m already invested so it’s a little too late for me to turn back 🫨.)

[bellaxgiornata]

Hi...do you have any suggestions for a beginner fanfic writer?? Maybe some tips?? Love your work btw....i absolutely love your falling for the devil series

Ahhh, thank you so much!! 💖I'm glad you enjoy FFTD!! That series also tends to be my favorite of everything I've written, too. There's just something about FFTD Matty...

I could certainly give you some tips/suggestions that I've learned along the way! I've been writing and reading fanfic since 2005 so I've been around for a bit 😅 Though if there is something more specific that I didn't address--like something more specific with writing or editing or something--you (or anyone else who's curious) can certainly always send me an ask and I will always answer when I have a few minutes! But I'm not going to claim I'm remotely an expert on all of this, either. This is just from my experience and talking with other fic writers.

As always, the answer is below the cut!

First, I think it's always important to keep in mind that the more you write, the better your skill will grow with writing. Which goes for everyone, no matter how long you've been writing for or whatever your age is. I always see an improvement in my writing when I read something from even just a few months ago. And I even cringe at things like the very first Matt fic I wrote or even some early FFTD installments. So don't be too hard on yourself!

I think it's also important to remember to not compare yourself to others. We all have different styles and voices and that's a wonderful thing in writing. If everyone wrote the same or had the same ideas, there'd be nothing interesting to read. Everything would sound the same which would be boring. Personally, I didn't find my writing style/voice and grow comfortable with it until almost a year and a half ago when I started writing for the Daredevil fandom, so it's completely okay if you are still searching for yours.

Don't let any negative comments you might ever receive writing fanfic drag you down. Everyone gets them, and some fandoms have different dynamics than others where it may happen more often than in another one (though come on y'all, can we please practice the don't like don't read rule??). I think anyone who writes fanfic long enough will receive at least some hate. I've certainly gotten plenty over the years, and yes, it sucks and it can hurt or piss you off, but you have to remember to brush it off. There are likely many others enjoying your story to make up for that one person who's being rude. Block buttons can be your friend if you need them.

If you're having trouble writing a character that already exists in the fandom, studying them in the source material is always a good route. The amount of times I've gone and re-watched Daredevil, Punisher, or Kin in order to feel like I capture any of the characters in there just right is absurd, but it really does help to see their mannerisms, speech patterns, and to begin to get a feel of how they'd react in different situations based on how they've reacted in the show.

Lastly, when you write chapters for your fics and it begins to feel daunting, know that you can always break things down into more manageable chunks. I used to struggle to write much at a time until I learned to focus on the story in this way as opposed to focusing on everything that I still needed to make happen. Just focus scene by scene or even line by line. How to get Character A to do this or get to that point, for example, and it should hopefully seem significantly less terrifying. If you try to think of everything that needs to happen in a chapter all at once, it might begin to feel overwhelming and you may have the urge to give up. Try breaking things down and focusing on one thing at a time.

I could absolutely go on but I don't want to ramble! If there's something more specific you're curious about that I didn't touch on, or maybe you'd like more detail about, absolutely feel free to send me another ask! And this goes for anyone who made it through all of this! I always love chatting, sometimes it just takes me a moment to have time to sit down and answer. Hopefully any of this was useful/helpful though! I am always happy to help encourage others to write!!💕

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Whumpmas in July 2024 - Day 1: (Re) Introduce Yourself!

This post is part of my participation in the 2024 @whumpmasinjuly event!

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Howdy, folks! I'm Deedoo! I've been a whump enjoyer for as long as I can remember, though I didn't know there was a term or community for it until somewhere in mid-2023, when I somehow stumbled across a whump fic, found the terms and tags, and the rest was history.

I'm a professionally trained artist who almost never draws (woops), though I sure do like to think about it. I got bitten hard by the writing bug a few years back, and that's been my main creative outlet for a while. I write all kinds of things, and am currently working on a (non-whump) fantasy series that I daydream about potentially publishing one day.

In terms of whump content, I have a WIP whump fic called "We Are TroubleD"! Right now there are several entries up, but they're miscellaneous entries written for a previous whump event that may or may not eventually find their ways into the proper canon story. I'm just having fun with it for now while I write the main story!

