#hmn. many such thoughts.

[willosword]

oh damn i already have a surprising amount of things to say about this page alone

[socksandbuttons]

okay but seriously killcode meeting earth, the PERSONIFIED thing that creator put into moon and now is a person. AND HAS THE EXPERIENCE OF CREATORS ACTUAL BULLSHIT.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

[lostsyren]

ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ the vip life 🍸🌺🍹 ・。.・✭・.

{word count: 2.1k}

{summary: a look into rafe and sofia’s thoughts at the party in season 3 episode 7 & a bit of context to their relationship}

{part 2: here}

ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ “So this is the VIP life huh?” Sofia smiled over the red lip of her solo cup. She watched with sparkling eyes as Rafe smirked down at her, glancing around, before he answered.

“Hmn Yeah.”

Sofia had a lot of kooks who’d frequented the bar to try their lines on her, but they never took it further than that, always returning to their golf games, never to look her way again. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt. Moving to the Outer Banks a couple months ago from Mexico had been hard…lonely. She’d only made one friend so far. So when this good looking guy, eyes the colour of the ocean, smile bright and winning, had approached her for the second time, she was taken aback… ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Sofia right?” He’d said.

She was ducked under the bar, placing new stock away into shelves. Hearing her name, she jumped up with a sigh, quickly plastering on a smile.

“That’s me,” she chirped, putting on her customer service voice, “can I help you with anything?”

Rafe just laughed softly, eyes roaming her face, trailing down to her body. She prickled with confusion.

“You don’t have to speak like that with me, I thought we were chill.”

He was talking about their conversation earlier. As he asked for a glass of whiskey the two exchanged a couple words. He asked her for her name. She told him it, and then he said ‘thank you for the drink’. But that was it.

Now as the sun sank in the sky, the clouds tinged with orange and pink, he’d approached her again, whilst she unloaded stock behind the bar.

“Oh, hi I didn’t know it was you.” Her shift was ending soon and she was drained. She probably looked it too.

“My name is Rafe by the way.”

“Okay….” She said, quirking her eyebrow in confusion.

What was this? Despite being on the island for less than 4 months, she was aware of the discourse between the ‘kooks’ and ‘pogues’. The people who swarmed the country club were ‘Kooks’, which meant the people serving them were ‘Pogues’. So what was this Kook boy doing talking with her just as the bar was about to close?

Rafe chuckled tensely, hand palming the back of his neck.

Was he nervous?

“Is everything ok?” Sofia asked, mouth furrowing into a concerned frown.

“Yeah no– I’m good. I just wanted to say I’m having a party on Saturday. You should come.”

Oh.

“Huh?” She said, struggling to comprehend.

“Yeah, just give me your number so I can text you the address.”

And that’s how she ended up in Tannyhill, with Rafe Cameron’s arm slung around her shoulder.

The size of the house alarmed her, the huge white edifice looming over the landscape as she pulled up to his driveway, seemingly getting bigger as she approached it.

“You wanna see some more?” Rafe said, voice low. Tone suggestive.

Sofia’s stomach flipped, “yeah I’m down.”

“Great news, that’s great news, I’ll give you the grand tour,” he teased, pulling her into his body with his arm. Sofia laughed melodically, letting him lead her inside, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The two slotted perfectly against each other, Sofia relishing the way he found every opportunity to touch her. She knew he probably only wanted to sleep with her. But she didn’t care– she also wanted the same. He was hot. Enthralling. Undeniable. For a moment she could pretend like she was one of the girls at the country club– not just its bartender.

They were about to enter, before she felt Rafe’s hand slide down her back. She turned to look up at him.

“Just give me like five minutes. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

She nodded, noticing how his hand seemed to linger on her lower back.

“Ok,” she smiled, exiting the balcony.

Sofia roamed the house, not really knowing much of the people there. She offered a couple of smiles, but not many people reciprocated them. She followed Rafe’s instructions and headed upstairs. The girls all seemed to throw her chary, frigid looks, casting whispers to their friends as she walked past. Sofia felt her skin turn red, feeling the scrutiny pierce her. She pushed the sensation away, hoping that Rafe would be quick.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Barry’s words left a stirring disquiet in his stomach.

The hint that he needed to remove Ward off the battlefield, as Barry had put it, swirling about in his mind.

Rafe downed his drink, letting the crystal glass clatter onto the table as he got up in a huff.

“Have fun Country Club,” Barry jeered, as he left the balcony, mood soured. He headed upstairs to Sofia. His nerves were frayed and Barry hadn’t helped, now his mind migrating elsewhere. Somewhere dark.

Despite his playboy persona, his exaggerated swagger and intense ostentation, Rafe hadn’t been like this in years. After what had happened to the Sheriff, he put the hedonism of house parties and the company of girls behind him, too consumed by a festering guilt.

But he was past that now. He could enjoy himself again.

He reached the top of the stairs. This floor was empty, the noise of the party filtering up from downstairs. He spotted her. She was standing by the table with all the framed photographs of the Cameron family, of them as kids, of them at Midsummers. He watched as she ran a finger through the dust coated picture frames, picking one of them up with a small smile. Rafe roiled with anticipation.

He supposed that was why he asked Sofia to come. He could’ve had any kook girl of his choosing, but he was afraid. He knew word got around in the country club circles– the pressure would be too much. Besides, most of them were mean. Vapid. Obsessive.

Sofia seemed sweet. He could tell she hadn’t been in the Outer Banks long since she didn’t know who he was. He liked that. There wasn’t any expectation for him to fulfil. Or for him to disappoint. By being Rafe Cameron…Whatever that meant.

He inhaled a short, sharp breath and approached her, slipping a hand around her waist from behind, “hey.”

Sofia jumped up slightly, letting out a little gasp, “oh my god you scared me,” she laughed spinning around to face him.

“Oh yeah? What are you doing snooping about my house then, Miss Sofia?” He teased, slotting his other hand around her waist too.

“Just looking at the pictures. You were cute as a kid.” Her smile was big and her eyes were shiny, the irises almost lined with gold. They reminded him of how the Cross of Santo Domingo burned in the fire. Golden and bright.

Fuck she was gorgeous– Rafe thought– especially for a Pogue.

“And what about now?” He probed.

He could see her eyes dilate, “still cute.”

Rafe felt his heartbeat waver.

“I’ll show you to my room.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Sofia walked into the vast space, the four post bed sprawling and plush, damask drapes lining each window, the chandelier casting light refractions across the creamy walls as the sunset spilled in through the glass.

“Woah.” Was the only thing she could say.

Rafe laughed softly behind her, shutting the door as he entered.

“Let me take that from you.” He said as he neared her, swiping the red solo cup out of her hand and placing it on the bedside table. She obliged, eyes tailing him, an amalgam of excitement and anxiety brimming in her.

The sun was setting, the sky getting dusky with the heady glow of late summer, the room awash in the colours of twilight. Sofia could see Rafe’s eyes shine darkly as he looked down at her.

“How did you find the party then?” He asked.

She smiled once again, finding it hard not to, “I had fun. Thanks for the invite.”

“That’s good– I’m glad. Uh you wanna sit down?”

Sofia nodded, letting him lead her to the side of the bed. Rafe seemed different now. The sharp confidence from before was replaced with a care and softness that surprised her.

The two were silent for a while, the music from the party sounding faint and far away and the soft shadows of the room felt warm and fuzzy. Rafe placed a gentle hand on her knee, contrasting the quick and easy ways he’d touched her throughout the day. This was deliberate.

“Can I…” he started.

Sofia nodded, “please do,” her voice close to a whisper.

His fingers inched up her thigh, his touch light like gossamer, trailing up to the strands tying her bikini cover up. He tugged them lazily, letting the fabric fall. Sofia’s chest rose and fell as she tried to level her breathing, watching Rafe with lidded eyes. His gaze roamed her body hungrily, the pupils growing darker.

His hands then moved to the side of her face, tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ear. Rafe inched closer towards her, finally bridging the gap with a slow kiss, Sofia feeling her skin prickle in expectation.

Her hand shot to his face, cupping his cheek as he deepened the kiss, whilst pulling down the fabric of her dress, until she was left in nothing but her red bikini.

Rafe’s face lit up, the slow and deliberate movements giving way to a quick and fervid desperation as he swiped his polo shirt off in one swift manoeuvre, capturing Sofia in his arms and placing her head on the pillow as he caged her body with his.

She gasped at the sudden change in pace, looking up at him with a doe eyed expression.

“Sorry,” he murmured, confusing her countenance for fear.

“Don’t apologise, just come here,” she said with a dopey smile, pulling him into a kiss, as she hooked her arms around his neck.

“As you wish, Miss Sofia,” he teased, smiling against her lips at the nickname he’d given her.

His body was flush against hers, the two of them getting lost in a heady bubble of ecstasy as the party continued on downstairs.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The sun had set completely, the sky dark and the stars out. Rafe switched on a lamp, lying back in bed with his arms behind his head. Sofia was in the shower, the faint sound of water running the only thing he could hear in the room.

Everyone had left, the music had stopped. It was just them in the house. But despite how much fun he’d had with her, he couldn’t stop thinking about the inkling in his head– Ward needed to be gone.

The door to the en-suite creaked open, Sofia entering the room wrapped in a towel, rivulets of water running down her skin. She gave a smile, which Rafe reciprocated, sitting up on his elbow. He pushed away the dark thoughts that had wormed into his brain and honed on to her. She walked over to her discarded bikini and cover, picking the flimsy material up.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower.” She said sweetly.

“No problem.” Rafe replied.

“I guess I’ll be heading home then.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “what?”

“Yeah, I’ll get out of your way.”

Rafe got up out of bed, pulling on his boxers, “it’s late. You’ve had a couple of drinks. Just stay the night.” He walked past her towards his wardrobe, pulling out a clean shirt and handing it to her. “Here you can wear this.”

Sofia eyed the shirt. Then flicked her gaze up to him.

“You sure?”

He laughed softly, slightly puzzled, “yeah of course.”

Sofia accepted the shirt, giving him a funny look.

“I’ll look away. You get changed.” He said, walking back to the bed as she slipped it on.

She climbed in bed not soon after, lying down with a sigh.

“You’re not like how I thought you’d be.” She mused, glancing over to him quietly.

Rafe’s breath hitched, “is that a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Good. Definitely good.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafe had fallen asleep. His back was turned to her, his soft breaths ebbing and flowing in the silence. She examined the constellation of freckles on his shoulders, scared to trace her finger through them in case he woke up. She turned around, lying face up to the ceiling.

Rafe Cameron confounded her. Even in sex, he’d flit from gentle to rough. From soft to callous. His fingers would grip her skin before dissolving into the most tender of touches. She’d feel his teeth clash against her own, before he slipped into a mellow pace, trailing his lips across hers like a feather. And now– wasn’t this a hookup? That’s the impression she got. So why was he being so….kind?

She was exhausted; Rafe really had tired her out. She fell into dreams soon after, the sumptuous bed sheets and silken pillows making it easy, the comforting presence of Rafe sleeping beside her making it even easier.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[a-cyclepath]

⚠️||MDNI, warnings, public/voyeruism drabbles, smut, smut bullet points, ramblings || ⚠️

Satoru Gojo having a voyerusim kink just because he knows he can get away with it because he's the strongest

Satoru Gojo having no problem blatantly touching and groping at you in crowded public areas because he knows if anyone takes up a problem with it he can just kick their ass

Satoru Gojo grinding himself back against you while you two are out shopping together and you're looking at a rack or shelf of something. "Hmn? Did you find something you want?" He asks, hips grinding into your rear as he leans over your shoulder, you can

Satoru Gojo pulling over the car on the side of a busy road to have you ride him because you wore something particularily tight around your lowerhalf today and he jusst has to have you there, and he always gets what you want

"Quiet, someone might here you~" Satoru Gojo being playful while he shamelessly jets his hips upwards to thrust his cock in and out of you after dragging you to the bathroom at the back of the store or mall you two were walking in

Satoru Gojo purposefully being rough with you to make you noisy so everyone can hear how fucked stupid you are from his cock in public

Satoru Gojo sneaking off to the side with you at a house party to have you get on your knees and blow him in the bathroom or empty kitchen, gripping your hair and using your drooling mouth like a fleshlight while grinning to himself at the thought of someone catching you two with his cock down your throat

Satoru Gojo descretely slipping himself into you while standing behind you on a subway train if there isn't too many people riding if you wore a skirt or short shorts and cockwarming you until you're three stops away from where you two get off (While he gets off to how the bumps and moving force of the train causing him to "accidentally" thrust into you)

Satoru Gojo smiling as whatever public place he pulled you aside to have fun in, you'll be limping and leaning on his side as you either go back to the car to head home or walk around continuing your day.

[tryfonpeixes]

Jimmy loved play fighting with Joel.

It was comfortable, so you can't blame him. Why it's comfortable is because they'd done this so many times before. Jimmy was used to this, and knew how to do it well. He hated change, like a bird.

Joel loves play fighting with Jimmy. He loved bothering Jimmy in any way possible and making Jimmy groan whenever it happens. He loves wrestling Jimmy for whatever he's got in his hands and then giving it back to him immediately after taking it, if it gets Jimmy to hang out with him.

Recently, though, Joel has been feeling a bit soft. It isn't your average run of the mill growing soft for someone' trope. Nah, Joel had gone soft for Jimmy years ago. So, he devised a little plan to bother Jimmy with this softness as much as possible.

In all honesty, he didn't have to devise a plan for it to work on Jimmy (as much as Joel loves him, he's easy). He did anyways, likes putting the thought in.

