#so more effort than I’m willing to give but not impossible

[milkymosaic]

My icon on here is a rabbit vomiting hearts and is my gemsona on most other platforms, so, non-human option.

feel free to elaborate in tags of course on how easy or hard cosplaying them would be

bonus question: how much do you WANT to look like your icon. like are they the goal you aspire to

[obxsummer]

i still need you // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: late night conversations turn ugly, jj sets off on an adventure with his dad, and an SOS text leads to a life stopping moment for john b.

warnings: nothing you haven’t seen in obx before

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

--

JJ Maybank loved you. 

If everything else in the world was suddenly a lie, that statement would remain true. JJ Maybank loved you so much, he swore it was the only thing he was good at. 

He never realized how valuable it was to have someone so in tune with his every motion, his every thought and reaction. You were always there no matter what was going on, and you always knew how to handle it.

He was trying. He was trying really hard to give you that same effort, that same love and attention you gave him every time, but he had to admit that he was struggling. What was supposed to be a simple trip to the bathroom was slowly turning into the worst conversation of his life, and as he watched your walls crash in front of him, he didn’t know what to do.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question had you flying out of the hammock and back into the bedroom before you could even get a word out. JJ was standing in the bathroom doorway, Sarah’s capped pregnancy test in his hand. Your heart fell to your ass and you just stared at him.

“Babe?”

You shook your head, tears forming faster than you wished when you realized you’d been so unfair to him. “JJ, I gotta talk to you.”

“Are you pregnant?” He repeated the question much quieter, his tone still soft and careful as he approached. 

You shook your head again. “No. It’s not mine.”

JJ nodded, his gaze dropping to the two lines on the test as he stared at it. “Then…?”

“Sarah’s.”

There was a sense of relief that overtook him, but part of him was also sad. Starting a family with you is something JJ had been hesitant about, especially with his own paternal history. He didn’t know if he could fix the curse of his dad’s behavior. Both of his so called fathers' behavior, actually. 

“Would… Would you-”

“I can’t have kids.”

JJ blinked and looked up at you. “Huh?”

You crossed your arms over your chest protectively. “Because of everything… with- with Rafe. They said there’s…it’s not impossible but it’s extremely high risk and unlikely.” 

When he was silent, you knew this was a dealbreaker. You should’ve told him, given him a chance to run before he put a ring on your finger and gave all this effort to you.

“I know I should’ve told you, so if…if you want this back, it’s okay. I don’t blame you if you wanna act like this never happened, but I’m sorry and-”

“Shut up.” The command sent you silent as you stopped pulling the ring from your finger, eyes going wide in shock. JJ shook his head in disbelief and you were somehow so terrified of what he was going to say. This could very well be the end of everything you’d been through all because you couldn’t be honest with him. 

“You… you think I would leave you? Over this?” JJ’s emotions were getting the best of him now and he couldn’t pull his gaze from your teary one. “I have your initials inked into my skin. Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrugged. “I’m not… I’m just giving you an out. Incase you want it.”

“Why would I ever want that?” He was much louder now and you almost took a step back before reminding yourself that this was JJ, your JJ. “Why would I ever leave you over something you can’t control? Sweetheart, I love you more than anything. If you wanted kids, fine, we would have them. But if you didn’t, or you couldn’t, that’s okay. I’m not willing to risk losing you over some annoying ass toddler that messes up all my shit for a handful of years.”

He pointed the small pink stick in your direction, his own eyes wet as his frustration carried into his tone. You knew it wasn’t directed at your actions, rather the way your head had been handling everything, but it still felt weird. “Don’t you ever, and I mean ever hide something like this from me just because your head is telling you, I don’t want you. Because-”

The door slammed open at the worst opportunity possible, both you and JJ turning to see Sarah and John B looking back. You gasped at them, knowing everything probably looked and sounded so wrong. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s mine!” Sarah practically yelled, running forward to grab the test from JJ’s hand as she stood in front of him at her full height. “It’s mine, okay? And drop the fucking tone with her, JJ. You have no idea what she’s been through and-”

“Hey, it’s-” John B held a hand in front of you when you went to intercept Sarah. JJ’s eyes were wide at the words coming out of the girl’s mouth but he didn’t argue back with her. 

“Sarah, he didn’t-” 

She turned to hold a finger to you before continuing to lay into JJ. “If you so much as think about saying another nasty word to her, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep. I swear to God, JJ, you have-”

“He wasn’t doing anything!” You blurted out when her threat became a little too realistic for your liking. “We were talking, okay and-”

“He was yelling-”

“Because I was being selfish!” You snapped at John B, frustration and emotion boiling over. “I should’ve told him everything a while ago, and I didn’t. This is on me, okay? Leave him alone.”

Three sets of eyes watched you carefully as you laid the most vulnerable pieces of you out for them to see. 

“It’s my fault,” You nearly broke there, a breathy hiccup escaping as you tried to keep it calm. “I don’t want the pity. I don’t need it. I should’ve fought back against him, tried to defend myself more but I-”

John B shook his head, his voice breaking as he whispered your name. 

You ignored him and looked straight at JJ. “He ruined the best thing I could ever give you. You deserved the chance to correct all the things your dad did to you, the things he put you through. All I wanted was to give you everything you never had, to be everything you never had because you deserve that and so much more. And I let Rafe Cameron of all people ruin me… I’m ruined for you.”

You felt like you were witnessing a slow motion car crash. All of your nightmares had consisted of one thing: losing. Losing JJ, losing your friends, losing yourself. You felt like it was coming to life in front of you.

“I can’t do this.”

Stabbing you in the heart would’ve hurt less than JJ’s statement, but you had to accept it. You gave him an out and he was taking it. Part of you wanted him to blame you because it would at least give you some confirmation on what he was thinking. All you could do was nod and look at the floor. You’d finally done it, you’d manage to push away the one person who knew you inside and out and you only had yourself to blame.

“I can’t sit here and let you think a single word of that is true.” JJ pulled at his hair. God, you looked so broken in front of him and he couldn’t believe this whole night was turning in this direction. He crossed the room to hold your face in his hands, heart breaking at the tears on your cheeks and the way you shivered from his touch.  “I’ve told you time and time again that you’re everything to me. I don’t give a flying fuck if you walked out of that whole nightmare with one eyeball and four fingers on one hand. You walked out and you’re still here. That’s what matters. You are and you will continue to be my entire world. I told you tonight, and I will continue to tell you every single day if that’s what you need.” 

“And you’re the furthest thing from ruined.” Sarah reminded you that she was in the room, John B crying behind her as they watched the scene from a small distance. “God, you’re literally perfect. A great boyfriend, a great brother, amazing friends. You’re so kind and selfless, and you’re so dedicated to each and every one of us in ways that nobody else is. I give you one look and you’re already on the same wavelength as me without a word. I’m not going to stand here and watch the future godmother and favorite aunt of my child think so negatively about herself when she is easily one of the best things in each of our lives.”

JJ was there to catch you when you sobbed, your whole body nearly collapsing in relief that he knew everything now, that you weren’t carrying what felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

“I suck at sappy shit, everyone c’mere.” John B managed to pull a laugh out of the group, the four of you hugging each other tightly in the middle of your bedroom like the world around didn’t exist. Sarah, John B, and JJ had seen the worst pieces of you and still loved you unconditionally. It was time to get out of your head and embrace it, no matter how much you wanted to hide away. 

“Now that that’s over with… you’re fucking pregnant?!”

--

The chaos of the night finally settled down enough after JJ expressed his excitement for John B and Sarah. He didn’t hesitate to guide you to bed shortly after, mumble apologies being shared that tonight didn’t go differently, but you reassured him you had forever to celebrate it. Sarah eventually curled up next to you, the two of you in a fitful sleep for as long as you could while the boys stayed up to keep an eye on Groff.