Here's a little more about me for those who might be interested:

❤️ Name: Deedoo

💚 Pronouns: she/her

🤍 Favorite season: Fall probably... I love the leaves, the colors on the trees, and of course Halloween! ... But ahhh, spring is so good too because you can go outside after a long cold winter and the flowers are blooming... It's so hard to pick just one season!

❤️ Average amount of sleep: 8 hours hopefully! My sleep schedule is all kinds of goofed up though haha

💚 Dream Job: Something where I can make art (or something that makes me feel creatively fulfilled), pays me well, and doesn't drive me into the ground due to exhaustion and/or long hours (beyond what I can handle).

🤍 Blog established date: Nov 23rd, 2023! Or at least that's when I reblogged my first ever post on here. I'm not quite sure how to check when I actually made this blog!

❤️ Username/blog meaning: I originally wanted to call my self "Whumpty-Dumpty" like "Humpty Dumpty", but that name was already taken, so I went with "Whumpy-Dumpty-Doo" like "Scooby-Doo", and specifically the show "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!"! That theme song frequently plays in my head because of this blog. That's also why the line in my profile asks "Who whumped you?". Now you can sing along with me!

💚 Hobbies: Drawing, crafting, writing, playing video games, watching youtube, and walking!

🤍 What you love about whump: The power dynamics, the struggles, the vulnerabilities, the comfort and care (I ultimately want the whumpees to have happy or at least neutral endings!), and the journey that the whumpees take to overcome, hold on, and survive their traumas. Things can get so emotional, and sometimes it's through the deepest and darkest horrors that you can see the brightest lights at the end of it all.

Plus, the community is so creative!! I love how so much of the whumpsphere is made up of original stories, characters, and art. So many people churn out consistently amazing stuff, and it blows me away.

... Also I'm a sucker for any character who is bound and gagged. It's a freaking weakness. Sue me lmao.

❤️ Anything else to add: I hope that everyone who reads this has a nice day!

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Please note that my blog is meant for an 18+ audience. There are things that I post and reblog that are mature in nature and can sometimes be NSFW and not suitable for minors.

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Tags: @whumpmasinjuly-archive

[justagalwhowrites]

Woke up this morning suddenly wanting to read another Din fic. I haven’t read many but I loved Beskar Doll (🥰) and Stitches. Any suggestions for others that are similar? Hopefully finished or actively updating ❤️

Ahhh Hello Bestie!!!!

I'm so glad you loved Beskar Doll!!! My first baby starring my first obsession, I love Din and Doll so much.

I don't read NEARLY as much Din as I really want to BUT I love the Tin Can Man. I think I'm going to spend some time in the Din Bin in 2024 and you all will suffer the consequences.

Stitches is what got me into fan fic to begin with so I'm so happy you found that one! Right now (shocking absolutely no one I'm sure) I'm obsessed with @netherfeildren's The Cassandra Complex. Her lush writing combined with a powerful, force wielding woman and Din Djarin? Perfection, I'm in love with it. If you've somehow not devoured everything else Vic has ever written, I highly recommend you do, she's just incredible all around.

I tend to read more one shots for Din than full series (I don't know why, I should change that) BUT I've heard incredible things about A Place of Safety and Best Kept Secret (both are set aside on my AO3 to read later but I just haven't gotten around to them yet so I linked to the AO3s for those. I really need to get better and finding authors on Tumblr but I like reading on AO3 so much better that I just tend to read there when I can.) I also really enjoyed The Stowaway but it's unfinished and hasn't updated in almost a year and the author shared that people had not been kind to her so she may not come back to it, so go in knowing that you may not see the story end. The ride, however, is worth it IMO.

I hope you enjoy your adventures through the galaxy with the very shiniest bounty hunter! Love you!!!

[marthawrites]

Late again, BUT here's my October reads! General spoiler free thoughts below the cut ♥

From Below: Diving into this book I really wasn't sure what to expect aside from the obvious! The premise was pretty simple: a diving team goes under to examine a shipwreck that mysteriously happened in the 1920s. So, lots of dark, creepy, unsettling vibes in the deep dark ocean. AHHH I hate deep dark water so when I saw this book I knew I had to check it out. Overall this was a very tense, suspenseful, and claustrophobic read. For me, personally, the pacing felt a little weird. But it was an enjoyable story nonetheless with tons of creepyness going on. I think it would make a really interesting movie!!