So, one night in the mansion, Joel antagonized Jimmy again. They were both on the bed, and Joel was trying to pull something (Joel didn't actually know what it was) out of Jimmy's hands.

Jimmy pulls his hands up higher than Joel can reach, while Joel clambers into his lap to reach further for it. They're both batting at each other like a cat fight, pushing each other by their faces and biting.

Just as Joel grabs the object- leaning onto Jimmy in his lap- they both fall. Jimmy falls backwards onto the bed, and Joel lands on top of him. It takes Jimmy by surprise (you can tell cause he squeaks), so Joel successfully pulls the object away from him.

Jimmy groans and tries to push Joel off of him, to no avail. Then… Joel sorta.. goes slack on him. He melts onto Jimmy's chest all of a sudden.

Jimmy blinks in confusion.

"Wait- hold on a second.. Joel."

Joel hums out a response like a purr. "Hmn?"

"What're you doing?"

Joel adjusts to look at him, his chin resting on Jimmy's chest.

"Cuddling."

Jimmy narrows his eyes, huffs.

"...cuddling."

"Yeah. S'nice innit?"

"it's--" Jimmy cuts himself off, feeling his face heat up. Rosy red spreads across his face like blush brushes dancing on his skin. His ears turn a similar shade. His eyelashes flutter.

Joel changed all of a sudden. He went all soft and cuddly on Jimmy instead of trying to be an asshole on purpose.

It's odd. He does that sometimes- getting all mushy on him. Jimmy is pretty sure he's the only person who's seen Joel like that. Maybe Grian has- he doubts it though.

"It is.. nice."

Joel raises an eyebrow. "You good there, babe?"

Jimmy makes a noise in his throat, sounding almost strangled as he says, "i... you..."

He lets his head fall back onto the pillows. His arm wraps around Joel, with a snort. "You're a menace."

He can practically hear Joel's grin. His stupid handsome smile and his odd sharp teeth. He can feel that stupid look in his eyes. The one that Joel uses when he's making fun of Jimmy. It feels more like.. he was being admired right now, at the same time.

"That's me!" Joel sing-songs. "But- you love me, don't ya, Jim?"

Jimmy rolls his eyes. not that Joel can see it, but he did it anyway.

"You just rolled your eyes, didn't you?"

Oops! Jimmy snickers.

"I love you too, Joel."

Joel hums. He buries his face back into Jimmy's chest, muttering something Jimmy doesn't quite catch. He hears something about Jimmy being like a pillow. He assumes Joel was calling his boobs a nice pillow. Again.

Maybe change isn't so bad?

(Massive credit to @zedif-y for the dialogue section and also inspiration. Writers block? Not my friend anymore :3)

[changedmyminditsnicehere]

I was honestly so overwhelmed by the response to my last fic post. The Sandman fandom has been so welcoming, I wanted to write something again - I've never been this inspired! This is still a little rough I fear, but I hope however it finds enjoys it!

AO3 link here for people who prefer to read it there!

---

When Dream had slammed his way into the bathroom at minute 46 - approximately - of Hob's shower, and minute negative 14 since Dream was supposed to have left - definitely - he had done so with the one clear and cogent goal in mind. What that goal had been, he was slowly being forced to admit, he had no idea.

"Morpheus? That you? It better be you mate, I am not dealing with a home invasion in the scud." Hob sounded impressively cheery for someone considering facing criminals in the nude. Morpheus was trying not to consider not to consider what it would be like to be tackled by a naked Hob. Morpheus was, despite the incredibly see-through shower curtain, trying not to consider what Hob looked like naked.

One could argue that, as he was barging in on his flatmate's post-rugby shower, he should have expected said flatmate to be somewhat naked. It wouldn’t even be the first time Hob had been somewhat naked in front of Morpheus. They had shared accommodation, university and onwards, for five years now and Hob was hardly shy. He had a habit of stripping on his way to the shower after particularly enthusiastic rugby matches. Morpheus would perish before being seen, as Hob was apparently so willing to be, dripping with sweat, flushed with exertion and panting heavily as he maniacally pulled his muddy clothes off. The first time this vision graced him, Morpheus had thought he might perish anyway. Morpheus had hoped that by regular exposure to this post-match divestment, he might have built up a tolerance that would allow him this brief escapade. A foolish hope it seemed.

“Morpheus?” "Mn." Hob let out a whistling breath. "Good good. I'm not up for naked tackling today." "...hmn" "You okay out there?" "I am just getting my pomade." "God yeah sorry, dinner with your sister right? Didn't mean to take so long, sorry mate. I'll be right out." There were many things Morpheus needed right now, including a cold shower and maybe a furious wank. He did not need the image of Hob stepping out of the shower, droplets of water on his chest just asking for Morpheus to put his lips to Hob’s beautiful chest hair and lick them up. His sister was going to mock him mercilessly. The first time Morpheus had witnessed Hob’s approach to personal modesty post-rugby, she hadn’t even waited for him to sit down before laughing in his face and flagging a waiter down to request two glasses of their cheapest prosecco. They were, she had told him, going to celebrate her darling little brother finally catching on.

"It is okay. I will leave now." "No no, it's fine, we're all adults here." The shower curtain was already pulling back. Morpheus considered fleeing. He could move in with his sister, probably. She would let him sleep on her couch and only mock him slightly mercilessly while he planned his move to the remotest desert spit he could find.

And then there was Hob. All of Hob. In all his evenings waiting for and fearing the advent of Hob's Sweaty Striptease, Morpheus had never once dared to imagine what it would look like going in the other direction. If Hob were moving towards him, rather than up the stairs.

He might not be breathing. He wondered if passing out might be the least embarrassing way out of his current predicament. Probably not, unfortunately. Hob was… so much. Hair slicked back, broad chest, his chest hair swirled into patterns Morpheus tried to focus on, make sense of, so as not to let his gaze descend any further.

“Morpheus? You in there?” Morpheus looked up carefully. He was trying so hard not to glance down. Hob was looking at him, significantly more amusement in his eyes’ than Morpheus thought he might have for someone leching at his chest hair. “You okay? You’re looking a bit red, is the steam getting to you?” Hob seemed utterly unaware of his inner turmoil. He reached out, as if to measure his temperature with the back of his hand.

Morpheus could not explain why he did it, except to say that he did not think he could withstand Hob’s hand on his face while he stood there, naked. Why he thought grabbing Hob’s hand and simply holding it would be better than whatever mortification he would no doubt commit should Hob touch him, he did not know. But now they stood, hands clasped at chest height. “... I do not know why I did that.” Hob’s smile was changing. Gone was the cheerful blandness and in its place was not the censorious disapproval Morpheus feared, but something slower, warmer. Hob looked, Morpheus would almost say, pleased with himself.

“Don’t you? You seem to be concentrating pretty hard.” He grinned. “See something you like? Don’t like?” Morpheus frowned in denial before he could consider how incriminating it might be. “Oh, definitely like.” Hob sounded incredibly smug. “You know, when your sister suggested stepping it up a notch, I didn’t actually plan for full frontal nudity. That seems like a second date sort of event really.” “A … second date event?” “Unless, that’s not what this is?” Hob’s grin dimmed and Morpheus couldn’t let that happen. “Only, you seemed pretty interested but you never actually did anything, I kind of hoped that meant it might be more than just, just,” Hob rushed. “You would like a second date… with me?” Morpheus interrupted. “Well, I’d like a first date ideally, but if I can guarantee a second one off the bat, that would make me very happy. What about you? Would you be happy with that?” Hob’s hand was clasping Morpheus’ back now. “I would be… very happy with that.” “Oh, oh good. Thank god. I was worried I’d made myself look like a right knob and I would have to move out and fake my own death. How does tonight sound? Dinner? After you see your sister? Too soon? I can do whenever. God, I do sound like a knob don’t I?” “Lunch.” “Lunch? We can do lunch. When works for you, tomorrow? No, that’s a school day - you want to wait til next weekend? I can wait.” He did not sound like he could wait. “No, lunch today. Now. I will tell my sister I am indisposed.”

Hob’s laugh was beautiful.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

Shego: Dra-DraggAACHOO!! Whaf are you doing h-- nebermind. Gan, hmn, gan you gyed me schyome wadder??

Drakken: Sure thing Shego, one moment. *starts assembling a projector*

Shego: Whaff are you doin?

Drakken: Well since you're sick, I thought: "Why not keep her company? That way she's not alone and we can keep on planning our global take over!" *turns on the presentation*

Shego: Gan... Gan I gyed a glafs of wadder firschd?

Drakken: Yes, yes, I'll get you some after my presentation is over.

Shego: Hyow many slides?

Drakken: *rappidly clicks through his presentation * sixhundredandfourtytwo... Ahem, 'STEP 1. We dress up as clowns--.'

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - Free Day 3 - 22. Caretaker Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Explicit Summary: Zoissette has many needs right now, and Y'shtola will take care of all of them. Notes: WoL|Sette timeline. CW: Frank sexual discussion, sexual activity

Zoissette was tired, but the good kind of tired. The tired of muscles that had been worked. The tired that came from accomplishment, from success. The tired that came from stretching one's limits. The tired that came from heat pumping through the heart.

The tired that came from physical therapy.

She was well on the way to recovery. Not quite yet ready to fully leave her rooms, not quite fully ready to tend to herself fully. She could, of course, she could. She wanted to, even. But she needed to rest, frequently, and she needed to sleep quite a lot, and the Scions were eager to see after her.

After she had scared them so badly coming back barely alive from beyond the edge of everything, she felt it best to indulge them.

Besides, though she did not want to admit it, it was kind of nice being taken care of.

Y'shtola helped her back towards her bed, ready to support Zoissette should she need it, and she almost might have. A small warm smile played on her face, eyes lazy, feeling languid after the day's work. Her mind played from thought to thought, free like clouds drifting through the sky. Y'shtola carefully got her into her bed, and made sure she was settled in, water and books within reach.

"Is there ought else you might desire from me, before I take my leave?"

"Hmn. Not right now," said Zoissette lazily, already feeling foggy sleepiness starting to drift in to her thoughts. She looked Y'shtola up and down, admiring her form, settling almost a touch too long on her breasts, but finding her way up to her eyes.

Y'shtola just smiled back and raised an eyebrow.

Zoissette laid down, and rolled over. "Maybe you could wear a maid outfit for me," she said, dreamily, already well on her way to sleep.

Y'shtola's ears went back.

"Not one of the traditional ones of course, all dowdy and duty," continued an oblivious Zoissette, "but one of those fancy ones that they call the Isghardian style, which is of course ridiculous, our maids look the same as anyone else's and don't have such interesting bustiers..."

"I beg your pardon," said Y'shtola, sharply.

Zoissette was suddenly very awake. She blinked and turned to see an annoyed Y'shtola.

"Oh! Oh. Uhm. Ahm. Sorry! Sorry. I forgot myself."

Y'shtola closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in.

"No. Nevermind. Forget I said anything," said Zoissette hurriedly, turning over and burying her head under her blankets. "I - I was just - after everything - very tired. Sorry. Please. Thank you for everything. I - I am going to sleep now."

Zoissette curled up under the blankets, and made a pained noise.

Y'shtola grimaced, reaching a hand out, wanting to help, wanting to do something to ease her friend.

But she held back, and considered.

"I shall see you on the morrow, then," she said gently. "Good night, Sette."

"...good night, Shtola."

Satisfied for the time being, Y'shtola headed out the door, and slipped quietly into the evening.

It was good, then, that Zoissette went to sleep early and woke up late these days. It gave Y'shtola a little bit of time to work. Not much, but enough. Tataru was willing to help, and able to keep a secret. F'lhaminn's twinkling eyes above her smile showed she knew more than she had been told, but was also an able accomplice. And so it was, that the next day, that F'lhaminn made sure the general word had been put out that this was a day Zoissette was absolutely under no circumstances to be bothered, that she needed a true rest day to herself, and would survive a day without being mothered and smothered by well meaning friends.

F'lhaminn herself saw to Zoissette's breakfast, as was expected, and Zoissette was yet none the wiser. Y'shtola had to see to some last minute things, last minute adjustments, but she managed to make it to Zoissette's door just before morning passed into noon. Putting her hand on the latch, she leaned in to listen, and then knocked.

"Come in, please."

Y'shtola teased the door open a bit, looking in to see Zoissette in bed, a book in her hand, looking towards the door. She opened the door the rest of the way, and let herself in, being sure to latch the door behind her.

She felt a thrill of delight at the way Zoissette's eyes went wide, the way she slowly looked Y'shtola up and down, taking her all in. The way the tips of her ears began to turn red, and her cheeks began to blush. Zoissette grabbed the edge of her sheet, and pulled it up to her chin, as though she suddenly had to cover herself.

Y'shtola was dressed, head to toe, in a lascivious maid outfit. The bustier pressing up at her breasts, covering them and yet also putting them well on display, the white fabric that covered them standing out against the black that followed under the contour of the swell of her chest. Puffy shoulders that ended quickly, revealing bare arms that ended in little ribboned cuffs. A skirt that was ended halfway down the leg, with the appearance of an apron sewn onto its front. White opaque stockings that accentuated the exact shape of her legs, and little black shoes with a single strap to keep them on, and a smart button to keep the strap in place.

She relaxed her usual sense of self control, and let her tail have a mind of its own, swaying back and forth, high as it was, playing with the many ruffles the outfit had. Y'shtola smiled, and gave Zoissette a deep curtsy, making sure to emphasize the movement of her bust as she did so, before coming back up to stand, one hand on her outwardly cocked him, and smiling coquettishly all the while.