Sarah was scrolling on her phone when you woke up a few hours later. She looked over her case to smile at you as you groaned loudly and stretched. 

“Are you and John B actually going to apply for a marriage license?” Your voice was raspy as you spoke, your eyes meeting hers as you shifted on your side to look at her.

She dropped her phone to the comforter. “I think so, unless he changed his mind from yesterday. That was the plan.”

You nodded, a small smile growing on your face. “Are you nervous?”

Sarah let out a breathy laugh. “Hardly. I just can’t believe all the shit that happened in the last 24 hours.”

The two of you conversed for a few moments longer before climbing out of bed to get ready for the day. While Sarah busied herself finding a cute white dress (one of her own, this time), you quickly changed and did your morning routine before settling in to help her curl her hair.

“Ready?” You asked as she slipped her shoes on and turned off the light. She nodded, grabbing your hand to pull you down the stairs. Cleo was eating a sandwich in the kitchen and looked up as you entered.

“Don’t tell me I’m losing another one today?” Her eyebrow raised in curiosity as Sarah practically skipped outside.

“We have to share the same last name for a little bit, right?” You winked in her direction, the pieces falling together before she shook her head jokingly.

JJ, Pope, and John B were already outside, apparently packing the Twinkie to head to Larissa’s grave with Groff. Your brother was literally pacing a path into the grass, his head snapping up as Sarah stepped off the porch with a tiny squeal.

“Let’s make this quick,” JJ was oblivious to the couple next to you and rubbed at his face to wake himself up. 

You hid your smile behind your hand as John B and Sarah stared at each other for a moment, both of them red in the face as she finally reached your brother’s side.

“Hey, we’re gonna get out of your hair, actually,” John B’s voice was so absentminded as he kept his eyes on Sarah, completely disregarding JJ’s confused look. He pointed in your general direction as he took her hand. “Love you, see you in a few. Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shifted into your fiancé’s shoulder, his arm falling around you as he took in the duo for the first time this morning. Pope gave you a confused glance to which you just held up your left hand and pointed to the ring on your finger. He nodded, much easier to communicate wordlessly with than JJ would be. 

“I, uh, okay?” JJ’s confusion made you laugh as Sarah and John B disappeared around the side of the house without a word, small talk being shared between the two of them as they made their way down the dock. He turned to look at you and clocked the smile on your face. “Something to share with the class?”

You shook your head, pushing up on your toes to kiss him. “Not in the slightest. You ready to go?”

JJ glanced between the Twinkie and the porch where Groff was getting to his feet. “How about you stay here with the girls and Pope? I… this is my mom. I feel like it should be personal, you know?”

You glared at him. “What did John B say?”

The way he took a step back already told you the answer. “No, nothing. Nothing, I just think I should give this a shot, on my own, you know?”

“JJ, I swear-”

He grabbed your shoulders carefully. “I love you. And if shit goes south, I can’t risk having you in danger with me not being able to help. So, please. Stay here, with them, and I’ll be back. Okay?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” You admitted quietly, your hand grabbing on his wrist. You weren’t so convinced by his reasoning and with Groff giving you weird vibes, you really didn’t like this idea. “Be careful? I know he’s supposedly your dad and all but…”

JJ nodded in understanding, his eyes catching on someone behind you. “Told you I’ll always come home to you, and I mean it. Love you, sweet girl.”

He kissed you softly, hand slipping from your shoulder to hold your neck gently. You hummed in satisfaction, your fingers grabbing his flannel to pull him slightly closer. 

“Alright, lovebirds.” Groff’s voice ruined your goodbye as he stopped next to you. Pulling away from JJ, you gave the man a sharp glare, unamused by his comments and whatever assumed power he thought he had over JJ. 

Rolling your eyes, you gave JJ one more kiss. “Love you, please be careful.” 

You stepped away from him to head back inside, but an unfamiliar hand landed on your shoulder, stopping your retreat. You turned back to Groff, looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and removed his hand, pointing down at the ring on your finger. “I…um. I always wanted a daughter, Larissa did too. I’m glad you’ll be joining our family one day.”

The disgust on your face was very evident as you stared back at him, forcing a nod. “Yeah, considering you gave away your own son, I’m finding that hard to believe.”

Groff gave you a short nod before turning to climb into the Twinkie’s passenger seat as JJ slammed the door of the driver’s side. You shook your head as the van started and drove away, the sinking feeling in your stomach building with each passing moment. 

“You feel the same way I do about this?” Pope asked as he joined your side, the two of you watching the van disappear out on the road.

You sighed, “We shouldn’t have let him go alone. That man is the biggest manipulator if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“Now all we can do is wait and hope he comes back, preferably without that pathetic excuse for a man.”

--

While JJ busied himself adventuring with his dad, Pope and Cleo went out to grab gas for the boats with the remainder of the five grand down payment Wes Genrette had given. You and Kiara busied yourselves trying to get some items together for the potential trip to Morocco (if it happened) but mostly trying to downsize to what could be taken to Ward’s rental condo. The property was left in Sarah’s name, thankfully away from Rose’s evil claws, so your group could try to wiggle in as best as possible, but the three bedroom condo was no match for your family of seven, and soon to be a baby.

“I’m gonna grab supplies and shit from outside,” You said with a huff, brushing the sweat from your forehead. “Be right back.”

Kie was head first in making sandwiches and food to take along, so you dipped out of the room by yourself. The wind was refreshing, blowing across your skin as the two of you headed into the store area to collect your items. 

You grabbed a handful of first aid items, shoving them in your worn backpack with as much organization as you could muster. 

Humming along to the music on your phone, you moved fluidly to grab random supplies from the walls, figuring the store wouldn’t need them much anyway considering the property wasn’t yours soon.

Something moved in your peripheral and you turned to see the Twinkie parked outside again. A small frown formed on your face; you didn’t think JJ and Groff would be back that quick. Walking out, you glanced to catch sight of the blond boy but came up short. 

“Babe?” You called out, heading toward the driver side in case they were still talking inside. Except, they weren’t. Nobody was inside, actually. “JJ?”

You spun on your heels in hopes of him popping out, but still no sight of him. Setting your course to the house in hopes that he’d be there instead, you were met with Chandler Groff popping out of the side door in what looked like a hurry.

Stopping, you crossed your arms and glared at him. “Can I help you?”

He had the tube containing the scroll in his hand, and motioned toward it. “Uh, hi. I uh, I just came to grab the scroll to make sure it’s not just the artifact from the mausoleum.”

His rushed tone told you there was more to the story but you nodded. “Mhmm, um. Where’s JJ?”

“Oh, he stayed behind at the family plot. He sent me to retrieve this. I thought I’d give him some time alone, you know?” He took a few steps toward you, that you immediately repeated in the opposite direction to put some distance back. Any further and you’d be against the Twinkie and out of options.

You dug your fingers into your arm. “He certainly got his lying skills from Luke because I don’t believe you in the slightest.”

Groff laughed but you could tell it was forced. “Well, you hardly know me, of course you aren’t going to believe me. You can ask your friend in there… uh Kiara is it? She seemed fine with the idea.”

“Oh so you won’t mind if I just call him, then?” You reached into your pocket where your phone was still playing music.

“Yeah, yeah you should. You should call him. He’ll confirm. Go ahead.”

Your back hit the metal of the van as Groff continued to push into your space. You glanced down, swiping for the FaceID to activate and unlock before completely bypassing checking JJ’s location and instead pressing the lock buttom twice. Times like these you really thanked Sarah for helping you set up the shortcuts she did.