Diavola: This was a "haunted house" style book that I was really interested in checking out! Honestly one of my favorite horror tropes is "the house is sick and so are we" (thanks AHS murder house!!). This story definitely had ghosts and psychological horror vibes and it was overall a spooky, entertaining, and weird read. The family in it was borderline insufferable though LOL and I think that was the whole point!! The ghost dilemma was nearly (if not totally) overshadowed by how horrible the family was! Which, again, I think was the point - the author did a fantastic job writing believable shitty characters (and I say this with respect)!

Salt and Broom: This was a witchy retelling of Jane Eyre. It fit perfectly into the October vibe and the writing was a refreshing change for me - a very sweet, secretive, somewhat dark, clean read. A lot of books I read are intended for a mature audience, and this was a nice change of pace. I would 100% feel good recommending this to a pre-teen to check out! It had a happy ending too and I am always a sucker for a happy ending!

A Friend In the Dark: Oh man this one was crazy!! It goes to show how you can never be too careful around people you meet online - ahhh! Very wild. If you enjoy face paced thrillers I definitely recommend checking this out!

Black River Orchard: Okay this was by far my favorite read of the month. I really don't want to give too much away because it's GOOD and when the things start adding up it's a big "OOOOH!!". Overall this is, imo, an incredibly well done, original, take on vampires. There's lots of different characters in this book, and they all have POV chapters, so at first it seems (to me anyway) overwhelming to keep track of everyone. Speaking of the characters, I absolutely loved how the author wrote all of them. They all had their own distinct voice and it was soso well done. HIGHLY recommend looking at this book!

The Haunting of Ashburn House: My last spooky read for the month! Haunted house stories are always fun for me, and this one didn't disappoint. Overall an entertaining read that also had a cast of well written characters

Shadow and Storms: The final book in the "Blood and Steel series"! This whole series was a nice break between the horror, thrillers, and weird books I've been reading. The ending did feel a little rushed, all the big build up to the big bad guy villain and war, for it all to be over relatively quickly. But, I'm not totally complaining. It DID end with a happily ever after and I'm always a fan of those

Bonded by Thorns: A "beauty and the beast" retelling. WHEW defs not kid appropriate though! This was very "spicy" while also staying relatively true to the original story. A great read if you want to check out of real life for a bit!

Never Lie: My first Fredia McFadden book! I now understand why people call her books "popcorn thrillers". It seems like people either love her stuff or hate it. I enjoyed this one for sure! Very twisty, fast paced, and quick! I'm glad I started with this one because I feel like it's one of her more popular ones. I will be checking out more of her stuff!

This was the most books I've ever read in a single month - wowowow!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey steph! hope your having a good day!

I was wondering if you had any "first dates" type of fics, because that's the current mood (woo yeah projection)

Hi Nonny!

AHHH, You know, I really needed to make a "Dating" list, so here we are! This one has fics specifically where they Date Each Other, and not NECESSARILY a first date, but definitely think you'll enjoy these anyway!

AND to make it a bigger list, I've added fics that came up with "date" or "dating" as a search result on my MFL list :)

As usual friends, feel free to add your fic or a fic you know! <3

FIRST DATES / DATING EACH OTHER

See also:

Date on a Dare

Victor Trevor / Sherlock and Other People

Sherlock and OMC's

Jealous Sherlock Because John Dates a Man

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w., 1 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn't ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn't bother him to propose to John even though they're not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious. 

Last Christmas by Mazarin221b (T, 3,911 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss) – That Earth-shaking revelation, then, leads to a problem, and one that Sherlock realizes should be solved quickly, before John’s dates turn into girlfriends or boyfriends, because sometimes girlfriends or boyfriends can turn into wives or husbands while your back is turned. Every time John hums happily at the mirror as he shaves, splashes on a little gift cologne Mrs. Hudson bought him for Christmas, Sherlock is drawn back to that night by the fire, and the way John’s touch had made the world stand still.

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Correspondence by Cleo2010 (T, 8,031 w., 5 Ch. || Letters, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Dating) – Sherlock’s been spirited away on a case for Mycroft. Part of the deal was that he and John could communicate via letter until the case was completed. Maybe the cliche is true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Or perhaps something is growing on the feet in the fridge. Read their letters month by month.