"How may I serve the master?" she crooned, strolling over to the side of the bed to climb up on it. Zoissette stared at her, hands still clutching the sheets to her chest.

"You do not have to do this for me," said Zoissette.

"And yet I have," said Y'shtola, throwing a leg over Zoissette's body, coming to straddle the woman, knees on either side of her hips. She curled a finger under Zoissette's chin, trying to look her in the eyes.

Zoissette averted her gaze, staring off to the side.

"You have well heeded my no, but will you accept my yes?" prodded Y'shtola.

"You don't have to do this for me," repeated Zoissette.

"Perhaps I wish to. Though if this is your no, I shall accept it; and we needs not explore this further if you do not wish. But if you think only of my prior rejection, then set that aside. My wishes must be taken into account if this is to work, and I must needs be free to change my mind, if not yours."

Zoissette's eyes fell, and she was quiet for a moment, before looking back to Y'shtola.

"I like this," she said, her voice small.

Y'shtola made a thoughtful hum noise deep in the back of her throat.

"Then tell me what you want."

Zoissette swallowed, and then tentatively reached up, and pulled Y'shtola into a kiss. Their lips met, warm and wet, and Zoissette pulled, really pulled Y'shtola in. Y'shtola marred appreciatively as fingers wound through her hair, firm against her scalp.

It would be so easy to melt against her, to melt into her.

But instead Y'shtola placed a gently on Zoissette's chest, and gently pushed herself away. Zoissette immediately broke contact, letting her hand fall away from where it had been.

"No. I find I must insist. Tell me, Sette. Tell me. What you. Want."

She sat back, leaning back a little on her hands. She watched as Zoissette's lips thinned. As her eyes began to water a bit. As she bit her lower lip nervously. As her eyes darted to and fro, searching Y'shtola.

For her part, she tried to be as an open book. She let her tail wander free, still curious, still swishing behind her. Ears remaining forward, open. She was serious, but not angry.

She wanted to know. She had to hear it from Zoissette's mouth, in Zoissette's way.

"I want you," said Zoissette at last.

Y'shtola gave her a look.

"How delightfully detailed."

"Please, let me finish," pleaded Zoissette. "I want... I want you, Shtola. I - I want you. You're - you are - you're beautiful to me. I love you, and I want you, and I feel ridiculous. It's not like I can't, cannot, talk about sex. I have had sex! We've had sex!"

Y'shtola reached forward, and took Zoissette's hands as words began spilling out of her.

"I have talked about sex before! With others, true, but still. I mean, I remember the first man I took to bed. He - he wanted oral, and we talked about it. I remembered anticipating that talk coming, I remember reading, I remember getting advice..."

Y'shtola bit her lip so as not to laugh at the mental image of a young and studious Zoissette Vauban looking at whatever passed for what would have had to have been Ishgardian books about sex.

"And after we were done, he seemed to like it at the time. Later on he complained, though. He said - the way I spoke about it. That I was like a whore. He meant it to insult. He was trying to hurt me, and that - that did hurt. The way he said it. Not what he said, though. I was... proud of that later, to be honest. I mean, he had compared me to a professional. You know? I was rather pleased with myself. Me! A professional at sex! And I have explored such things before! I've - another one. He, uhm, he wanted to tie me up. That took a lot of talking really, a lot of work. I... I think he liked the idea of me being helpless."

Y'shtola felt a tiny bit of a warm squirm at the idea of being helpless, a tiny distant twitch. She squashed it for now.

"We learned rope work together, and that was... enjoyable enough. And I remember one, someone wanted me to use a strap-on on his ass. I had to ask him a few times to be sure, and we had to be very careful, but he certainly enjoyed it very much. And I must confess, that experience did have a certain degree of delight to it."

Zoissette was babbling, and Y'shtola interrupted her, as gently as she could manage.

"I am fair certain that I do not wish to hear about your entire tumbling history, Sette."

"Sorry! Sorry. I'm, I am, I am rambling, it's just... I didn't want them. I liked them well enough, you know. I was being accommodating, it made them happy, I was curious, it was nice. It was nice! But."

Zoissette's hands clenched around Y'shtola's, squeezing tight.

"I want you. And I can feel that. It's overwhelming. I feel it, swelling up in my chest. Pressing against my ribs. Like I am going to burst."

She was breathing hard, and Y'shtola reached up behind Zoissette's head, and pulled closer once more, touching their foreheads together, looking up at her through her bangs, sharpening her aethersight until real colour, the true deep browns in Zoissette's eyes, could be seen.

"I am more than willing to explore such things with you, Sette. But you have to tell me what they are."

"I do not want to screw this up, Y'shtola."

"Our relationship is not so fragile as to not survive a few very frank discussions."

"I do not want to upset you."

Y'shtola sighed. She had thought about this, and had ready a response.

"And I find I must needs apologize for my earlier reaction," she said. "It 'twas because I am Miqo'te. My people, fair or not, have a reputation, and as such I have received far too many propositions from those who view me as just an object for their pleasure. Little more than a thing, free for the taking. You are not the cause for my poor reception, and should not have been the recipient of my ire."

"Uhm. Wait. I'm thinking. Uhm. What if... what if I wanted to treat you like that?"

Y'shtola smirked. "Then perhaps I would acquiesce to be owned by a kindly master for a short time, if you wish to speak of such further. 'Tis different between us, as you might well guess."

Zoissette frowned, thinking. "What if I wanted to be treated like an object?"

"That's the spirit," said Y'shtola encouragingly. "There is that curious mind which I so adore."

Zoissette shifted a bit under Y'shtola, then gently pushed against her. "Please move. I think... I think I want to lay down."

Y'shtoal acquiesced, moving off of her, letting Zoissette lower herself on the bed, until she was laying on her side, facing away from Y'shtola. After a moment's thought, Y'shtola followed her.

It was a little ridiculous that she was in bed wearing her shoes. And they were not very comfortable. She would need to speak to her haberdasher if this was to be a common thing. At least the stockings were rather comfortable. It was a little ridiculous to be thinking of this just now. She pressed up against Zoissette's back, and Zoissette leaned back into her.

"I do not even mind that you got upset," said Zoissette, her breathing now slow once more. "Not really. You have a temper, but it is rarely mean. You can be blunt. Honest. I love that about you." She twisted, shifting, trying to look over her shoulder back at Y'shtola. "I do not want that to change. But I think I might be scared. You are just... I do not know."

Y'shtola gave her space, as she rolled the rest of the way over.

"I like that you're blunt. That you are blunt. Frank. But you are not always blunt. Sometimes you tease, I can tell. When you are honest, you get that stern voice. When you tease, you are charming instead. Threatening to put me over your knee."

"Remember that, do we?"

"Calling Magnai little sun."

Y'shtola allowed herself a wicked smile at that.

"And most of the time it's fine. It is fine! But it was different when I proposed the maid outfit. You were mad, and I got scared, and... maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should be braver."

Zoissette sighed heavily. "I usually am ... better. You've been mad at me before. That has never scared me. You always have a reason."

"Usually."

"You usually have a reason."

Zoissette reached out a hand, to play her fingers through Y'shtola's hair, even as she looked elsewhere.

"I would like to propose an accord," said Y'shtola.

Zoissette looked up. Met her eyes.

"You must ask for that which you desire, and ever so long as you heed my no, I promise you need not fear my ire on the matter, as I shall not allow it to turn into a true anger. I shall return to you the same courtesy. But this also means you must needs allow me my yes. You may change your mind as well, if you wish, but you must allow me space to say my own yes. Do you understand?"

Zoissette nodded, slowly, and Y'shtola reached up a hand to touch her face.

"Very well. Then tell me, what do you want?"

Zoissette's eyes searched Y'shtola's face, and she reached up to touch Y'shtola's hand in turn. She was close enough that Y'shtola could feel her tense.

"Maybe I want to ruin you," she said. "Maybe I want to take that strap on and lift your tail and find your asshole and pound until you cry. Maybe I want to see what it looks like when Y'shtola Rhul loses her composure and breaks and loses herself in the moment."

Y'shtola drew in a sharp breath, surprised, and almost drew back.

Almost.

Instead she turned to that squirming that had lit up inside of her, and seized her own fears and feelings, and sunk herself into them, claws and teeth and wickedness.

Her nails bit lightly into Zoissette's cheek. Anger turned to heat. She turned it to her own ends. Was she not Y'shtola Rhul?

"Maybe I will let you," she returned. "Or maybe I want you to force me to, oh warrior. Embrace your darkness, and let my shadow swallow you."

Zoissette's breath hitched, and the tips of her ears turned red once more, and her breath became rapid. She pulled back, sitting up suddenly, and began waving her hands in the air.

Y'shtola, feeling the tiniest bit of a smug sense of self-satisfaction at seeing Zoissette's control slip in this tiniest fraction, propped herself up one one arm to watch with a wry smile.

"Too much," said Zoissette. "Oh Fury, that was too much. But..." she turned, and her words began to spill out in a flood. "Really? Are you sure you want to try? You are willing to try? Should we try? Oh, gods. I want that. I want you. I want your everything, Shtola. Right now I have never felt more that I want everything I want to explore everything oh my gods I want to bury my fingers deep in your quim I want to hear you scream I want. Oh, I want. What is happening right now? What am I even doing? What are we doing?"

"Shh shh shh shh shh," said Y'shtola, following up after Zoissette, wrapping her arms around her and pulling close to her, holding her, rocking with her gently while her lover edged towards having a meltdown. "Take a moment. Collect yourself. Breathe. Think."

Zoissette trembled in Y'shtola's arms.

"Think past maybe," said Y'shtola. "You are curious, you are exploring, you are asking questions, but I still wish to have your answer true. Forget yourself. Let go. Be with me, in this moment. Tell me, Zoissette. Right now, what, more than anything, do you truly want?"

Zoissette looked over at Y'shtola, shaking. And in the smallest voice, she said, "Hold me."

And Y'shtola held her. As she buried her head in Y'shtola's chest, and began to cry. Her body began to shake with the force of overwhelming emotion, and Y'shtola could feel it. Could feel how her core quaked, how her shoulders shuddered.

She felt hands clutching to her as though she were a lifeline.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Zoissette.

"It's alright," said Y'shtola, gently. "I've got you."

And that set off a torrent anew. Zoissette's face scrunched, jaw tight, tried to get ahold of herself. Curling tighter. Holding tighter.

Several long minutes passed in the room, just like that. Y'shtola just watched over Zoissette. Held her. Just held her, as she processed whatever this was. Grief? Fear? Y'shtola did not know.

She just knew it was real, and that right now, there was nothing more she wanted than to be here, to help Zoissette through it.

A perverse thought passed her mind. That she may have been privileged to be here for this. To be trusted so, despite, well.

Despite being a blunt and honest and sharp-tongued kind of woman.

But Zoissette saw her as a safe haven, and she knew, in that moment, she would rather die than ever betray that.

Y'shtola swallowed, thickly. Matters for later. After the storm had passed.

And pass it did. Zoissette's tears slowed, and stopped. She got her breathing under control, first in big gasps, then in shallows, then gradually, calm, slow breaths. Her shaking became trembles became a stillness.

"Remind me," she said, her voice quiet, resting against Y'shtola.

"Sette?" asked Y'shtola, gently.

"I am tired of being tired of being this. I am exhausted. Kiss me. Feel me. Touch me. Eat me. Remind me that I'm alive. Remind me that... I am wanted."

She sniffed. "I want you to take care of me." She rubbed her face. "Fury, I'm snotty and gross."

Fortunately, Y'shtola had made sure the maid outfit had come with some accoutrements. Zoissette, after all, did still need a proper caretaker to check on her throughout the day. She reached into a pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, and handed it to Zoissette, who took it gratefully and wiped her face down before blowing her nose.

"Sorry."

"And for what are you apologizing? For having feelings? Needs? The high crime of being human, perhaps?"

Zoissette snorted a laugh, not a derisive thing, just a noise she could not help. She further made a most unladylike noise, cleared her nose the rest of the way, and then gave a warmer, clearer laugh.

Y'shtola smiled. It was a little gross.

And that was surprisingly okay.

"Feeling better?"

Zoissette nodded, setting the handkerchief aside.

"Then lay down," said Y'shtola, sitting on the side of the bed to take off her shoes. She heard Zoissette shuffle in the bed behind her.

She considered her approach, unbuckling her shoes and setting them aside neatly, one by one. She stood up, and looked over her shoulder, to see Zoissette laying down. And to see that she had Zoissette's full attention. The woman was quiet, now. The storm had well and truly passed, and she was just... attentive. Y'shtola swished her tail, and was gratified to see Zoissette's focus and attention shift. She slowly reached down, under her skirt, and hooked her thumbs into her smalls, and slowly, swaying her hips, pulled them off.

She looked again. The mood of the room had shifted. She certainly had Zoissette's full, complete, and judging from the glassiness of her eyes, lusty attention. She turned, and winked, pressing her smalls into Zoissette's hand.

"Hold these for me, master," she said, placing emphasis on the last word. And she laughed at the choking noise Zoissette made.

This was silly. She -was- silly. And perhaps silliness is what was needed, in the wake of what had come before.

"I think I shall enjoy continuing our conversation," she purred, as she put one knee on the bed, and leaned over far enough to kiss Zoissette. A soft, gentle, teasing thing that she slowly leaned into, just enough to really get the feel of Zoissette's lips, before pulling back. She pulled the blanket back, and began to reach for Zoissette's smalls.

"No," said Zoissette. "Let me."