All it took was that one split second before Groff’s hands were shoving you and your head collided with the window of the Twinkie, glass shattering from the impact. Your phone slipped from your hands and you gasped, knees giving out as you grabbed your head in pain.

“Kie!” The scream tore through your throat but was cut off as Groff grabbed your throat and yanked you off the ground. 

Panic set in instantly, all of your senses blurring as images of Rafe flashed in front of you. You struggled to get air in your lungs and gasped, hands shoving and feet kicking like it would do you any good.

One last hit to your head, and the sweet dark relief took over.

Then silence.

--

You weren’t sure if you were awake.

There had been moments like this in the past when you were at the Camerons’, so blissed and drugged out that you couldn’t tell the difference from reality or hallucinations. Like a sensory tank, there was no light or noise. Just you and your racing thoughts and the loud thump of your heart in your ears.

Here you were, all over again. No sense of where you were, what had happened, or who was around. You could barely breathe and the hefty duct tape on your mouth stole your inability to speak. The sharp bite of pain when you tried to move was thanks to zip ties that were too tight, and you realized how utterly stuck you were.

The tears came first, followed by the hyperventilating. You tried running through the methods they taught you in therapy, the counting, the timed breathing. JJ’s voice was echoing in your head to keep your airways open and not clench your hands but JJ wasn’t here, you couldn’t move, and one of your main airways was not an option.

An attempted cry left your body, but you doubted anyone could hear it. It was so muffled and quiet that it might as well have been a whisper in a concert arena. 

You were going to die. You were going to die here, alone, with nothing but the thoughts in your head to keep you company. You hoped Kiara was okay. Hoped that none of your friends would be the ones to find you, if they even could. 

The tears were unstoppable now, small sobs escaping as you tried to pull air in your lungs but it was getting harder. It felt like someone’s hand squeezing around your throat.

Tighter, tighter, tighter.

Gone.

--

Kiara was a stranger to what it felt like being knocked unconscious. Hell, the closest she’s ever gotten was because of Pope nearly concussing her with an ore a couple of weeks ago. It was never from being punched in the head and colliding with the table.

The headache was killer, enough to send her vision swaying but she forced herself to her feet. “Ah, fuck.” Her fingers poked the area where the pain was radiating, but no blood came back so she considered that a good sign. 

“Kie!” 

John B’s scream was not a good one, and it was enough to get her moving out of the house to see him sprinting across the yard with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah close behind. 

“What’s happening?” Her voice was much quieter than she expected as the all moved toward her. Pope’s hands were gentle as they hovered her face, taking in the bruising on her cheek.

“What happened to you?” Cleo asked, wincing at the injury.

Kiara shook her head, “I can’t… just give me a second.”

“Where is she?” John B asked, eyes scanning the entire ground. He was on the verge of screaming or crying, or shit maybe he needed to throw up. “The SOS text came from her phone, fro-from the shortcut, where is she?”

“John B!” Sarah picked up the device in question that was resting in the grass near the van, the music still playing from it loud enough that she could hear.

The sight of your case made his heart drop. “Shit, stay here. Check the house,” He directed toward Pope and Cleo, practically sprinting toward Sarah.

“It seems fine,” She commented, “Music still on and everything. Maybe she did it accidentally?”

Except, John B wasn’t looking at the phone in Sarah’s hand. His eyes were locked on the nearly shattered window behind her head, a window that hadn’t been fucked up before. Sarah noticed his silence and looked over her shoulder, the broken glass answer enough that no you didn’t do this accidentally.

John B yelled your name again, nothing following his call, so he took off running into the shop with hopes that maybe you would be there. If Kiara was in the house, chances were, you weren’t.

Except the shop was empty, besides your backpack resting on the counter with various shit scattered around it.

“Is she in here?” Sarah asked as she ran up behind John B, her eyes scanning the room for any sight of you. “John B?”

“What the fuck?” You brother tugged at his hair and moved to where your bag was sitting as he tried to look for any clue, anything, that would tell him where you were. “No, no, no. We can’t do this again. I-I.. I told her I’d never let something like this happen, what if-”

“John B, John B, hey!” Sarah grabbed his face as gently as possibly. “Do not lose your shit. Not right now. She needs you, okay?”

His hands were fucking shaking and suddenly, this was too scary for him. Something had happened, and now you were missing.

“Look, look. I’ll get you a water and we can see if Kie remembers anything okay? It’s probably a miscommunication and-” Sarah turned toward the red Coca-Cola cooler that usually housed the ice for cold drinks and stopped short at the screw driver wrenched between one of the closures. “Did you lock this?”

John B pulled his hand from his face to look at what she was referring to. “What? No, we never…”

Sarah ripped the screwdriver out in a second, flipping the latch to unlock the lid so she could pry it open. “John B!”

The Routledge boy jumped forward to look and nearly threw up his breakfast. “Move, move!”

Reaching down, he grabbed ahold of your unmoving body, your skin so pale and cold that he didn’t know what to do. His knees hit the ground hard as he laid you down, hands moving to shake you. “Wake up, hey. Wake up!”

Sarah called your name, her touch gentle as she pulled the duct tape off your mouth, but you still didn’t move. “John B, she’s not breathing!”

“Pope, help!” 

Like a series of deja vu, John B’s hands went to your chest to push down harshly, the rhythmic movement too familiar for comfort. Sarah had been in this same position under his hands before, a gunshot wound to her hip and barely enough blood to keep her alive. John B never wanted to do this again, and he sure as shit never wanted to do it to you.

“Pinch her nose, and breathe in her mouth,” He gasped out in an attempt to keep the sobs at bay. “Pope!”

Sarah followed the directions, pinching your nose and opening your mouth to push air back into your lungs. She was shaking, barely able to see through her tears. 

A series of footsteps came seconds later, and Pope swore his whole world stopped at the sight ahead of him. You, his practically adopted sister, lying still on the floor as John B attempted CPR. Kiara nearly screamed, and Cleo stood in shock as Pope flung forward to take over the compressions with more confidence and precision.

“Go, again,” He directed to Sarah as John B tumbled back against the counter in shock. Pope started his compressions again, keeping his count outloud. 

Kiara stumbled to your brother’s side, wrapping her arms around him as they stared on, horrified. Cleo moved to grab scissors, her careful movement cutting the zip ties from your ankles as Pope continued to put pressure on your chest.

And then you coughed. 

And Pope fell into a fit of tears. Removing his hands from your chest, he fell back on his ass in what felt like exhaustion. 

“Aye! You okay?” Cleo was trying to keep a level head but the way her heart was pounding against her chest told her otherwise. She’d never been so close to losing someone, not like this. She carefully snipped the remaining ziptie and your hands instantly reached for Sarah, who cried into your hair and helped you sit up.

Despite your wishes, you couldn’t get your voice to work and opted for nodding instead. Your throat ached and your head felt like it was going to shatter into pieces, and you were so, so cold.

“Holy shit,” Pope choked out as he watched you blink and your own chest move air into your body. Your head was reeling at all of their concern and voices so you closed your eyes and continued to focus on just evening out the flow of air. 

John B ripped himself out of Kiara’s arms and next to Sarah the second he got a grasp on what the fuck just happened. “Hey, hi. You’re okay. It’s okay now.”

You reached out to grab John B’s hand, squeezing enough to let him know you could hear him and were responsive. Sarah’s warmth left your side a moment after and John B easily took her place, his arms cradling you against him like you were a small child as he cried into your hair. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you blinked your eyes open to see Pope sitting in front of you with Cleo rubbing his shoulder soothingly, Kie leaning against his side. He quickly brushed the tears from his cheeks but it already told you everything. 