Six Dates by avawtsn (E, 7,421 w., 2 Ch. || 5+1, First Time / Kiss, Post S4-Compliant, POV John) – A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt “is this a date?” Hint: it is.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn't Know He's Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine's Day Ever by unicornpoe (T, 9,832 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He's also pretty sure that John doesn't know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine's Day.

Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w., 4 Ch. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 23,031 w., 64 Ch. || Post-TRF, Online Dating, Pining, Epistolary, Cybersex, Long Distance Romance) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.) Part 1 of Dear John

Don't Leave Anything Out by lookupkate (E, 27,422 w., 24 Ch. || Letters / Epistolary, Misunderstandings, Angst, Happy Ending, Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock in Love, Pining Sherlock) – The first letter John writes home from Afghanistan is meant to go to a woman he went on only one date with. How it ends up in Sherlock's hands is completely innocent. What happens next is not. What do you do when you find out the person you're in love with has been lying about something as monumental as who they are? What do you do when you're the one who lied?How on earth do you put the pieces back together?

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w., 4 Ch. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she's also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she's placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

MARKED FOR LATER

A proposal in blood by Some_weird_queer_writer (T, 756 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Injury, Ambulance, Established Relationship, Date Night, Love Confession) – John and Sherlock go out for a date night when they're attacked and John is injured. Still, they make a promise.

Date Night by Calais_Reno (T, 1,477 w., 1 Ch. || Coming Out, Drunken Love Confessions, Drunk John, Fluff) – On a date, John and Sherlock out themselves to Lestrade. It's all fine. Part 1 of the Just Johnlock series

The Importance of February 14th by cypress_tree (T, 3,156 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Valentine’s Day) – Sherlock was born on Valentine's Day. John doesn't know this and invites him out on a date. Sherlock assumes it's a birthday celebration and believes so right up until the moment John kisses him.

Third Date by Calais_Reno (T, 4,111 w., 1 Ch. || Dating, Awkward Romance, Relationship Advice, Jealousy, Friends to Lovers, POV Lestrade) – John Watson dates a lot of women, but never gets beyond the Third Date. Sherlock solves it. Part 3 of the Just Johnlock series

It's all Fun and Games Until Someone Falls in Love by Malakia (T, 5,618 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Fluff, Bullying, BAMF John, Online Dating) – Anderson and Sally while drunk sign Sherlock up for some gay dating event or website as a laugh, hoping to embarrass the detective. The next time they see Sherlock, he is on a date with his new boyfriend John who he met at the event/ through the site.

Come and Find Me by Salambo06 (M, 9,737 w., 3 Ch. || Different First Meeting, Fluff, First Kiss, Twitter, Awkwardness, First Date, Love at First Sight, Inexperienced Sherlock, Frottage) – Two days ago, Sherlock found himself being kissed by a man only known as John during a Pride event, before running away. But Sherlock soon realises that the said John intends to find him again, even it means asking the help of the entire Internet.

Not this year by Imjohnlocked87 (E, 16,293 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting ||  Friends to Lovers, Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Smut, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food Sex, Wall Sex, Angst with Happy Ending) – One month after leaving the rehabilitation centre, when Donovan asks Sherlock if he will be alone on Valentine's Day this year too, he replies he will be spending it with someone special.The only problem is that this someone doesn't exist.Because who would want to have Valentine's date with Sherlock Holmes? 

The Aftermath is Secondary by meet_me_in_samarra (E, 19,641 w., 5 Ch. || Punk AU || Pining John, Seductive Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Horny Idiots, Public Sex, Toilet Sex, Hand Jobs, Tongue Kink, Insecure Sherlock, BAMF John, Insecure John) – Will Doctor Holmes and Doctor Watson really go on the agreed date in the infamous punkrock club "The Misfit"? Will their sexual tension finally be resolved? Is it really going to be dangerous? And will Sherlock really wear the promised fishnet top? (Oh God, yessss!) Part 2 of the Wretched and Divine series

Cinema by thelookyouredoingthelookagain (E, 22,411 w., 12 Ch. || Different First Meeting, Nightmares, Flirting, Cinema, John’s Cane, John’s Blog, Therapy, First Date) – John's nightmares drive him across the street to the all night cinema where the tall, dark projectionist provides in an interesting distraction.