Y'shtola nodded, and sat back, and watched. Zoissette looked down at herself, and reached down, and arched her back to lift her butt as she shimmied her smalls down her legs. Y'shtola appreciated the scene on view. Zoissette was still in recovery, technically. She still had some trouble getting around. She was having a bit of trouble now, but Y'shtola recognized the impulse for what it was, the desire to do things for oneself. And so she content to just watch.

And despite all that, Zoissette was still everything to Y'shtola. She admired the scene, as cotton slid over soft brown skin and powerful muscular thighs. As Zoissette curled, making the quietest pained whimpering noise at the effort, at having to flex so far, to get them around her kneecaps. And her heart soared as at last Zoissette had them down her calves, then around an ankle, then kicked off unceremoniously off to one side of the bed.

Zoissette laid down, throwing her head back, and sucked in a sharp breath, and Y'shtola laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you well to continue?"

Zoissette nodded. "...just not as flexible as I should be yet. Aches. I'm alright."

"Very well," said Y'shtola. She sat back and allowed herself a moment more. Her love, bottomless. Even in this state, she was beautiful to Y'shtola.

She would always be beautiful, for she was Zoissette, and precious.

And also, her quim was right there.

"You may want to prop yourself up with a pillow," said Y'shtola, and Zoissette did so. Once she was resettled, Y'shtola crawled up next to her, and threw a leg over her, straddling her once more.

Just the other way around this time. She laid down on Zoissette, finding a position to be reasonably comfortable in, and once she was satisfied, she reached down, and hiked her skirt up, exposing her lower half, to offer Zoissette something to look at. And grumbled a bit as her tail interfered with the motion, before she just sat up and pulled it to a more cooperative position. Hands on her hips, she nodded her head, and then lowered herself once more, hiking her skirts up again.

She could not see Zoissette's face anymore. But situated as she was, she could feel her, feel the way her breath was shifting, feel her stomach tightening, feel that control asserting itself.

Y'shtola was going to find each and every way past that one day.

But for now, she was at last, satisfied with the setup, and finally lowered her head, rubbing her nose in Zoissette's pubic hair, appreciating the feel of it against her cheek as she nuzzled it, and gave one of Zoissette's thighs the gentlest of kisses.

"May I touch?" asked Zoissette.

"You may."

Zoissette was still far taller than her. While she had her face in Zoissette's crotch, there was no reasonable way for Zoissette to return the favor in kind, not exactly. She did not mind. And she did not mind when she felt Zoissette's hands on her ass, and tracing the outsides of her thighs. She let her tail have its way, swishing and swaying, the ruffles of her skirt playing around her butt, bumping into Zoissette's hands and arms, and she wiggled her hips, attempting to entice, showing off.

She fancied herself a gift for Zoissette and Zoissette alone.

And she was giving a show for Zoissette alone to enjoy while Y'shtola herself built up to the main event. She continued to pepper Zoissette's thigh with kisses, finishing with just the tiniest nip, just the lightest touch of teeth to skin. Behind her, she heard Zoissette's breath hitch, while under her, she felt it, felt the twitch of her chest as she gasped. She hummed, deeply and lovingly, and she ran her hands down toned thighs, digging her fingers in just enough to find the texture of muscles. Powerful, almost like thick corded braids, and she took her time to appreciate them.

And Zoissette appreciated the attention in turn, making the most delightful soft noises, her legs slowly spreading apart as she warmed to Y'shtola's touch. As Y'shtola in turn returned to kisses, now on the other thigh. As her hands continued to explore. Pressing against the outside of a buttcheek. Playing along the upper leg. Lightly, experimentally, from time to time, touching Zoissette's outer lips. Feeling Zoissette's breathing grow deep, hear it become throaty. Buring her face deep in the woman's crotch and breathing in deep, noticing and delighting in the change in scent.

At last, however, Y'shtola grew tired of where she was. She simply could not get a good angle like this, not with the way Zoissette was sitting. She pulled away, and Zoissette made a disappointed noise as her hands left her ass. Y'shtola simply looked at her primly as she held her skirts around her waist, climbing off Zoissette and sitting to one side on her knees.

"Sit up and spread your legs if you will, master," she said. Zoissette's face flushed, and she hurried to shift position. "Knees up," she commanded, and Zoissette nodded, bending her knees. Y'shtola moved around to be between them, and rested her hands on Zoissette's knees for a moment, enjoying the sight.

And then she shifted around and made herself comfortable. She was in no rush. The only thing she wished was maybe an opportunity to pull off the maid outfit. She would need to be asking Tataru later about a setup which perhaps featured a blouse and skirt, instead, if she were to make a habit of this.

But that was a problem for later. For now, she had momentum, and she intended to capitalize on it.

But first.

"Is this still alright?" she asked.

Zoissette swallowed, and then nodded. "Yes. Please. Please keep going. I need this. I need you."

Oh, too easy.

"You need me? To what end..." and she paused, waited, luxuriated.

"...master?" said Y'shtola, voice low, dark.

"If you do not eat my quim I will explode," said Zoissette desperately.

Y'shtola laughed, and she kept laughing as she lowered herself slowly, and let her laugh trail off as she got close, and locked her eyes onto Zoissette's as she almost made contact.

Zoissette was tense, still. The anticipation was present in every ilm of her being. Her body was almost iron.

Y'shtola winked, closed her eyes, and her lips met Zoissette's, wetness of tongue meeting the wetness of Zoissette's body, and she heard Zoissette gasp with the release of the breath she had been holding.

She hummed appreciatively, and pushed her tongue between Zoissette's folds. She wanted to take it slow. To take her time. To really appreciate the moment and show her appreciation in turn. But the teasing, the conversation, the openness, the everything was upon her, and she was suddenly aware of a hunger she did not even fully realize she had.

She wanted to hear Zoissette scream, and she wanted it to be her name, and she wanted to push Zoissette over the edge, and she wanted. Oh, she understood what Zoissette meant, she wanted. And so she abandoned herself. Her tongue was in Zoissette as far as it could go, eager, hungry, licking, first one side, then the other. She arched her back and scooted forward, one hand holding her steady against Zoissette's thigh, the other finding its way in, fingers reaching deep into Zoissette's quim. She struggled to control herself, shaking slightly. She had to control herself. Her lips needed to find Zoissette's clit first. She needed to, and there. She puckered, and kissed the clit deeply, her lips around it, her tongue pressing against it, as she made space for her fingers, and pressed.

The suddenness and speed of her attack rocketed up Zoissette's body, and the hand she had on the thigh had to move to push down against Zoissette's stomach, to remind the other woman to stay in place. She felt Zoissette's body tense, felt her lock, her breathing having gone rapid.

"Oh gods oh fury oh gods," panted Zoissette. "Too much too much too much," and Y'shtola, though reluctant, relented, eased off, backed away.

"No no no more more more," said Zoissette immediately. "Don't stop don't stop please don't AH!" she screamed, as Y'shtola needed no further encouragement.

Her lips held suction tight. Her tongue pressed hard. Her fingers, curled, and she jerked her hand inside of Zoissette until, at last, Zoissette boiled over, screaming her name, hands on either side of her head and fingers clenching and clenching against her scalp, Zoissette still controlling herself. Resisting actually grabbing, resisting actually forcing Y'shtola's head to stay in place.

Not that she would have minded. Conversation for late. As it was, she was holding herself in place perfectly find, even though she well had to use her whole body to do so.

Zoissette caught her breath once more, gasping. "More," she said, hoarsely, and Y'shtola was but too happy to oblige. She pressed in again, tongue and lips and hands and face and pressure built up to release, and Zoissette's legs wrapped around her, and she surprised, near crushed by the force.

Zoissette curled tight, and Y'shtola freed herself enough to look up, to see her face, scrunched in focus and concentration as she bore down. She almost needed not do anything, as she just kept her fingers inside Zoissette, moving them rhythmically, and let another wave crash through Zoissette.

This time, Zoissette went limp, practically throwing herself back down on the bed. When she spoke, it was between gasps.

"Okay. No more. I'm done. That's it. Oh, gods, Shtola. I think I'm dead. Oh, gods, it hurts like I'm dead."

Y'shtola became aware of her own breathing, heavy, almost panting. She reached a hand up, to gently stroke Zoissette's side. Zoissette twitched, but did not pull away from the gesture, instead reaching down her own hand to touch Y'shtola's, encouraging it to stay.

"Are you quite alright?" said Y'shtola, truly concerned. That had been rather more than she had planned for for the day. And, in retrospect, possibly more than Zoissette could handle.

"My legs are killing me. My stomach is killing me. I have never been better. Let me die here like this. It's a good death."

"No such thing," chided Y'shtola, but her tone was light, teasing. Relieved, she extricated herself from between Zoissette's legs, and moved up to hold her in her arms. Zoissette, gratefully, rolled to collapse against her.

"Thank you," said Zoissette at last.

Y'shtola played with her hair, and nuzzled the top of her head.

"Have you been sufficiently reminded, my love?" she murmured into Zoissette's ear.

Zoissette looked confused for a moment, but then her face lit up, and she smiled, contented, and sighed happily.

"I am alive," she said.

"And desired," said Y'shtola, and kissed her once more.

[fanto-thegreat]

Fantoccio what are your thoughts on the film industry such as hollywood?

“ Hmn… well, I can respect the budget and some of the actors and scripts… But the cliche’s are a bit too…well, cliche. Plus the overuse of curses! If you are going to say the same word so many times then at least change it up and censor it a few times! “

[skellebonez]

A Matter of Affection (A Gen LMK Oneshot)

I have a lot of feelings about AroAce MK and Sun Wukong. So, naturally, I HAD to write my own little oneshot of MK realizing he is now a celebrity and that comes with the side effect of... suitors. That he does not want. I am not aromantic, but I am asexual and have talked to enough aromantic people to know there is a lot of overlap between our experiences. So I did my best to convey this through MK and everyone else.

Hope you enjoy this!

(Note: DragonFruit, FreeNoodles, and IronBull are mentioned in passing. Written BEFORE Season 4 came out.)

AO3 Link.

Ok, MK, you can do this… You just have to ask him… ask your mentor for some advice, this is totally fine and not awkward at all. Asking for advice is completely normal. This isn’t awkward. Just. Ask… for advice…’

He was lying to himself, he knew it.

How could this not be awkward?

MK had never asked anyone, let alone Sun Wukong, for help with something like this before. He wanted to ask Mei, she was the only one who knew… well, everything about him at this point, but she was live streaming and he didn’t want to interrupt her while she was having fun just to ask for some advice. Even IF she would gladly pause the stream for his comfort once she realized he was being serious.

So, instead, he found himself flying over in bird form to Mount Huaguo so he could pay his mentor a visit. He’d been doing this just about every day he had free time (and wasn’t due for training) just to say hello, make sure the king wasn’t lonely and to bond more after everything that had happened over the last year. Things seemed to have finally smoothed out into some kind of new normal for everyone.

MK claimed the visit was to deliver Sun Wukong a free “canceled” order of noodles that was close to what he normally ordered, which was not entirely a lie. But he normally would have just eaten it himself or given it to Tang. So in reality it was just an excuse.

But in his attempt to psych himself up to ask for advice he managed to almost psych himself out.

This should be easy! The Monkey King and him were as close as they had ever been as mentor and student (to the point some people, Mei and Sandy namely, said they came off as family). And given who the Monkey King was he MUST have had to deal with similar awkward situations in the past.

So…

“Hey, uh, Monkey King?”

“Yeah bud?”

“Have you ever had someone confess they liked you before?”

Sun Wukong turned to look at his student, an almost disappointed look on his face.

“MK. Bud. I’m Sun Wukong. I’ll give you two guesses and the other one doesn’t count.”

“That many huh?”

“It was CONSTANT,” Sun Wukong said with a laugh. “I mean, I get it. How can I not attract so many admirers when I am…” The monkey king stood, smirking as he struck a pose worthy of any popular C-Drama poster. “Sun Wukong, the Handsome Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Hea-”

“Did you ever accept?” MK interrupted, immediately cringing at the fact he did so.

“Absolutely not,” Sun Wukong said with a shrug, seemingly not bothered by the interruption. “Even if I ever wanted a partner like that? I was way too busy. Journeys to journey on, monks to keep from being eaten alive, you know the story.”

“You never wanted a partner?” MK’s brow raised as he tried to remember all the stories about the immortal he had heard in the past. “Never?”

“Well… hmn” Sun Wukong trailed off, seeming to drop deep into thought as he rubbed his chin and looked into the distance. MK assumed he was trying to find the best words to use for his explanation. “How do I put it… Not never as in never wanting to have a companion. I loved being around people! And I loved some people, just not in the way other people seemed to have loved me. I wouldn’t mind having a life partner who’s cool with hugs and cuddles and spending all our time together without any of the other stuff! I don’t hate thinking about, like… kissing someone? Unless it’s on the cheek or something I’d rather just avoid that if I can, but if it makes my partner happy I think I would be ok with only that. That make sense?”

There was the softest kind of half joking grimace on the Monkey King’s face when he mentioned kissing, the same kind that MK had seen on his own face in the mirror. And then it clicked.

“Oh… my gosh…” MK said, eyes widening in realization. “Is this really going to be how I find out we’re both aroace? SERIOUSLY!?”

“Arrow what now?” 

“You don’t have any interest in being with anyone romantically?” MK asked, jumping to stand in front of his mentor. He almost bounced up and down in place, barely able to hold in his excitement. “At all? And never have?”

“No..?” Sun Wukong said slowly, reaching out to put a hand on MK’s head to hold him steady for a second. “Bud, answer my question pl-”

“Aromatic asexual,” MK blurted out, awkward and almost too fast.

It clearly took the king a second to process what he said, but once he did…

“THERE’S A NAME FOR IT!?”