You mouthed a thank you and cuddled in closer to John B’s chest, opting to just breathe breathe breathe.

You weren’t sure what the fuck had just happened, but it seemed like your friends were about to have one crazy ass story to tell. 

-- 

John B did not let you out of his sight. 

After carrying you back to the house and directing Sarah to help you into your warmest sweatshirt and sweatpants, he looked to Kiara for answers.

The girl’s brainfog had thankfully cleared and she was about to recount Groff showing up, claiming he and JJ found the lens and needed the scroll. When Kiara asked where her friend was, Groff knocked her out, which meant her intercepted you next.

Nobody wanted to ask questions, but the SOS text on their phone screens was hard to pull their eyes off of.

When everyone had phones replaced following El Dorado, Sarah had made sure to set up a shortcut that sent an SOS text with a location to the group chat in case of an emergency. She hoped it would never be used, but she was so thankful you thought quick enough to use it in this situation. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if not.

“Here.” She handed you an warm cup of tea with honey in hopes that it would help soothe the soreness in your throat but the handprint outside on your skin told her otherwise. After helping you crawl under the covers, she sent a quick text to John B that you were settled before the group came tumbling in. 

Your brother instantly threw himself next to you near the top of the best, shifting so you could lean against him and he could keep a hand on your arm at all times. Kiara took your other side, sitting crisscross as she held an ice pack to her head. 

“Y’all are dramatic,” Your voice was practically gone as you joked with them before taking another sip of your tea.

“And you sound like you smoke six packs a day,” Cleo chimed back with a teasing smile on her face. “Save your voice, girly. We got you.”

You gave her a weak smile.

The next twenty minutes consisted of everyone sharing what the fuck had happened in the past few hours. Pope and Cleo nearly got wiped out by Kelce which caused them to collide with Sarah and John B who had been running from Topper and Ruthie. Kiara took a gnarly blow to the head like you did, and JJ was still absent from the group.

Splendid. 

“So, what? Groff left with the map and lens and JJ’s still with him?” Pope recounted as he started to pace the floor. 

Your calls to JJ had been ignored and considering he didn’t show up with the SOS text, you were really worried Groff had gotten to him. Your fingers moved across the screen to pull up his location again and you dropped it on the center of the bed so your friends could see his location pinging from the middle of the ocean.

Turning to John B, you tried to communicate with your hands that you all needed to leave, but he was unamused. “No, no. You’re not leaving this room, let alone this house any time soon. You hear me? Grounded.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the comforter to open your notes app and type away. 

Then you guys need to go. If something happens to him and I’m the reason you didn’t go, I’ll never forgive myself. 

You shoved the device in John B’s direction, watching as he skimmed the words before shaking his head slightly. Annoyed by his silence, you moved it over so Sarah could read it instead.

“She’s got a point, John B. We need to go.”

John B took a look around the room, everyone���s expressions matching Sarah’s as they read the message on your phone. He hated this, the thought of pulling you out of a safe space after he just nearly broke your ribs from the force of his own hands because you weren’t breathing.

“Fine, fine,” He admitted defeat when even Cleo nudged her head in the direction of the water. “Go get your shit. I need to talk to this one first.”

Your eyes were going to get stuck in the back of your head if you rolled them again so you just sighed and flopped against the pillows as everyone scattered. Sarah patted your knee through the covers, reassuring she’d grab your backpack and everything before slipping out the door, leaving you with your brother.

You quickly typed on your phone as John B watched you.

I’m not arguing with you via notes app, bro.

He laughed and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Don’t wanna argue. Just um…” He let out a breath, tears filling his eyes faster than he intended. “You really scared me, out there. And I don’t like the idea of you getting thrown back into danger, but the idea of leaving you here is even worse. So I need you… I really need you to promise me something.”

John B shifted to sit where you could see him easier and not strain your neck looking up at him. He grabbed the phone from your hand and let it fall, taking both of your palms into his. “I need you to promise me that you’ll stick with Sarah. And you won’t go throwing yourself in front of anyone if it comes to it. You… you both mean way too much for me to lose you to a stupid fucking treasure hunt. Okay?”

You squeezed his hands and nodded, because it’s really all you could do. So you did.

And now, you needed to find JJ… but nothing was ever that simple for you all, was it?

--

a/n: did i redeem myself??? also john b is not over what just happened and i think another crashout is coming

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[freelancearsonist]

Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile. 

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face. 

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality. 

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

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[scrapsovereign]

(Not kinktober related, but I woke up thinking about this and couldn’t stop thinking about it all day)

Midnight Snack

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC

Words: 490-ish

Rating: Explicit

Tags: NSFW, Astarion Smut, Tav/Reader is not described, Gender Neutral Tav/Reader, breastplay, vampire bites, thigh riding, somniphilia

Triggers/ Author Notes: I tried to make Tav gender neutral for this (I used the word breast, and I did describe the titty in detail if that helps your decision making). This is my first attempt at g/n smut, comments are appreciated and adored, and I’m open to learning!

The first thing you notice as you rouse from your slumber is a cool, pale hand palming at your breast, colored blue in the early morning darkness.

The second is the lukewarm velvet length twitching against your thigh.

Soft lips press a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to the hardened peak of your nipple. A tongue flicks over the nub, and ruby eyes peer up through mussed silver tresses to assess your reaction.

A sharp object grazes against the pebbled bud on your chest and you hiss in reaction to the delicious pain, a shiver of desire rippling across your skin. Half asleep and yet already so willing, you respond by arching your back into his mouth, giving him permission to drink from you.

Teeth that feel like ice shards pierce your skin, puncturing both sides of the areola. He anchors himself at your breast, sucking your nipple inside of his mouth. His tongue undulates against your flesh, encouraging your crimson to trickle down his throat.

Your hand cards through his silver curls, to hold your lover close with tender adoration. A warmth spreads out from your belly knowing that each swallow provides nourishment to his undead body, making him deadlier, faster, stronger.

Excruciating pain has gradually given way to exquisite pleasure, a familiar, delectable pressure starting to build. He whimpers as he squeezes your tits for every last drop of your sanguine nectar, needy and wanting.

His cock glides against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum in its wake. You feel him harden impossibly over you and can only imagine how beautiful the length of him is, dusky and flushed with your blood. His pace falters and his hips stutter, a telltale sign he’s close.

Your center tightens more and more with every movement of his tongue, every lewd slurping noise against your chest.

The pleasure that crests over you is a gentle wave of euphoria, different from the mind-blowing orgasms he repeatedly punished you with hours ago. He reaches his peak at the same time you do with a soft grunt, his eyes fluttering shut. He spills a dribble of his seed on your thigh, smearing the hot trail with lazy thrusts. Cleaning just that spot would be more effort than you’re both willing make right now. You’re especially filthy, your hole still leaking his seed from how he had fucked and filled you to bursting over and over again.

He laves at the wounds he’s created, stopping once or twice from nodding off in the middle of his ministrations. Your wounds clotted, he hums with drowsy satisfaction of a job well done as he clambers atop you. The comfort of his body pressed against yours helps to relax you, soothe you. You sigh contentedly in concert, slipping back into sleep before the neon rays of dawn break over the horizon.

In the morning, you are again roused by his cock, this time with the flushed, warm tip prodding your entrance…

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (10) - Crying Lightning

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 4.6k

-Uninviting, but not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are-

“Are you going to tell me what happened two nights ago?” Wednesday’s question made you lower the book you were reading.