Gravity is missing from everything by meet_me_in_samarra (E, 23,557 w., 6 Ch. || Punk AU || Overdose, Suicide Attempt, Developing Relationship, Slutty Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, Public Sex, Food Sex, Porn With Feelings, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock Whump, Caring / Protective John, Insecure Sherlock, Anal Sex, Drug Use) – People bumped into him, cussing and throwing death glares. Blocking their way, Sherlock stood frozen in a throng of commuters. “Are you high?” one shouted into his vacant face. Funnily enough he actually was not. This was all John´s fault. Inflicting a date on him. To have dinner. Part 3 of the Here I Am series

Whenever it's right (AKA First Date) by Aliea (M, 26,493 w., 15/? Ch. || WiP || London Underground, Explosions, Doctor John, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Hospitals, Mind Palace John, Coma, Past Drug Use, Big Brother Mycroft) – Meeting the person you have been searching for all your life, never knowing that you have been searching until its over and you have them before you. What happens when you fall in love at first sight then everything goes to hell? Do you stay or go, take the risk or run for the hills. John has has never ran from anything, so he wasnt going to run from the man that changed his life in less than five seconds.

A Wizarding Barista's Field Guide to Seducing a Muggle by paradigmfinch (T, 29,344 w., 9 Ch. || Harry Potter Coffee Shop AU || Fluff, Wizard John, Muggle Sherlock, Bisexual John, Flirting, First Dates, Harry Watson, Secret Identity) – To help pay for Healing tuition, John Watson gets a job at a coffee shop in Muggle London, where he soon sets his sights on a particularly gorgeous customer. John's seen plenty of Muggle films. How different can it really be to woo a Muggle?

If Baker Street Could Talk by a_different_equation (E, 31,723 w., 12 Ch. || Neighbours AU || Blind Date, Domestics Life, Widower John, Pianist Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn, PTSD, Mental Health Issues, Alternate First Meeting) – There is a very thin wall between 221b and 221c. As if by fate, it has separated two sitting rooms that now almost morph back into one. One sitting room belongs to Sherlock Holmes (43), a pianist; and the other one to Dr John H. Watson (45), whatever he might be after everything. Theoretically, John's a war hero, an ex-surgeon, a widower, and he’s telling everyone that he develops a game which might take a lifetime. There is a wall between them, but they cannot be separated.

Four Shots Series by Opy3332 (T, 34,736 w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Coffee Shop AU || MI6, Barista John, Developing Relationship, First Dates) – Series of stories revolving around John and Sherlock meeting under different circumstances--when John takes a job as a barista at SIS headquarters and meets Sherlock there.

Starting Over by Calais_Reno (M, 49,260 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || POV Alternating, Dev. Rel., Awkward Romance, Misunderstandings, Angst with Happy Ending) – A disappointing blind date set up by well-meaning friends brings together John Watson, invalided army doctor, and Sherlock Holmes, asocial, "married to my work" consulting detective. Two idiots falling in love.

To Poisons and Their Antidotes by thegirlinthedeathfrisbee (M, 66,648 w., 12 Ch. || Unilock AU || Deductions, Coffee, Dinners, Dates, Drug Use, UST / RST, Romance, Humour, One-Liners, Drama, Angst, ASiP, Oral/Anal, Hand Jobs) – Every poison has their antidote. Sherlock will meet the antidote to his poison in the most unlikely of ways. 

Follow Me Down by 221BeStillMyHeart (E, 67,725 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meetings / Professions AU || Captain John, Daddy Kink, Suave John, Slow Burn, Pining, First Dates, Gay Sherlock, Jealous John, Case Fic, BAMF John, Caring John, Insecure Sherlock, Protective John, Protective Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Masturbation, Gentle John, Flirting Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes is a 23 year old genius working as a forensic analyst at Bart's hospital. John Watson is a 38 year old army captain just back from war, working as the lead surgeon in the trauma ward. A chance meeting brings them together, and no one is ever the same.

What have you done? by Tildathings (M, 78,184 w., 20 Ch. || Internalized Homophobia, John’s Family, Coming Out, Sherock/OMC, Hugging, Suicide, John Deduce’s, Nightmares, Love Confession, First Date, Bed Sharing, Psychiatry) – John have been invited by Sherlock on a pub night?! Sherlock said to him at Monday that Greg and Mike wanted him to come with them on a pub night. Sherlock is afraid that he would do something wrong socially left alone, so could John come with him? When John arrives at the pub Two Broken Hearts he sees Sherlock talking to a man.