“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!” MK replied to the king’s outburst with a laugh. He bounced harder, despite the hand on his head, in sheer excitement. “I’ve never actually met someone else in person who’s aro or ace or bot, only online! And-and it’s YOU of all people and- WAIT!”

MK held out his hands, taking the immortal’s hand off his head.

“That was a sudden change of tone,” Sun Wukong joked when he caught the serious look on his student’s face. “I’m gonna take a guess and ask if this aroace stuff is related to your initial question?”

“Yeah,” MK said, now feeling a bit more confident and comfortable in being able to ask for some advice. “There’s this girl who’s been coming to the shop over the last few weeks, almost every two days. I think she’s one of the civilians I rescued last month when that clan of beetle demons came to attack the city. And uh…”

“She asked you out, didn’t she?”

“YES!” MK said with a groan as he pulled at his hair. “And she’s super nice and really pretty and any guy or girl would probably be SUPER LUCKY to date her but! I don’t! LIKE PEOPLE IN THAT! WAY!”

“Breathe, MK,” Sun Wukong said, gently guiding his student to let his hair go. “What did you tell her?”

“I had to… think about it?”

“Oh boy…”

“I didn’t wanna tell her no immediately!” MK said, biting his lip now. “I felt… I dunno, pressured? Pigsy and Tang were watching me and…it was awkward.”

“Well, you have to tell her no somehow,” Sun Wukong said with a nod as he rubbed his chin. “You can’t leave her hanging, there’s bound to be some hero worship driving her to ask you out the way she did so quickly and that can be a tough thing to accidentally play into.”

“I know…” MK said. “But I don’t know how. And what about after that? Are MORE people going to ask me out?”

“Definitely, you’re a celebrity now,” Sun Wukong said, almost sounding apologetic.

“Aw man… what should I do?” MK asked as his mentor paced around him in a circle. “Just say ‘I don’t swing any way ever, I’d rather just have super close friends’ for the rest of my life? I’ve only had to say it like… twice and I’m already feeling burnt out!”

“You turned down two other people?”

“No,” MK said with a shake of his head. “I’ve told Mei I’m aroace and I had to tell the metal brothers so they would stop trying to set me up with Mei and Red.”

“Understood. Well, you don’t have to say it every time,” Sun Wukong said with a wave of his hand. “You could wear a hat with that on it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Listen,” the monkey king said with a smile as he finally stopped in front of his student. “If you can handle the Lady Bone Demon you can handle telling a normal human you’re not interested in them. And if they give you any trouble, you have a whole family behind you to back you up… Even people who can pick up a building with their bare hands could use emotional support, or so Sandy keeps telling me.”

“... that means a lot, Monkey King,” MK said with a genuine smile. “But I… how do I tell her no if she asks me at work again? I don’t wanna be unprofessional and make Pigsy look bad.”

“Good point,” Sun Wukong said with a hum. “And my usual ‘no thanks’ and flying off wouldn’t really work when you’re trapped by societal convention… BUT! There’s someone else who may be able to help you since he also works in the service industry!”

“... wait, you don’t mean-”

~

“What do you want, Noodle Boy?”

“Aw, no hello to your second best pal?”

“HELLO, Noodle Boy,” Red Son said as he rolled his eyes. “What do you want? Answer quickly before I shut this-”

“How do I turn down a girl who asks me out on a date?”

The fiery demon stared blankly at him, blinking only when MK rushed into his house to get out of the fiery inferno around the Bull Family home and into some shade.

“I… someone asked you out on a date?” Red Son asked, raising one eyebrow in confusion. “You? Noodle Boy? The man who literally never noticed when people are flirting with him?”

“I don’t do that!” MK said, immediately pausing. “... have people been flirting with me? Really?”

“Constantly,” Red Son said as he shut the door and turned to face his unwanted guest. “I honestly don’t know how you never- WHY ARE YOU IN MY FACE?”

“Listen to me carefully,” MK said as he held Red Son’s face in his hands. “I trust you with this information because you’re my friend and Mei loves you. I am aroace. If love was pizza you could order? And platonic love was the toppings? I would be ordering none pizza with left beef every day of my life. So I wouldn’t know flirting if it bit me on the ass.”

“... oooooooooooooooh,” Red Son said with realization dawning on his face as he pushed the other’s hands away. “I see, you’re like the Monkey King. That changes nothing, really, barring the urgency you must be feeling.”

“You knew the Monkey King was aroace?”

“It wasn’t hard to piece together,” Red Son said with a shrug. “I should have guessed the same about you, given your obliviousness to the aforementioned flirting. And also how strongly you reacted when someone assumed you were dating Mei the other week during your last third wheeling session on our date.”

“And I am very sorry about that,” MK said honestly. “But I could still use some help.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Red Son asked with a frown. “If the Monkey King couldn’t help you in this area? I was the worst person for you to come to as a second choice. I wasn’t exactly waving suitors off with a baseball bat while working on my bots or helping my mother plan father’s return. Neither was flirtation the first on anyone’s mind when the New Year celebrations were in full swing with my father standing behind me and people coming back to complain my food was ‘too spicy’. And considering we live in the middle of nowhere I didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with random peasants flirting with me, you know.”

“There’s no way that’s possible when you look the way you do,” MK countered.

Red Son sputtered, looking at the other man in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“I’m aroace, Red, not incapable of recognizing when someone is objectively hot… pun not intended.”

“I am just going to let that be a compliment and move on,” Red Son said, his face matching his name more and more the longer he spoke. “Anyway, Mei is the first person to ask me out in centuries. I genuinely have no idea how I would tell someone no because I haven’t had to since I was like… the demon age equivalent of 15. And I didn’t have a chance to because that guy was trying to steal from us and got pushed off the roof by one of my Bull Clones.”

“Going to overlook the admission of murder-”

“HE LIVED!”

“-and instead ask if you know anyone else who can help?” MK continued. “I’d ask Mei but, you know, streaming.”

“Hmmn… You could always ask my parents?” Red Son offered with a shrug. “From what they’ve mentioned in the past they were both quite popular with their own respective circles, father especially. They had to turn down more suitors than they could count so they would likely be your best bet for discussing a plan of action.”

“... I mean… I guess that makes sense?” MK mused for a moment. “You’re sure they’re not going to just… tell me to ‘crush them like the unworthy peon they know themselves to be’, right?”

“I make no promises.”

“Ah. Great… I don’t… I mean, I… Could we keep the aroace thing between us for now?”

Red Son looked at MK for a moment before sighing, resting a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“They’re my parents, Noodle Boy, you don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want them to know.”

“... thanks. I mean it.”

And he did.

~

DBK stared at MK.

MK stared at DBK.

"I… usually ran away," DBK admitted with an oddly embarrassed and soft tone.

"I don't know what answer I expected. But it wasn't that."

"I was a VERY shy calf, THIEF!"

MK had managed to avoid having to come out to literally everyone he talked to that day, but in exchange for having Red Son keep his secret for the short time being until he felt it necessary to tell the entire Bull Family (and there was no need in his mind, they could live without ever knowing this about him) he was now having one of the most awkward conversations of his entire 21 years of living.

And he thought asking the Monkey King was going to be awkward.

“It was quite adorable to see him literally running away from his suitors,” Princess Iron Fan said with a chuckle. “Maybe that’s why I gave him a chance when he finally worked up the courage to ask me. Even when he saw me literally blowing his competition away with my fan he still braved the chance to give me flowers and ask for one afternoon together.”

“Aw, that’s really sweet,” MK couldn’t help but say when he saw the wistful look Red’s mom wore when looking at her husband. Romance may have never been for him personally, but a good romantic story or seeing other people happy always managed to make him happy by proxy. “Unfortunately, I don’t think those are options for me.”

“Understandably so,” DBK said with a gruff nod. “You have both an image to upkeep as the simian’s successor AND as a duty to your boss.”

“Maybe Mei is done streaming…” MK muttered. “She’s had to tell so many people no, especially stream snipers, that she’ll probably know what to do.”

Princess Iron Fan chuckled at the mention of her son’s girlfriend.

"Frankly I'm quite amazed that Mei had to be the one to pursue my son, considering he is usually the one more prone to pining."

"MOTHER!"

"It runs in the family, dear."

"Not you too, father…"

“And I am going to head out before Red Son feels I know too much!” MK announced, turning to leave. “Thank you for the advice anyway, I appreciate it!”

"You know you could ask your dads for advice, right?" PIF said suddenly.

"...I forgot I could do that."

"How are we not dead?" DBK questioned under his breath. "He forgets so much."

“I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY ASKED THEM IF YOU CAME TO ME, NOODLE BOY!”

~

MK felt so… stupid.

He couldn’t believe that he never thought to just ask Pigsy and Tang. They were right there and all he would have to do was wait for the day to end. So… why?

Why not just ask his dads?

“MK!” Mei’s voice suddenly sounded as he slowly walked his way back through the city, pulling him from his thoughts. “I was just heading to get some dinner at Pigsy’s! I assume you’re heading in the same way?”

“Sort of?” MK answered with an awkward chuckle. “I’m kinda… taking my time in a walk of shame since I realized I just made my day a lot harder than it needed to be.”

“What do you mean?” Mei asked as she fell into step beside her friend.

“A girl I rescued asked me out on a date and I didn’t exactly tell her no or yes,” MK started, watching as Mei grimaced in sympathy. “So I asked Monkey King for some advice since, you know, he’s bound to have experience with fans and stuff asking him out. But he couldn’t help me with telling her no if she asks while I’m at work. Then he sent me to Red Son who also couldn’t give me advice so he sent me to his parents, who ALSO couldn’t give me advice because they either ran or literally tossed their confessors away from them and THEN PIF said I could have asked my dads and I realized she was right and I wasted basically my whole day running around for dating advice… and now the Monkey King and Red Son know about me being aroace too, that also happened.”

“Whoa, slow your roll,” Mei said, pulling MK to the side of the walkway so people could go around them. “You told Sun Wukong and Red you’re ace? One after the other?”

“Yeah,” MK said with a nod.

“OK, well,” Mei said with her own nod. “Considering you’re telling me and nothing else was mentioned I assume they both took it well! Which is good, glad for you, but… I also know your dads don’t know yet. Are you comfortable coming out three times in one day to four people?”

“It’s way less embarrassing than what I’m going to ask them,” MK said slowly. “And embarrassment is really what I’m worried about-”

“I’m not asking if it’s embarrassing,” Mei said slowly. She put a hand on MK’s shoulder. “I’m asking if you’re comfortable. You had a panic attack when you told ME. And I know they’re them and things are definitely going to be ok, but it’s a lot in one day dude. That’s… that’s a lot of coming out one after the other.”

MK paused, looking at Mei for a moment before smiling and taking her hand off his shoulder to just hold it for a second.

“I think I’ll be ok,” he said. “I’d appreciate some support, though? I think after LBD my anxiety meter is a little broken so I may be running on adrenaline right now.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Mei said as she squeezed his hand. “We’re BBFs, Best Buds Forever. A little support is the least I can offer.”

“Thanks. Like I said though, I’m more worried about the embarrassment. Do you know how embarrassing it is to ask your parents for relationship advice?" MK asked with a deadpan tone. "Let alone dating advice from ones who don't know you have no interest in dating and you have to ask them about how to turn people DOWN?"

"Nope," Mei said. "I looked it all up online."

"I fear for what you may have read."

"I am eternally traumatized!" Mei said with a wide smile, her tone making MK chuckle despite the implications.

“... you’re a really good friend, you know that?”

“... I try to be.”

“Thanks. I mean it.”

And he meant it then too.

~

“I… I need to ask you guys something,” MK said almost immediately after they got to the noodle shop.

Maybe it was his tone, more tired and shaky than he meant for it to sound. He guessed some of the adrenaline had seeped away from him on his short walk back with Mei. Or maybe it was the fact it was such a slow day that Pigsy never even had to call him back and the shop was empty and quiet until the door opened for himself and Mei.

But something about the situation made his dads look at each other in concern.

“Sure, sit down,” Tang said, gesturing for MK to sit next to him. Mei sat down to his other side with no need for guidance.

"What’s up?” Pigsy said as he stopped what he was doping to stand in front of MK. When there was no reply he sighed, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to us about anything, right?" 

That softest smile that was reserved only for comforting family made MK feel like he really could be honest with his dads. He told everyone else by now so… why not them? He could totally do it.

"Well… I have… a bit of girl trouble?" MK started, holding up a hand before either of them could say anything else. “But it’s… I want to… turn her down?”

“That’s it?” Pigsy said with a raise of his brow. “Is this the same girl that asked you out yesterday?”

“Yeah…” MK said slowly. He felt Mei squeeze his hand in silent assurance. “It’s just… she’s pretty! But I have no idea who she is and… I don’t… I don’t… wanna date. I don’t wanna date anyone… ever?”

“MK,” Tang said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “MK, were you worried about telling us that?”

“Yeah?” He said quickly with a shrug. “I know, you always say you’ll love me no matter what, but… I mean… you two looked so excited at the idea of me dating someone that I felt I couldn’t say no to her. Plus, I didn’t wanna look like a jerk as the Monkie Kid or make Pigsy’s look bad because of me. I-”

“Whoa, hang on,” Pigsy said as he leaned over the counter. “Kid, MK, you’re not gonna make the shop look bad because you turned down someone who asked you out on the job. If anything, I’d make us look bad by chasing them out if they gave you any trouble for it.”

“Wait, you mean it?” MK said in awe as he stared at his dad. 

“Yup,” Pigsy said with a nod.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel pressured to say yeah by being excited,” Tang said, looking at Pigsy and waiting for his nod before continuing. “We just want you to be happy.”