You sighed and got up from your bed. The lights in Wednesday and Enid’s part of the room were already dimmed as Wednesday set up candles and whatever else she needed to hold a séance. “I got attacked,” you knew better than to try and keep silent. Frankly, you were surprised Wednesday didn’t bring it up sooner.

She just turned to look at you, obviously not impressed by your very detailed explanation.

The look in her eyes made you look away as you leaned against the wall in her part of the room. “I went to mayor’s office, I thought I could dig up some information on all of this in the archive. Maybe figure out how all of this connects? Crackstone, the Gates family, that message burned onto the lawn, that monster, it can’t all be a coincidence, and then when I typed in ‘Fire will rain’ I felt that…” you still didn’t know how to describe whatever or whoever you saw.

“The one that attacked you,” Wednesday spoke up, causing you to nod.

“Can’t you give up? I don’t want that to happen to you as well and I’m not dumb enough to think it was an accident,” you finally looked at her again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d let this case go. But she didn’t see that. Those eyes. The chill… it felt as if you were one moment from dying, as if your entire existence was left to the mercy of the one who attacked you.

No. Attack would imply actual effort. You didn’t even see it coming, you were effortlessly, utterly defeated and outclassed in every possible way.

Your dad was stronger than you, faster than you, had better range and control over his lightning. Being a raiju meant you were more dangerous than most outcasts, but as far as other raiju went, you weren’t even average.

You could still follow your dad. You could still understand and somewhat quantify the difference between the two of you.

You couldn’t even comprehend the difference between you and the one who attacked you.

“I’m not going to give up just like that,” yet Wednesday remained stubborn, surely this wasn’t worth losing her life. You should have known her by now.

“Why do you even care about Nevermore in the first place?” you still couldn’t understand why it mattered to her to stop the school’s demise. She hated this place when she came here, saying she was forced to be here, she planned on running away and now she wanted to save it?

Wednesday paused for a moment. “It’s a challenge, I’m not backing away from one. You are free to stop involving yourself with me. In fact, I would prefer it if you did that,” she began lighting the candles and from where you were you couldn’t see her face.

Well, that stung. It stung way more than you were willing to admit to yourself. It wasn’t like you needed Wednesday’s approval, but her all but telling you to leave her alone just like that didn’t leave you entirely unaffected. “Right, I’ll leave you to,” you motioned to the candles and the Ouija board with the name ‘Goody’ written on it. “this,” maybe she just wasn’t in the mood.

Well, if that was what she wanted, maybe you really should give her some space. So, with that in mind, you went outside through the window and zapped to the roof. It was a nice, slightly cold night, with clear skies, meaning there wouldn’t be any storms tonight. Hell, you might even spend the night there.

You didn’t think you were delusional. In fact, you thought you had a fairly acceptable read on people, even ones as closed off as Wednesday. She cared, in her own way, and maybe she only showed it when you couldn’t see it, but she did. She stayed by your side the whole night, and for Wednesday that was huge. And the dance, and letting you keep her knife, and all the other small ways you managed to catch her showing you she cared.

You frowned, glaring at the stars and the Moon. Tomorrow was thirteenth, Wednesday’s birthday, and somehow, something just shifted between you two and there was a rift you weren’t sure how to deal with. Wednesday preferred being alone, sure, and you figured she wasn’t used to caring about people. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but a part of you thought that maybe, just maybe, she was trying to push you away because she wasn’t sure how to deal with those emotions. Or maybe you really were being delusional and were coping with the possibility that Wednesday plain and simple didn’t care and that she found your presence in her life annoying.

But she showed she cared. Thing said she cared!

You couldn’t help but groan, closing your eyes in frustration.

Why was she so complicated?!

~X~

Annoyed.

That’s what Wednesday was right now.

A surprise birthday party? A complete waste of her time, though an impressive subterfuge by whoever came up with this plan. Enid, likely, as others wouldn’t bother with this much planning, and you wouldn’t plan something that involved getting across the lake. Why were all these people here, anyway? They were Enid’s friends, well, most of them, she was sure Xavier was there because he liked her for whatever reason.

Still, she should have realized something wasn’t right when she saw the magazine cutouts used for the message. She didn’t pay enough attention to all the possibilities.

You not being there threw her off. Since it was Cracstone’s crypt going there would mean taking the boat and you wouldn’t approach that much water to save your own life, let alone for a surprise birthday party. So, despite Thing missing and suspicious invitation, she assumed you’d be there as well if her birthday was the reason behind the invitation.

Perhaps that was the logic behind your absence as well. That you being there might tip Wednesday off. Or perhaps she was giving whoever thought of this too much credit and you simply refused to face your greatest fear just to attend a party you probably knew Wednesday would despise.

Either way, her time was wasted, she was pushing you away successfully, and while that should have made her happy it was actually making her feel very irritated, and people she couldn’t care less about expected her to celebrate her birthday with them. If Enid absolutely had to throw her a surprise party, couldn’t she have done it in your own room, with just the four of you there. Wednesday might have even tolerated that enough to cut the cake.

Writing on the crypt caught her attention. “Wait, that’s Latin,” she knelt on one knee to take a better look. “Fire will rain, when I rise,” she translated.

“Okay, that’s not really a wish,” Enid said, but Wednesday was already too focused on the phrase to consider that. Maybe this wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.

“The first part of that was burned onto Nevermore’s lawn, it can’t be a coincidence,” she reached forward, touching the stone with the tips of her fingers and then it happened. The same sensation as her other visions overtook her and she found herself on the ground.

“Crackstone is coming,” she heard as she opened her eyes and realized she was in front of a gate she didn’t recognize.

“Goody,” she recognized the woman behind the gate and now that she wasn’t focused on other things happening in her vision, she realized it was almost like she was looking in a mirror. The only actual difference was the blonde hair. The height, the face, the resemblance was undeniably disturbing.

“You’re the Raven in my bloodline,” she spoke and disappeared. “Wednesday,” she appeared next to Wednesday.

Wednesday turned to her, finally she could ask what she wanted. “I was told you could teach me how to control my ability,” maybe that way she could at least predict when a vision would happen.

“There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning. Time is not on our side,” she turned to the gate. “To stop Crackstone, this place you must seek.”

No teaching then, the dead were as disappointingly insistent on wasting her time as the living. “Do you always speak in riddles?” she questioned, annoyed by the lack of clarity.

“Do you always seek simple answers?” Goody replied immediately.

That irked her, for more than one reason. “Like using a raiju? I won’t do that,”

“You have no time for other solutions. Raiju is your best weapon,” there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation, just because Goody more than likely used her raiju. Not even her mother telling her many believed Goody was in love with him persuaded Wednesday to understand Goody.

She wasn’t in love with you, yet she refused to use you, to put your life in danger. “Y/N isn’t my weapon,” she wasn’t budging on this, she was adamant on standing her ground on this, no matter how unreasonable it would sound to Goody.

“She will be, when you realize this is bigger than one life,” driven mad by her desire for vengeance, Goody couldn’t stop herself, she couldn’t stop even if stopping meant she could keep her raiju by her side.

Wednesday glared, not only did Goody say she couldn’t teach her, but she also spoke as if Wednesday should just throw you into danger and Wednesday wouldn’t do that. No matter what Goody said.

“Do not grow attached to your raiju. The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You end up alone, unable to trust others, only seeing the darkness within them,” Goody warned her.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she could already only see darkness in most people. And being alone was the best outcome for Wednesday. Even if lately, she found herself enjoying your and Enid’s presence, much more than she ever would have guessed she was capable of. The two of you left your marks on her, and she didn’t despise it.

“It should,” she vanished as if she was made of smoke. “Use your raiju,” her last words echoed and Wednesday despised how Goody went from saying ‘a’ raiju to ‘your’ raiju.