“And what if never being with someone is what makes me happy?” MK asked. “What if I wanna just be with you guys and have friends I can hug and that’s it?”

“Then we’re happy if you’re happy,” Pigsy and Tang said at the same time, looking at each other in surprise before chuckling at the way they synced up.

“Oh thank HECK,” MK said, immediately slumping down onto the counter. “I was worried over nothing and now I’m exhausted.”

“Hey, you were worried about how they’d react and that’s understandable,” Mei said as she spoke up from his other side. “Like how I was with my parents.”

“And there’s no exhaustion that a nice bowl of Pigsy’s noodles can’t fix,” Pigsy said with a chuckle. “Come on. Tell us everything. It sounds like we have some revelations to go over because you’re… non-romantic?”

“Aromantic,” Tang corrected. “Hmn… maybe that explains why you have so much love to give to everyone else platonically.” 

His tone of voice told MK that was clearly a joke made in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

And it worked.

As awkward as it was, MK started to laugh.

“Well… it started when I saved her about a month ago.”

[matthew-novak]

SPOILERS FOR THIS WEEKS X-MEN RED ISSUE:

I just have a lot of thoughts about this weeks issue of Xmen red….. Hmn I’m not overly happy if I’m being honest here. First of all I think it’s good that Charles has finally decided he needs to talk about Erik, he’s clearly not been okay ever since he died. But I really don’t like some of the dialogue here, I don’t like the insinuation that Mr Charles and Erik, aka “we are one and the same”, “we know eachother better than we know ourselves”, THAT Charles and Erik, you’re telling me that Erik never opened up about his true self to Charles, like come on now, what kind of absolute bullshit writing is that??? Sometimes I feel like the writers have NO real understanding of the characters they are dealing with and the backstory of said character’s. If anything, CHARLES was the ONLY ONE Erik could be his true self with, and that has been expressed a multitude of times throughout comics. I just find it weird that they’ve flipped it so that we’re supposed to think Ororo somehow knew him better? Just because they got closer before he died, there’s no way.

I think it’s sweet that Ororo confirmed to Charles that Erik was thinking of him as he died, and that he was worried about Charles because he cared so much for Charles. But I honestly just think it’s all watered down compared to what could have been if they treated Charles and Erik like who they are, and who they’ve always been to eachother. Their worlds have always revolved around eachother and their shared dream, and somehow despite many obstacles they always end up back together, if only for a little while before the world rips them apart again. So in conclusion I just think this doesn’t seem right, this doesn’t fit. I think Charles anger and his desperate fear is really good, and quite realistic, he misses Erik, he’s not over his death and it’s taking a deep toll on him. But marvel needs to stop downplaying their relationship.

If you’re not going to give us the non platonic relationship between them that we deserve, then for fucks sake don’t also downplay and water down their general relationship.

[dreamsofminnie]

[Luke Pearce x Reader] Series

Ch. 5-10 [Luke]

Previous | Masterlist | Next

—His Escape | Word Count: 2,590

—March 16th, 12:23 AM

[[Recent message: I can’t help but peek into your room to see if you came back secretly.]]

Unbeknownst, the 100th sigh has now erupted from your lips as you fiddled with your lunch half eaten.

Peanut perched beside your plate occasionally pecking the dried figs you set for him.

“Peanut, you must miss your dad right? I miss Luke very much too.” Your pointer finger strokes the birb somberly as he peeps quietly.

“How many days has it been since he was gone? hmn, 4 days.” Laying your arms and head across the marble countertop your phone opened up to Luke’s one sided conversation.

Groaning you release your phone and bury your head between your outstretched arms.

“What to dooo, Fridays were our game and movie nights… ughhh! Luke you jerk! Maing me wait for you to come back like some military wife!! Give you a good scolding when you get back!”

Straightening your body and your resolve, you reach your finger out for Peanut to perch on and head upstairs.

“Apologizes Lukey, but I’m rummaging through your stuff.” Throwing his door open you find his usual messy desks and bookshelves that line the wall. His bed look haggard like he has been living here, in which, he really hasn't.

“Haizz, as always. Super messy Luke” Your sigh was so fond, one might’ve mistaken you as a wife whose waiting for their husband on an abroad trip across the world.

—March 16, 12:27 AM

[[Sent: Do you mind if i clean up a bit]]

[[Sent: I wont touch your important papers]]

Stuffing your phone in the back pocket, you roll up your sleeves to get to work. “Luke admires Sherlock Holmes to such an extent that he even matches Sherlock’s messy workplace.” Despite the grin on your face, the heavy document lifting will be a huge workout.

“If only you had arms to help me Peanut.” He tilted his head at your call while staying out of your way on the far window sill, his favorite sunbathing spot.

Piles upon piles were stacked against a corner you cleaned beforehand. Moved out of the path so access to other areas was easily accessible. Many of the papers were covered, with a label tag—simple to comprehend for the correct file in any case.

They stood tall so thickly that they rivaled your throat width solely in how many pages they contained.

How Luke actually managed to write up and read that is beyond you. The real hassle in detective work is the paperwork that research brings.

Even just a smidge, do you understand all of Luke’s sleepless nights you have caught him with his room light still shining bright. You had scolded him once while he apologized profusely. You were pretty sure he still managed to find a loophole and kept up with his late-night work hours. And you couldn’t say anything then, since you were studying up till sunrise.

One unfortunate chance was when Luke and you thought of sneaking into the kitchen for a quick snack and perhaps some caffeinated tea. Catching each other on tip-toes in pajamas, you making tea, and Luke getting snacks, was a fun core memory. Both of you ended up sitting in the living room working side-by-side. Till one of you would fall asleep on the other then eventually night passes then you and Luke wake up snuggled close.

Warmth had spread to you from cherished memories of a family you held dear. Wherever Luke may be, you just hoped he comes back in one piece, breathing and smiling bright.

Papers all stacked and on the side,you get to sweeping some of the discarded trash. Crumpled papers that— if unraveled, were rushed thought processes of a detective onto an exciting new lead.

His favorite juice boxes littered around his small trash can, as if his aim was terrible and he missed the trash with every new juice box.

Leftover craft materials were present only beside his bedside, which seemed like wood shavings, a dull carving knife, and cut-out paper. It seems you needed a vacuum for all those.

Floor now all clean and vacuumed, you reach Luke’s desk and bookshelf behind it. Many spaces on the shelves were free so packing the documents away in them was alright to do. You can just sort them for him and label each shelf with the contents. You had done this for Luke once in his other office. It wasn't as messy as his room is now, but Luke really enjoys your neat and tidy file sorting. He’s called it, “[Name]’s personal file service! Luke's only V.I.P service, right?~”

You giggle to yourself as you hear his voice through those words.

Unable to reach the higher shelves, you decided to save those for after every other thing that needed to be cleaned. His desk was just for area mapping, entry and exit routes to suspected buildings. Shifting them in a pile to the side of the table you hesitate if you wanted to peer through his desk cabinets. Personal or not, you would prefer if you had his permission first-hand.

Though i guess you were already invading his chambers without consent.

“I’m so sorry Luke. I will confess all my sins to your punishments when you get back, let me indulge in your personal affairs just this once.”

Shutting your eyes tight, you feel Peanut flap his wings and perch on your shoulder, eyes intently locked on the cabinet handle you were clutching. Opening one eye to watch Peanut you open the first drawer and crouch down to look closer.

The bottom is lined with thin files, scribbled notes, unopened letters, and craft utensils like the carving knife you found earlier. Not at all work-related, you could tell by the decorative ornaments that littered the box. Some were beads, pieces of jewelry, and preserved rose petals. Nothing matched Luke in this cabinet.

These were for you.

Luke has made many of things for gifts in the years spent together, you can recognize his crafts anywhere. And these were meant for you. This cabinet was all of you.

“..maybe I really shouldn’t have.” Peanut seemed to notice your surprise, shame and guilt. He chirped and flew down into the drawer hopping on the beads and letters as if finding something in that stack. “Peanut??! Hey hey, get out of there.”

His chirping grew persistent when spotting something in the far back of the cabinet. Dragging the item out with struggle, Peanut chips for you to help, so you worridly comply. Peanut would only do things on his own accord if, it was benefiting Luke, or, to embarrass Luke. You can’t tell which this is just yet.

Taking the wood block that Peanut dragged out to show you, you gap at the wood block.

It was a carving. A blooming rose so beautifully detailed and outlined down to the thinnest carve marks. A bird just like Peanut was the centerpiece in the rose, it sat at the middle in an angled side view as its wings raised to fly. You could tell it was unfinished because these types of carvings needed a thick coat of paint, and this was not at all painted just yet.

Dragging your hand across the carefully detailed and hard carve marks, you felt marks on the other side of the block when your hand moved. Stunned, you turn it around and freeze even further. Peanut tweeted and sat on your knee awaiting your final reaction. The back of the block was empty besides the small word carving on the bottom corner.

“Congratulations on your Graduation!!” A small sticky note wrote, “I always knew my Watson could push forth through the intense studying to earning your degree!! I’m really proud of you.” A small heart that was drawn in the corner of the sticky note was very light, as if he was hesitant to include it.

A bubble of sad inducing emotions threatened the peace and tranquility in your facade these past days. It prodded in your throat as your mouth was in a trembling frown, tears near slipping.

Peanut could feel the anguish radiating off you and chirped worridly, hopping closer to your face and rubbing his body against your skin. Fingers hardening against the wood, careful not to ruin it, you swallow the despair down and hold yourself.

“Luke…you silly boy….my graduation isn’t till about month from now.. You didn’t have to prepare so hard. Thank me in person if you’re so proud of me. That’s all I want..” The repeated words as if you were in a trance, were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t dare speak those 3 words ‘I miss you.’

Inhaling deeply and exhaling you sniffle the rest of the sadness away and get up off the floor ready to finish the late-spring cleaning you started.

Peanut who still sat on your shoulder tilted his body at you. Patting his head and cooing at how good Peanut was in revealing Luke’s secrets, you hide the wood carving back in the drawer with your name basically plastered in it.

“Cleaning really helps cure some sadness.” Because a distraction was what you needed.

Getting that stepladder for dusting the bookshelf that you put off before, you reached the top shelf and make your way down. Pushing aside books so every corner was dirt-free, you notice Luke has a lot of thick detective books.

You snicker when you spot one light novel that you lent Luke because you thought he could brush up on modern romance stories. Luke said he lost the book in his bag, turns out that the book actually sat dust-free on his top shelf. ‘If you liked that light novel so much I would have gotten you the whole series Luke!’

Somehow you found that the second level of the bookshelf was dust-free, while even the bottom first shelf was super dusty. Strange. You didn’t find any of the books or locked files to be much interesting so you let that go. It might’ve been the case Luke is pursuing at the moment.

Sadly finished with the whole spring cleaning in Luke’s room, you watch the room as you exit and close the door in front of you slowly. It was high-time you study instead of reminiscing memories in your roommate/childhood friend/best friend’s room.

🔐[TimeSkip]🔍

—April 13

A hefty sigh rumbles through your throat into a groan.

“A new bestie is in order. What kind of person doesn’t even attend their best friend’s graduation ceremony? Peanut! Your father is absurd.” Same as normal, you sat in your room sighing and complaining to the Myna bird.

Peanut could never exactly escape this weekly routine every time your studying was complete and you had time to relax but that time was spent going crazy with the bird.

Though you had a reason to do so. Peanut hasn't been responsive as of these weeks, only when Luke was mentioned he would chirp quietly and stomp around to show aggravation. He has also gotten slimmer, without Luke who indulged Peanut in snacks way too much, Peanut ate only a necessary amount. No matter how much packs of dried figs—his absolute favorite snack—you bought, Peanut would eat four max then just sit on top of the bag.

Holding in another incoming sigh, you got up and stretched your arms above your head. “Come on Peanut, let’s go out today. Fresh air will free our shackles.” Swiftly slipping into your shoes at your front door, you call to the bird.

Peanut flew up and settled on your head, cozying up to your fluffy hair.

You both exit the apartment and out onto the lively streets. The bustling of people and chatter felt so distant. Only when a person is walking around and talking to another do you not notice how odd it is when you lose that company and instead walk alone hearing just the idle chats of random lives.

Perhaps Luke was feeling the same thing at this moment. You wish you could be connected to him like this.

The goal of movement was… unknown at the moment. You didn’t really know where to go when you suggested a walk.

“Parks are normally where people take strolls, right? Aghh…I’m talking as if I’m not normal and trying to BE normal..” I guess talking to yourself—and talking to a pet bird– isn’t very ordinary in the first place.

After arriving at the park and down a path towards the large constructed lake, you found a bench to rest on while Peanut happily ventures somewhere close by.

Sounds of the breeze and paces of people either jogging or walking past calms your mind of the occasional fog it gets on days like this with nothing to do but worry.

A guy riding a bicycle passes by but he doesn’t even leave your line of sight yet before the guy tumbles off the bike. You jolt up and rush over to help him up.

“Are you okay sir?!?? That was quite a tumble.” Holding a hand out as he sheepishly takes it and thanks you.

“Ah yes! Probably just a minor scratch on my knees, thank you for helping. I was in too much of a hurry to deliver these.” He rubs his neck then points towards the folded papers in his bicycle’s basket that have now spilled all over the grass.

“Oh, let me help!” You bent down to gather the papers and your hand freezes.

“I’m really sorry for having you help me twice like this! I’m grateful that you are so nice!!” He rambles on while grabbing the papers and stacking them back in the bicycle’s basket. “...and like–today was really busy so—work’s been piling up on me—...” Your ears couldn’t focus on the words and blocked out what he said. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears instead, the ringing of your mind engulfed your senses.

You were too fixated. On the front page of the newspaper.

“DETECTIVE LUKE PEARCE SOLVES A 15 YEAR ONGOING CASE IN LESS THAN 5 DAYS!”

“...what. What is this news report from.”

The stare you gave the guy was so intense that he falters for a moment. “Uhm, I work at the North Stellis newsletter station. Ah well, as a newspaper boy, so not really AT the news station ahha..” He sweats under the intensity of your shock but a question floated to his head.

“Oh? Do you know Mr. Pearce?! I heard of his work. Think he’s been at North Stellis for a month now.” You bit your lips hiding at the ecstatic smile and feelings that was bubbling up.

“I actually do! Can I take one of these newspapers home? I want to read it closely.” A relieved and joyous expression overcame your form as you held the paper close to your body.

The newspaper guy nodded with a smile, “Of course! Not much of a thanks for helping me, but if you need it then you're welcome to take it.”

“Ah! I need to get going now though. Thank you for helping me!” He hopped on his bike, waved a farewell then peddled away just as Peanut got back from his grandeur adventure.

Perching on your shoulder while you giggled in glee, Peanut chirped—albeit a chirp with much life unlike his usual quiet chirps—questionably

“Peanut! We’re going to see Luke!!!”

Peanut’s bewildered chirp was the last thing you heard before you went bolting home.

Synopsis-> Luke the one who has always been by your side throughout school years. The one who wouldn’t hesitate to run back home to get you something you forgot and really needed. Luke who smiles so-so fondly at you when your smiles pierce through his bad days. The same Luke who thought running away from you would be beneficial for you.

It however, only served to push you out of your way to find him. Seeing your surroundings in an entire different city, you are in search of Luke by tracing his detective trails. His name plastered on the newspaper one day by accident, served you to find him quite quickly. Now by his side, the works of detectives and secret agents left you both to conquer swiftly.

Joining his line of work after thorough debating and arguing, he reluctantly let you invade his dangerous lifestyle. Of course–only with him by your side at all times.

aUgh,, this took awhile to finish🙇‍♀️

Lukey-boy, you will be in for a surprise😌😌

YAH. The next chap will take another decade since we will now officially start this series💀

Tags. @neigesprincess @crucnhice @backintomykpopphaseagain @kazedaka @little-aruma

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: my fav little hater was upset about my post getting interactions again so they flagged it to be incorrectly labeled, meaning it's hidden from the majority of people so repost time! there is no mature content in this chapter, suck it. based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your back and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no cool air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again.He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred–with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through the wall. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

[kelin-is-writing]

ASKJLAWKDJFJAKKDDN

CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS 🥳💕

and since it's time to celebrate i brought a special little dabi thought with me hehe

it took him a while to fully trust you even after you started dating. but once he's sure he can trust you wholeheartedly he finally opens up about his past. he even goes as far as telling you his real name but the way he talks about it makes it obvious that he doesn't like the name since it's tied to many horrible memories.

you make sure not to bring it up unless he initiates a conversation about his past which made him trust and love you even more (although he had thought that was impossible)

well and then you mess up. it happened in the heat of the moment while dabi was balls-deep inside of you. already thoroughly fucked out it just kinda slipped and when he heard you say his real name for the first time his brain practically short-circuited.

the only thing on his mind now was to hear you say it again and again until all you managed to produce were broken whimpers and moans.

he can't believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. someone who really sees him for once and doesn't cast him aside like a broken toy.

he's not dabi around you anymore from that night on. he's touya now when he's with you and he'll make sure it stays that way. the ring that's hidden in his coat's pocket (which he actually paid for) was only the beginning.

- 🥛

THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN FOR THE CONGRATULATIONS ON 500+ FOLLOWERS 🥳🎉🎊

and thank you so so much milk for always supporting me and sending such amazing asks all the time, it makes me feel truly happy and appreciated as a writer and also as a friend, because we share to each others thoughts through asks almost everyday, which makes me always hyped and looking forward to what you send for me!!!! 😁💕

and damn—

dabi is all badass and gangsta until you moan a “touyahhn!”, that comes out super erotic. he stills inside of you while glancing down your way with wide turquoise eyes as his hand goes to rest under your right knee “what did you just call me, princess?”, the villain questioned almost breathless, realizing what you did your hand flies in front of your mouth alarmed before you bite your bottom lip “i’m sorry i– ack!”, before you can even finish dabi’s his had snapped against yours sharply, making your body bounce upwards from the action, confused eyes looking at your boyfriend who was simply staring at you with a dark glint inside his orbs “tell me, what did you just call me princess?”, you gazed back at him unsure before answering finally “touya...”, your cheeks immediately turned red as you felt his dick getting more huge, than it already was, inside your cunt “shit– ‘ s not funny baby... if you my name like that, how am i supposed to not fuck you hard?”, and pressing your right leg against your chest, the raven haired boy started to slap his hips roughly against your getting drunk on the sweet moans leaving your mouth “say the name love, say it for me...”, he coos with a lovesick glint inside his eyess more intense than the other times, his hips rolling so deliciously against yours that you almost forgot what dabi just asked “touya... ahh... ngh– touya!”, you moaned resting both hands on his shoulders while arching your back at every thrust, but what you didn’t expect was for him to pick up pace out of nowhere as his hands went to grab your hips to pin you on place so he could pound your sopping wet pussy harder, getting like that a moan so loud you could bet everyone in your condo heard it “yes baby, my princess, my love, my everything, i’m here. feelin’ good?” “hmn so good, touyaaaa!”, you cried out surrounding his neck with your arms clenching around his length when the tip hit a spongy spot inside of you, it made your head spin and dabi’s hips stutter suddenly “argh–! fuck yeah... you feel so damn amazing y/n... ahh–!”, he heaved rasply while snapping his hips into yours with staccato groans, eye rolled almost completely to the back of his head while mouth was left gaping, that sight only was enough to make you cream all over his dick to the very base of it with a whiny loud moan “t-touya! inside! i want your cum inside!”, you begged closing your legs around his hips to stick him flush against your pelvis, pleading teary eyes looking at him so needy he let out a pleased groan as his arms went to hug your body beneath him, forehead resting against the pillow as he gritted his teethes hard “say no more!”, and with one last thrust he painted your walls with white ropes that drooled from inside your pussy to his pelvis, your heavy pants and the smell of sex filling the room “fuck... i love you so damn much baby...”, dabi spoke, his cheek now resting against your cleavage as he looked at you with loving and mesmerised eyes “i love you so damn much too, touya...”, you said back surrounding his head with one harm, to hold him close to your chest, while caressing his cheek with your thumb and tenderly smiling down at the villain who felt his heart flutter because of your words, your expression, your voice, your touch, everything.

once again the arsonist came to the conclusion of one sure thing: he wanted to marry you so bad.

[booburry]

Madison's Folly// Part 2 // a Gale Dekarios Fic // WC 4.2k // Part 1 / Part 3 / Series Complete

Series Summary: Madison did not have a life of substance nor a life that invoked jealousy of the passing mind, but the few good things she had, she held dear. So when the man she loved unequivocally was left heartbroken by a goddess and a magical curse within his body, Madi found herself searching for any means to rid him of his life threatening burden, no matter the personal cost. For all magic, no matter the greatness, comes with a cost to match.

AKA Madison does something foolish to prove her love for Gale without seeing the stark irony of the situation until it's far too late to step back.

A/N: this fic has an iron grip on my heart, finished this one and am already partially completed with part 3 - I hope to have that out within the next few days. ♥ thank you to all who have read so far! I hope you continue to enjoy it (I honestly have loved writing the party banter so much! haha).

Tags: Angsty, Emotions, Unrequited Love, Established Friendship/Connection, Dialogue Heavy/Driven, Gale is moody and desperately in love, so much so that the guy isn't entirely thinking straight

“I don’t suppose you are coming to sit with me just for the company?” Gale asked Elminster as the old man groaned into a seated position.

“You know me better than that, my boy.” Elminster softly advised, a small twist of his hand causing the flames to rise and roar before settling into a calmer state. The old man gave a soft reminiscent laugh. “There was a time when a simple trick like that would have you two stop fighting.”

“Yeah, well…I gather we have grown more complicated since we were nine.” Gale muttered as he watched the flames continue to dance while still stuck in his own personal misery.

“Mmm…yes.” Elminster agreed, mulling over something in his mind. “It is a wonder it worked back then, even, but I find one’s mind always does venture to thinking of the more pleasant times, hmn? Especially when one may be,” he drew out the ‘e’ long enough Gale’s ears rung, “mmm, looking at bleaker outcomes, hmn?”

“Yes, yes!” Gale groaned at the insistent way Elminster always followed a fact with ‘hmn?’ as if it was a question or a proposed view that was meant to be disputed. He also groaned at the fact he knew the topic couldn’t be avoided and despite Gale being aware he should be grateful to be able to speak to a person who understood the subject matter at hand as intimately as Gale did himself, it only made things worse.

All of this only continued to feel worse.

“She shouldn’t have been so stupid.” He had better words to choose from, better choices of what to say, yet these were the first to force themselves through his lips. He regretted them, as he regretted many things in his life—seemingly more every day—but he would be dishonest if he didn’t admit it was the thought constantly racing through his head.

“I fear it is the destiny of many mortals to lack the necessary foresight when it comes to matters of the heart—it is one of the many things that separates us from the gods.” Gale was growing impatient, not wanting to be lectured or chastised by yet another for his unconventional relationship with his goddess, nor on how he was stupidly blind to Madison’s affection until he was cursed with this orb and far too unstable, both body and mind, to be with her.

Nobody, except for Tara perhaps, understood the pain it brought him to hear Madi’s countless confessions of love, of the promises to care for him, to accept him as he was, to not wish for Gale of Waterdeep or some child prodigy of magic, nor Mystra’s Chosen, but just Gale Dekarios…the mortal man. Never had he thought anyone capable of seeking him without the whimsy and power he brought, for the resources he had and what he had to offer.

But even when he managed to feel worthy of such compassion and embrace, he was reminded by the sinister voice in his head that if he wasn’t good enough for a goddess, then how could he be good enough for anyone else?

“You don’t understand.” Gale finally grumbled, feeling more like his boy-self than he had in ages as he dragged one of his legs so his knee was raised, his hand resting on top to act as a cushion for his chin. All he needed was a stick to draw runes in the sand with and this would be reminiscent of every night he camped under the stars with Elminster and Madi in his childhood.

He only needed, desperately, one piece to make the image complete.

Someone he expected to never see again.

“You don’t get to my age without understanding a little,” Elminster grumbled, offended at Gale’s claim before humming and straining his voice in contemplation before continuing with his point. “It is not I who you need to discuss these things with Gale, and we both know this.”

“I can hardly talk to someone who silenced my very words.” Gale retorted, still stuck in his misery and defeat. Silence lingered between the men, the light cracking of wood mixed with the rustling of leaves as Elminster hummed over Gale’s response and attitude. None of this did anything to settle Gale’s temperament.

“I know she will not appreciate me sharing, but I hardly see how I cannot,” Elminster stated, harshly clearing his throat, and handing Gale a small piece of parchment before continuing. “Here is a spell, crafted by Addy and I for the time she was searching for you in the Under Dark and out of reach of my sending spell—”

“She went to the Under Dark?” Gale asked, his curiosity overpowering his anger and discontent as he unfolded the parchment to read an incantation meant for one to visit another in their dreams.

“She thought you were going to…well—”

“Blow myself up?” Gale concluded, feeling guilty that it was the very thing he had intended to do if he wasn’t able to keep the orb stabilized. Further guilt was added with the realization of how well Madi really knew him, recognizing the connection he had brutishly squandered.

“Well…yes, but she had travelled there prior to you leaving your tower as well, Gale. It’s where she made some very short-sighted promises that she cannot walk away from. It is best,” Elminster quickly continued, seeing Gale open his lips to ask a question he could not answer, “that you ask her what was done, but I would warn you with being so quick to judgment and anger, my boy, for if you look closely enough you will see she has only done what you did for another.”

Elminster dipped his head to look at Gale directly, knowingly, with a peaked brow to emphasize the obvious, and truthful, point he was making.

“The question is then: Will you also cast her aside, as was done to you, for this folly of hers?”

~X~

It had been three days and the bloody spell hadn’t worked. Three days!

Every night Gale would cast it and sit in a meditative state, or mindlessly pace as his anxiety rose, as he waited to enter Madison’s dream. He knew he cast the spell correctly, spoke the words the right way, there was no doubt about that—so why wasn’t it working?!

It didn’t help his growing frustrations that he hadn’t slept for three days either, his companion's constant nagging for him to rest starting to piss him off to no end.

“We could really use a fireball right about now!” Astarion called out while they faced off against some spider monstrosity of a man. Gale just glowered at him, annoyed that Astarion chose right now to pester him about not regaining his more potent spells from resting, ensuring to cast Fire Bolt to prove a point. Astarion just groaned before cloaking himself in shadow and reappearing elsewhere to shoot a goblin dead.

The height of Gale’s frustration came from watching all of his companions huddled by Shadowheart’s tent, whispering together while Karlach flashed worried and determined glances toward Gale—something was coming his way. He peered at the parchment resting on the ground in front of him, feeling miserable in this sudden sea of loneliness he found himself in. Not only had he been chasing to speak with Madi to no avail, but he had also felt the absence of Mystra since the day he attempted to reach out to Madi and he didn’t entirely understand why.