~X~

Wednesday’s attempts to push you away seemed to be failing miserably, as you casually approached her first thing in the morning with a long black box in hand.

“Hey, birthday girl,” you offered her a cheeky grin, confidently striding over to her table. At least you didn’t wish her happy birthday or open with the song, though being called ‘birthday girl’ was nearly as bad.

“Don’t call me that,” she warned, causing you to raise your hands in mock surrender.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you set the box on her table and took a step back. “I know things have been a bit, awkward, I guess, between us, but it’s your birthday, so I figured we can set it aside?” maybe she misread your confidence, because now that she properly looked you in the eyes she saw a hint of weakness, an uncertainty you were trying to cover up.

Doubt.

Her attempts were working, it wouldn’t take much longer to break your resolve.

It still didn’t feel as good as she hoped it would.

“Thank you,” she still thanked you as she carefully took the box, feeling the weight in her hands, it wasn’t too heavy, it was definitely lighter than it looked, so likely something that couldn’t be packed in a more convenient package. She glanced at you once more before opening the box. When she saw what was inside it, not even she could hide her surprise.

“I did take one of your own, so I figured this was only fair,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly as she pulled the knife out of the box. It was a work of art, its weight perfect and handle perfect for a firm grip regardless of the intended use of the knife. The sheath was made of leather, light gray with black stripes. Wednesday pulled the knife out of it and slid her fingers across the side of the blade. The pitch-black steel looked sharp and the handle, decorated with light gray stripes, similar to those of a tiger, looked as if it was personalized. Was it one of your own knives? Wednesday knew you had your own collection, because you used them to zap around so you naturally developed an interest in knives, at least that was how you explained it when she asked.

“Was this your own knife?” she asked.

“It felt like the only gift worth giving,” you still wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and you clearly weren’t going to explain any further, so Wednesday didn’t push, at least this time.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, setting the knife next to her typewriter.

You smiled, as if realizing how sincere her gratitude was, and took a couple of steps forward before crouching down and resting your forearms on her table. “Okay, I’m not going to ask you to confirm this, but I’ve been thinking, and I think you are dealing with something in your own way, and I might be wrong, but I feel like I should give you space.”

Somehow Wednesday’s cold dead heart sped up, hammering nails into her chest from the inside so hard she nearly looked down to see if nails were really coming out of her.

“I’ll give you all the space you want, but I’ll be right there,” you pointed your thumb behind you, toward your part of the room. “So, if you need or want me to go somewhere with you, I will,” you paused, or finished, but it sounded like you were just pausing. Still, you got back up so maybe you were done. “Just, if you think it might be dangerous, please let me come with you,” you requested, your gaze so soft Wednesday was now absolutely certain nails were about to pierce through her chest.

She needed to put a stop to this, because she had no control over what was happening between you two and that disturbed her, and not in a good way.

But before she could say anything you continued. “Oh, yeah, uh, I shouldn’t say this, but heads up, Enid’s gift is… something, yeah, let’s go with that,” you chuckled uncomfortably, and that was the only warning Wednesday would get. Granted, it was more than enough for her to mentally prepare, but nothing could have prepared her for what Enid called a snood.

Not even her composure kept her jaw from dropping.

She wondered what kind of threat or blackmail you managed to use to avoid wearing one too, since the blonde werewolf clearly complained about you refusing to wear your own.

~X~

Wednesday Addams was a constant source of worry, and you were just fully realizing that. “Did you just say she was in the back of mayor’s car when he got hit by a car?” you repeated what Enid just told you with your head clutched between your hands. How could one person go through so many things? That would probably remain a mystery to you.

“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed when Wednesday came back, looking like nothing happened. Like there was no need to worry about what she saw. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m perfectly fine, in fact, it was on my bucket list,” of course it was. She met your worried gaze just for a moment and then made her way to her table to, soon enough, start her writing time. You figured you could give her some time, just like how she gave you some time after you were attacked.

You knew it wasn’t entirely fair to make a fuss about Wednesday sneaking out, when you did the same thing. Still, you were a raiju, in theory you could have dealt with almost anything, or at least escaped if needed. Wednesday was, aside from her vision, almost a normie.

So, you decided to give Wednesday a day to process every thought she had regarding what she saw.

You didn’t expect the next time Wednesday would speak to you would be while she was in the bathroom, calling you to come inside. And then, just as you stepped inside, the world went black.

~X~

You woke up to the feeling of excruciating pain as your body instinctively held the lightning in from bursting through. “Damn it, Wednesday!” you yelled, feeling the anger rise as you realized you were tied up in a bathtub filled with water. At least she placed you there in a way that didn’t allow you to drown.

She should have. Because you were going to be beyond angry when you got out. That is if you could. Sure, you could probably damage the ropes, but Thing was right there, guarding you and making sure you weren’t capable of bursting through with lightning. He was too close for a burst of lightning to actually work and set you free without hurting Thing in the process.

“Thing, buddy come on, get away so I can get free,” you pleaded, gritting your teeth as the pain increased. You were submerged up to your chest, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to stay in control over your lightning. If it continued like this you might actually shift right in the bathroom. Thing, however, refused, leaving no space for arguments as he confirmed his loyalties were primarily to Wednesday.

“Wednesday when I see you again,” you didn’t intend to give her space like this! How could she even do this to you?! Knowing full well what leaving you in water would mean for you! Insistent knocking on the window made your eyes widen. Maybe this torture could end.

“Wednesday!” Xavier called out, clearly from within the room. Usually, you’d complain about his nerve, but now you really didn’t care.

“Xavier! Get over here and grab Thing for me!” you yelled back and took a couple of deep breaths to make sure you were still in control over your lightning as he came in with his eyes covered. “You kinda need your eyes, and I have my clothes on, you dumbass,” you rolled your eyes, no longer having patience for any of this.

He opened his eyes and rushed outside the bathroom right away. You were expecting too much. “How did you even end up in that situation?!” he demanded, his voice filled betraying his panic and fear.

“Wednesday happened to me!” you snapped at him, glaring at Thing since he was the next best option with Wednesday gone for now. “Thing probably knows where she is, so go ahead and deal with that, just get him out of the bathroom,” you demanded.

You could hear Xavier taking deep breaths before rushing in and trying to grab Thing. Thing easily dodged him, but Xavier remained persistent and a few minutes later you could set yourself free. Now all that was left was to deal with Wednesday.

Thing gave in and revealed to Xavier Wednesday’s location, and you couldn’t help but glare at Thing. Seriously? Xavier got to know and you didn’t?! “I’m going after Wednesday. Do you want to come with me or-“ he stopped talking the moment he saw your glare. “I guess not. That’s fine! I’ll leave you alone!” he raised his arms, surrendering as he back away as quickly as he possibly could.

Xavier left you alone, knowing better than to stay close to you right now, especially since you were seething. Pushing you away was one thing. This? This was a whole other thing. You nearly tore your clothes off before grabbing a towel to dry off. And then you sat down at your table, your anger not fading even a fraction by the time Enid came back into the room, clearly distraught.

“What happened?” you were honestly surprised with how calm you sounded.

“Wednesday happened! She took me and Tyler to the Gates mansion and the monster was there! We could have died, Y/N! Tyler got hurt! Wednesday doesn’t care, she just wants to solve her mystery!” Enid cried out, and any other time you would have comforted her, you would have tried to calm her down, this time you just left the room, nearly slamming the doors behind you.