Yes, she was there for every spell cast. Still, it was minimal, never a lingering touch or caress as she would have before…and it pained him, angered him even, that she would be so spiteful towards him so shortly after having ordered him to blow himself up to gain her forgiveness.

He cast the spell once more, paying attention for Mystra’s presence yet it was so faint and fleeting that he almost missed it.

“Curse you…” Gale muttered through gritted teeth and clenched fists—was she really taunting him with his unworthiness right this moment? Was she the thing stopping this spell from working? Or was he just that inept without her favour?

“Look, Gale...” Tav broke Gale’s fixation on his misery to look up and realize all of his companions had walked up to him, Tav leading the pack holding a wooden club. “It’s for the best, okay?” Tav moved before Gale’s sleep-deprived mind could catch up, a swift swing to the head and he was out cold—finally asleep.

~X~

“About time!” Madi called out to Gale as they stood in the open glade of her dream state. “It’s like you don’t sleep or something.”

“What?” Gale muttered as he slowly became present, absently rubbing his head expecting it to be sore or bruised, even bleeding, yet it was nothing but his curled hair. Only a short moment until his eyes went wide as they fell to Madi and he lurched up to his feet. “It worked?!” He exclaimed, giddy as a schoolboy.

Madi laughed, watching him with amusement and disbelief as she realized he never went to sleep after casting the spell each night, which is why she felt his calling to meet but he never arrived—but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him of his mistake, not wishing to bruise his fragile ego or wanting to start the conversation on the wrong foot.

“I guess Elminster gave you the spell?” Madi softly inquired, staying still where she stood while watching Gale take in his surroundings.

“I feel like I have been here before.” He muttered, no longer paying attention to anything other than his racing mind as he tried to recall what was familiar about the fabricated space they stood. In truth he had been here before, it was a glade within a forest they frequented with Elminster when going on ‘field studies’. It had been the place where Madi had felt most at peace, and where she had grown to fall in love with Gale.

"It's a dream, Gale—none of this has a purpose.” She lied, a pain of guilt striking her chest as she watched Gale quickly accept her words as fact.

“It doesn’t matter.” He told her with a smile. “I’m just happy to be able to speak with you.” Madi knew her anxiousness at the prospect of what he wanted to speak of was visible in her reaction to his words, Gale immediately hesitating his step towards her. “That is…if you wish to speak.” He corrected with a small laugh. “For all I know, you only came here to tell me off. Rightfully so…” he muttered at the end, casting his gaze down to the luscious green grass beneath his feet.

“It would feel unfair to turn you away after such dedication to reach me.” Madi kindly offered, giving way to the softer part of her heart and mind, pushing away the fear that Gale would abandon her. He just scoffed at her words.

“Three days hardly compares.” He clarified, his expression immediately wracked with guilt and before Madi could tell him to stop he launched into everything he had been stirring over. “I am so sorry Madi, I never should have done anything that I did when you—” Gale stopped speaking as if silenced by a spell as he reached to stand in front of her, his arms outstretched to hover beside her arms, his eyes wide with grief and regret, his mouth open in shock.

“I was selfish for longer than I should have been, more foolish than I ever thought myself capable, to not see you.” He confessed, one of his hovered hands raising to cup Madi’s tear-stained cheek. “I hardly feel worthy of it, your feelings for me, past or present—if still standing, that is—but I want to be, and whatever mess you got yourself into—”

Madi huffed a laugh, breaking her silence at how understated the word ‘mess’ described her situation. Something Gale seemed to catch onto as he pulled at her face until she looked directly at his large, desperate, eyes.

“I love you Madi, for longer than I ever realized, and I refuse to lose you now. We will figure it out—I promise.” This would have been the perfect moment to kiss him, to laugh and smile in joy, if it weren’t for the fact that Madi burst into tears and crumpled against Gale’s chest. He held her tightly as she wailed against him, Gale feeling his robes becoming damp, feeling her muscles tremble and shake when her voice failed her, finding himself unable to do anything else than continuously whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

It was hard to tell how long they stood there, Gale holding Madi with the intensity only a lover could hold one with, but they remained like that until her tears stopped and her eyes dried.

“I, uh…I think I am waking up.” She managed to mutter, still tightly gripping onto Gale’s robes. “I don’t want to go.” She meekly added, her fingers curling into tighter fists.

“May I visit you tomorrow night?” Gale softly asked, Madi simply nodding against his chest.

“Just make sure to fall asleep this time, silly.” She teased him through a sniffle, finally pulling away to look at him through puffed eyes. He smiled at her, soft and sweet, as he brushed a hand against her cheek before cradling it.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He told her, hesitating for a moment before slowly leaning towards her but before their lips could connect, his eyes opened to look at the ceiling of his tent, letting out a long sigh yet finding himself feeling less burdened than before he was knocked unconscious by his friends.

A smile slowly spread across Gale’s lips as he thought of what tomorrow night could bring him.

~X~

“Do you understand the meaning of the word ‘irony’, Gale?” Astarion dryly asked a question everyone knew the answer to. “Because you’re doing it right now!” He wined, Gale’s head twisting in confusion.

“I’m doing irony? My, Astarion, for being as old as you are I would expect you to hold a basic understanding of the common tongue.” Gale chuckled, feeling himself in a much brighter mood than the past days he went sleepless, however, his companions weren’t quick to forget his refusal to sleep now that he was constantly asking them when they would take a break for the day.

“Let’s just put him to sleep already!” Astarion groaned to Tav, whose fingers already danced with pink light. “He’s becoming insufferable again and I hate it.” He continued but Gale only smiled and opened his arms wide.

“So long as you promise not to leave me laying out here in these cursed lands, I will gladly accept the assistance,” Gale advised, gleeful at the idea of being back with Madi. Even if she would not be asleep for some time, he would at least be waiting for her in a place where time would move quicker and he would be without this bickering.

“We’ll at least drag you out of the curse before dumping your body somewhere.” Tav encouraged with a toothy smile, Astarion belly laughing behind them.

“Reassuring, thank you.” Gale groaned, crossing his arms as he looked at the two chaotic lovers in front of him before turning to Karlach and Wyll who gave Gale a reassuring nod.

“Now that I won’t burn you to a crisp, I gotcha!” Karlach enthusiastically gave Gale a thumbs up to seal her promise to him.

“Let’s just…finish the task at hand then,” Gale concluded as he felt uneasy about trusting Karlach’s ability to embrace and hold another person without injuring them—not that she wasn’t trustworthy but rather the machine that was slowly killing her in her chest was untrustworthy, and Gale knew better than most to trust any unstable thing lodged in one's chest.

Astarion was the only one to dramatically groan at the change of action and Gale knew to just let him have his moment. Instead, he focused on the other matter that called his attention the moment he joked about not being left in it—the Shadow Curse.

The moment he stepped foot in these lands, his nose burnt from the smell of the magic that lingered and shaped their surroundings. At first, it felt threatening, and hungry, and how everyone else except Shadowheart described it: like invisible tendrils reaching out to grasp at you and drag you away. And it had continued to feel as such except for today—today was different.

He did not feel threatened or sense its hunger, nor did it try to grasp at him, yet he was still uncertain of what it was doing if it was doing anything at all. It was that thought that had Gale truly wonder if he was feeling the absence of the curse instead of an embrace or protection from it.

No matter what, it was strange, and Gale had no idea why it was happening. He only hoped it wasn’t because he fell from Mystra’s Grace that Shar’s magic now embraced him.

Shadow Weave. Gale thought to himself, his mind racing so fast he stopped in his tracks, his eyes fixated on an obsolete pebble on the path they walked as he leapt down a rabbit hole of thoughts that started with him recalling Madi’s confession, reliving the guilt of his reaction, jumping to last night and the happiness he felt, them reconnecting, and now the change in how the curse, powered by the same magic Madi called upon, reacted to him.

But…surely Madi did not have such powers or sway—this curse was old and powerful beyond even Gale’s comprehension or ability to cast; even at his prime. And for all of Madi’s magical prowess, she never bested Gale’s talents, so it was a preposterous notion…surely.

“Let’s keep it moving, soldier.” Karlach’s voice came from behind Gale who was then suddenly bear-hugged by large tiefling arms and lifted right off the ground. “We’re almost back at the inn, then you can have your little nap.” She told him, speaking to him like one would a baby.

“I am not a child!” Gale protested, pointlessly struggling against Karlach, who had more than double his strength.

“Says the man being carried by a tiefling that calls herself ‘Mama K’, ha!” Astarion chimed from the front, flashing a toothy and sarcastic grin at Gale, who just glowered as he fell limp within Karlach’s grip, surrendering himself to the moment. Instead, he took the moment to search within himself for a place of inner peace until they arrived back at the Last Light Inn.

“You put me down before the bridge,” Gale grumbled to Karlach.

“You got it, boss!”

~X~

Even though it was barely past supper, Gale could find no reason he wished to remain awake and promptly snuck away to where the party was to sleep, quickly taking a potion to ensure he found slumber quickly while placing a note along with a potion to wake him, should there be trouble, on the nightstand next to him.

Slowly Gale settled into bed with a deep sigh, feeling a mixture of excitement and longing for what was to come once his eyes fell shut. Something that, thankfully, arrived quickly.

“Eager to return, I see.” Madi greeted him with a playful tease, Gale waking to the sound with a weightless smile, wondering if he had ever heard anything sweeter.

“Truthfully, I wished to sleep the moment I woke but I also didn’t want to look completely desperate.” Gale laughed as he turned to look at Madi who was already a foot away from him, her inviting lips parted into a perfect smile, her eyes dancing with anticipation and desire.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit of desperation from you,” Madi whispered to him as she found her way between his arms, her own sliding around Gale to hold him tightly.

“Oh, well…in that caseI have plenty, I assure you,” Gale announced all too enthusiastically, hesitating as he questioned if he should correct himself before he felt Madi lightly shake with a chuckle, his body immediately relaxing into equally embracing her. Once again the two of them stood in silence, holding the other and even though they may not physically be in the other's presence, it still felt real.

Gale was quickly reminded of what he had attempted to do the night before they were disconnected, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat forming at the idea of gathering the nerves to attempt it again, questioning if he should wait, or ask first, or if Madi even wanted such a thing. Surely she did by the way she held him and watched him with her beautiful and inviting expression.

Madi laughed, breaking Gale’s train of thought.

“How long are you going to think about kissing me before you actually do?” She teased him and Gale responded immediately by throwing all hesitations aside and diving into every desire he held for her. Tight was the grip his arms pinched her body with, a hand snatched to the back of her head, pressing her lips to his in such a heavenly moment Gale forgot it was in a dream.

Madi, with her own dire desires, did not need Gale’s encouragement or guidance as her tongue slipped between his lips, a soft moan escaping along with the motion that curled Gale’s insides into knots that would take a lifetime to untangle. It felt intoxicating to hold her, to feel her lips against his, more than any spell he had ever cast, more than any time in the Astral Plane—which was something far greater to contemplate than he could allow at this moment.

Something he very well intended to do, mind you…just not right now. Not while he held every object of his desires, not while he kissed her and soaked into her vast well of love.

Gale had never felt more lonesome than when her lips parted his.

“Did you mean it?” She asked him, her warm breath against his face as she asked him the vague question yet he immediately knew the subject of which she spoke of.

“I have been foolish in many ways, but never so foolish as to throw the l-word around without intention,” Gale informed her but he saw the flicker of doubt flash across her eyes. “I promise.” He pleaded with her, his visible and audible desperation making them both smile.

“I believe you now.” Madi half-heartedly teased but she wasn’t able to truly hide the lingering worry she felt.

“I want you to know that you could tell me anything. I promise not to react like the pompous idiot I was the last last time we spoke.” Madi chuckled, a brightness returning to her smile for a short moment before it faltered.

“Did…did Elminster tell you how this all came about?” Gale could sense her hesitation before she even pulled away from him, sitting down on the pillowy grass that covered the open glade. Gale took a deep breath before sitting next to her.

“No,” he paused, “I think he felt guilty enough giving me this incantation…besides, he said it was best I speak to you about it all.” Madi dipped her head at Gale’s words, her face twisting into an unreadable amusement.

“I betrayed him in worse ways, he could have told you the entire truth and I wouldn’t have held it against him.” He confessed after a breathy laugh.

“Will you tell me the whole truth?” Gale was quick to ask, immediately wanting to know what she was dealing with, wanting to begin devising a way to get her out of whatever and whoever she had promised, while also aware it was unfair of him to ask of such a confession. He was mostly aware of this fact when Madi hesitated before responding.

“Not yet.” She finally confessed. “I’m sorry,” she softly whispered, sorrow painted across her features, “I need you to wait a bit longer, but I am here in these lands Gale, and until we can be together in the flesh, it is not safe for me to speak of it.”

Gale leaned towards her the moment her face turned to look at him and he could see the tears welling in her eyes, immediately becoming weak and unable to resist the overwhelming desire to comfort her. Once again he embraced her, this time on his knees hunched over her as if to shield her from a world of pain.

Only when she seemed to settle did he pull away.

“I will not abandon you,” Gale promised her in all the seriousness he could muster. “I will find you and we will settle this,” he continued as he looked desperately at Madi, her eyes welling with tears once again as she listened to his words, “I will protect you and I will save you, I swear it!”

Gale watched as Madi smiled at his words, the tears falling fiercer than before, but the thing he noticed most was how she didn’t react, didn’t respond, to his promises. She nodded and smiled to appease Gale, but he could tell, to his deep horror and grief, that she didn’t believe a lick of it possible.

Tag list: @fangbangerghoul, @bearlytolerant, @endersnailz ♥ Hope you all enjoy!