~X~

Somehow, Wednesday managed to avoid getting expelled, and she managed to avoid getting Enid and Xavier into trouble. It was a close call, and Tyler could have died, but she was one big step closer to solving this case. That was all that mattered, and she’d figure out how the mansion got cleared of all the evidence so quickly, she just needed to sit and think about it. Just as she was about to head toward her room and leave Weems to keep fuming the principal stopped her.

“Why didn’t you take Y/N?” the question made her freeze for a moment before she turned to look at Weems.

“I just chose not to,” she said, not willing in the slightest to talk about the reasons and emotional turmoil you caused her lately.

Weems studied her, looking like she had something to say, but chose to remain silent and Wednesday took that as a sign of dismissal. So, she walked away, the night was over, shecould go over the positive results tomorrow.

She was naïve to think this night was over.

“Wednesday!” she froze near the top of the stairs. This was the first time she heard you that angry. Thing warned her you would get angry at her over what she did, she just didn’t realize just how angry you’d get. She didn’t see this kind of anger even when you faced Rowan.

Wednesday guessed your eyes were red and she was… wrong. They were flashing between red and orange.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” you stopped right at the top of the stairs as Wednesday climbed up the rest of the way.

“I was making sure you were giving me space,” she wasn’t going to show weakness to you. She wasn’t afraid, but she didn’t feel good either.

You snorted at that, clearly not happy with that response. You turned away from her, perhaps not even able to look at her with how angry you were. “It that how you call it? First you put me through pain and nearly forced me to shift and now you put Enid in danger! Both of you could have died!” you clenched your fists.

“No one died and-“ before she could finish her sentence you spun around and pointed your finger at her, nearly jabbing her in the chest.

“No! This is where you shut it! You’ve seen what that monster did to Rowan, you’ve seen what happened to me, yet you chose to take a normie and a werewolf that can’t wolf out with you to a place that is clearly connected to this entire mystery of yours,” you stopped yelling, but your words were still laced with so much rage you didn’t even need to yell for Wednesday to feel it. “And you might as well be a normie as well, since all you have are those visions. Why am I even trying, you won’t listen to me no matter what I say,” you took a step back, getting closer to the stairs. “You know what? I’m done. You win, Wednesday,” you pulled out the knife she threw at you, the same knife you decided to claim as your own and pushed it toward her. You waited just enough for Wednesday to figure out what you meant and wrap her fingers around the handle. “At least try not to die.”

You turned around, intent on going down the stairs. Against her every instinct, against her dislike for being touched or touching someone, she reached out and grabbed your hand. “Where are you going?” didn’t you hear the rain?

“To my shed,” at least you were still answering her questions even if the way you glared back at her made her uncomfortable.

“It’s raining,” she couldn’t look at you, yet she couldn’t let go of you either.

You pulled your hand away, yanked it out of Wednesday’s hold and for a moment Wednesday dared to think she would have preferred it if you electrocuted her. “Don’t,” you warned and you didn’t need to finish that sentence. She got the message loud and clear, she shouldn’t even think of interfering. Not after what happened tonight.

The words she should have said remained stuck in her throat, as if someone wrapped them in a barbed wire and forced Wednesday to swallow them. “Wait,” it wasn’t enough, you were already halfway down the stairs by the time she managed to force even that one word out.

And it was just the start. Not even ten minutes later she was left entirely alone. After you, Enid left as well, not as angry as you were, but upset nonetheless.

Wednesday couldn’t blame her. She didn’t ask for friends, but Enid became that to her regardless. And you… it felt different with you, it felt different than anything she ever felt before, and it was a powerful feeling she couldn’t even begin to handle.

For the first time in her life being alone didn’t feel so good and Wednesday curled up against the window, right at the middle of it. She shouldn’t feel like she was feeling right now, she should have been fine with this, happy that she got what she wanted, at least with you.

Enid leaving hurt as well, even if the kind of pain wasn’t the same, but that hurt as well. Wednesday realized far too late that somehow, the two of you tore your way into her heart and now your very absence hurt her. Thing came up to her shoulder, offering a comforting pat. Telling her that he was right would have hurt less than his compassion and reassurance that both you and Enid would come back.

Wednesday pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face as she curled up as much as she could. The rain hitting the window, and lightning in the distance made her cover her ears. You were out there in the storm, and it was all her fault. Abruptly, Wednesday got up and went to your part of the room, hoping that some distance from the windows would let her ignore the storm outside.

She wasn’t entirely sure how it got to that point, but in one moment she was standing in front of your bed and then she was taking her boots off, leaving them next to your bed and lying down, not even in her usual position. She just curled up once again and clutched your pillow.

She should have been honest with you, she should have told you about what her mother told her, she should have told you she wanted you to stay. Somehow, she kept doing everything she shouldn’t have with you, or in some way connected with you. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed, but she did it anyway, and she didn’t wake up even when Thing pulled your thin blanket over her.

And there, completely alone yet more surrounded by you than ever before, she remained for the rest of the night, her senses and emotions overwhelmed.

A/N: Four chapters in roughly a week? Honestly, I’m very happy with that. Please tell me what you think about this chapter, I’d really like to know if you think I’m making Wednesday seem OOC? Especially with the last scene.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[qqueenofhades]

I completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable answering this, but my mind is spiraling out of control and you’re the only person I know with the level of knowledge to where I can feel comfortable asking this without getting some form of “bla bla we live in a safe state don’t worry.”

I’m sincerely wondering if I need to be making plans to leave the country in the event of November bringing the most horrible of outcomes despite our best efforts (and yes I’m planning to vote blue in everything I can); as a AFAB in CA?

I know about project 2025. I’m terrified. Forgive my pop culture reference, but I feel like a version of Princess Zelda staring down a barrel of possible doom while everyone around me is like “nah that future you literally had a nightmare about where they made it illegal for a woman to have a bank account without a guy co-signing it and took the money from everyone who didn’t comply by a certain date isn’t even a possibility!”

I’m just confused about my life and am trying to take it day by day, and exercising every right while I still have it to prevent this outcome, but it feels weird making plans and retirement accounts and just general Setting Up Adult Life And Future Things™️……while wondering if I even have a future in this place at all and I’m just making it harder to escape if need be.

I’m sorry I’m rambling, and I guess I don’t know what I’m asking since no one has a crystal ball.

But I guess, it’s stuff like how much can the feds effect state’s policies? Is it possible for them to immediately block international travel for all women practically upon inauguration? How much time would I even have to gtfo if the worst begins?

Bc honestly this whole thing feels like the lead in to a very nasty chapter of a history book, and even though I have hope we’ll have another blue tsunami, it can be hard to try and figure things out when it feels like there’s barely any historical precedent for any of it.

Welp. Okay. First of all, I am giving you a comforting hug, I am walking with you to your favorite coffee shop, I am paying for your favorite beverage and also a baked goodie of your choice, and we are sitting down in a corner where we can talk honestly. So that's where I want you to imagine us having this conversation.

To start with, yes, I completely understand this feeling of utter, paralyzing doom, where I am trying to go about my daily life and make plans for my career and carry out daily tasks and Be Responsible while there's still just this total void beyond the end of the year, the utter impossibility of knowing if we will have dodged an absolutely massive bullet and finally be safe (since if Trump loses again he is 100% going to jail in the next four years) or, well. You know. That is a very hard way to live, when you're wondering if anything is going to matter and you can't see beyond that black cloud of fear on the horizon. It sucks you down and tells you that nothing is worth doing now in case it just gets so much worse. I am not going to tell you not to feel that. We all do. We are all scared. That in and of itself is a perfectly normal way to feel.

However, there are things you can do both now and if (I repeat, if) God absolutely forbid, the worst was to happen (again). First of all, we have already lived through a Trump presidency once. It was terrible and scary and awful and demoralizing as fuck, but we can do it again if we absolutely Goddamn fucking have to (once, again, God forbid). Second, you are currently about as safe as you could be in California. Newsom has proven himself to be smart, tough, able to run rings around Republicans, and unwilling to comply with their stupid performative-cruelty directives. He's not a saint or a magician, but you don't need that; you need a shrewd politician able to fight back, and he has proven himself willing and capable of doing that. So as long as he is governor, you're going to be more safe than not, and I'd also like to ask all the shrieking Online Leftists if, should the shit go down, they would rather live in a state with a Democratic governor who will fight Trump 2.0 every step of the way, or a Republican governor who will just roll over and obey. (But that would destroy their BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME talking point, so you know.)

Next of all, even if the Republicans are doing their best impression, America in 2024 isn't Germany in 1934. There are different tools, different ways to fight back, and different awarenesses/social media/visibility factors. I also need everyone to remember that just as Biden can't just sign an executive order and fix everything everywhere, Trump can't just sign an executive order and fuck everything everywhere, just like that with no more discussion ever. He tried that last time, it generally didn't work, and trust me, at least this time nobody is sleeping on the danger he poses. His candidacy in 2016 was dismissed as a long-shot joke that nobody took seriously until it was too late, and for better or worse, people aren't doing that this time. He will be sued instantly, incredibly, and repeatedly with everything his band of wannabe fascists try, and since we have had four years of Biden fixing the courts from where Trump trashed them, that does mean something. There is no scenario where even if he does issue some outrageous order against women, LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, etc (which to be clear, I'm sure he would try) it would just be carried out completely, immediately, and with no feasible way to stop it. Evil is evil, but it is also stupid, clueless, determined to hurt people just for the hell of it without any regard for what is possible or which will be allowed, and there's a lot more grey area in there than just "Trump says something terrible and it's instantly done, the end."

Once again, I'm not going to say that the worst-case scenario is not possible, but I don't think it's likely, and even if that does happen, there are ways for us to survive and fight back (again). Nobody wants it and it should not have to be asked of us due to the utter collapse of the social, civic, political, and intellectual fabric of this country thanks to the TrumpCult, but once again... these people are so loud and dangerous and cruel and stupid because they are in the minority. Etc. etc. polls are garbage, but we did just have an interesting piece of empirical data from the Iowa caucuses. Trump -- in one of the whitest, most rural, most conservative, most religious, most Trump-loving states in the country -- struggled to break 50%. Almost half of a rabid Republican fully-Trumpized electorate, among the diehards sufficiently motivated to get out and caucus in extreme freezing weather, voted for someone else (Haley and DeSantis took about 20% apiece). Now, no, we don't know how that will translate to the general election, and if registered Republicans will flock back to the nominee even if it's Trump, but as almost half of Haley voters said they would vote for Biden if it was a Biden-Trump matchup in the general, there is some sense that Trump is an aberration to their otherwise ironclad party loyalty. Now, Republicans are the fucking worst and nobody should be relying on them to save us; we still need to get out and vote for Democrats with all our might. But Trump is no longer barn-burningly popular even in core Trump heartland, and it'll be interesting to see how things go in future primaries.

My point is: I know the feeling that evil is awful and unstoppable and all-powerful, and will crush our lives and our futures no matter what we do to resist it. I really, really do. But Trump is a terrible candidate, he's running literally only to keep himself out of a long, long prison sentence, and if he had crushed the Iowa caucuses regardless, we might be having a different conversation. However, we need to remember that it is possible, again (God forbid) in the worst scenario, to resist, to live, and to win. Everyone who is motivated to work for a better world will still be here. Everyone who can help you and all of us will still be here. And there are more of us than there are of them. Yes, I do understand the feeling that we need to have contingency plans in place, I do absolutely know that it could get very bad, and all that (as you say, nobody has a crystal ball). But for now, I want you to take a deep breath, try to take this day by day, and remember that this is not a crushing and inevitable future that will sweep over you and destroy you without you (or any other person of good will) having a say in the matter. You still have agency, you still have the ability to protect yourself, and you still have others who will protect you in turn. You're not alone. The bad guys want you to think that, because when you're isolated and terrorized, you're easier to pick off and/or recruit into their cult. But you're not.

In conclusion: "What are we holding onto, Sam?"

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 5

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 5 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

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Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Most days, Charlie's incessant prattling amused Alastor.  It was one of the few traits they both shared after all; the ability to pick up the threads of dropped conversations and weave them into something new.  Usually a pithy quip on his part while Charlie would provide some long-winded tirade about friendship and optimism; nonsensical sorts of things that Alastor didn’t spare much thought towards. 

Generally, it was an effortless feat for Alastor to redirect Charlie's attention and energy onto something or someone else; goodness knows that the residents of their hotel could generously be described as an absolute mess most of the time.  There was always some sort of disaster brewing that the little Princess couldn't help but insert herself into.  A lovers tiff here, a genocide there, another new guest with an uninspired tale of woe that required comfort and a supportive embrace or two.

But there was a stubborn streak in Charlie today that kept her focus fully on the Overlord.  And while he usually never shied away from being the center of attention, Alastor had to admit that he was beginning to grow increasingly weary of her present line of questioning.

“-so what do you think?  Are you willing to give it a shot?”  Charlie asked, her entire body practically quivering in anticipation for his answer.  

“Hmm?  I'm sorry, I must have drifted off for a moment there. What were you saying?” Alastor apologized, his eyes alight with false sincerity.  

“Oh, come on!  There was no way you tuned out that entire musical number!” Charlie groaned in frustration.  “I hit like, three super high notes!  There was confetti-”

“I was dancin’,” a passing sanitation worker interjected, unceremoniously dumping a bin full of used hypodermic needles into the back of an idling trash truck.  

“-the garbageman was dancing, Alastor!”

“I’m sure it was a most spectacular sight!” Alastor assured him.

“Damn right it was,” the garbage man grumbled under his breath as he hefted a heavily stained mattress into his arms.  

“Okay, just- ugh!” Charlie sighed, dragging a hand down her face in exasperation. “Forget the song-”

“Way ahead of you, my dear!” Alastor grinned, spinning his staff merrily as he set off down the sidewalk, Charlie quickly catching up despite his longer stride.  

“I'm just worried, Alastor.  You haven't really made any effort to open up to anyone at the hotel.”

“Haven't you ever heard the saying about mixing business and pleasure?  I'm merely maintaining a professional demeanor.  I would hate for the sterling reputation of our fine establishment to be tarnished by unprofessionalism!” Alastor explained, wiggling his fingers at a passing sinner who cowered under the oppressive weight of Alastor's fleeting glance.

“See, this is exactly what I mean!” Charlie shouted, frantically waving at all the pedestrians ducking down alleys and darting recklessly into oncoming traffic to avoid having to cross paths with the Radio Demon.  “People are afraid of you, Alastor.”

“As well they should be!  I am an Overlord after all, my dear.  Being terrifying is part of the job description.”

“Yes, I know that!  But the problem is that everyone is afraid of you.”

“Are they now?  I guess most people must be smarter than they look!” Alastor laughed in delight as Charlie's consternation grew. 

“I'm being serious here!  Even the people at the hotel are still…uncomfortable with you,” Charlie offered diplomatically.  “Which isn't what the hotel is supposed to be about.  It's supposed to be a place of friendship and comradery- where people can feel safe enough to open up and be vulnerable.”

Charlie paused in her explanation to gesture to the palpable air of malevolence that radiated from her hotelier.

“And you come off as everything but safe.”

“Oh, stop it!  You're making me blush!” Alastor cooed, lifting a coy hand to cradle his pale cheek.  

“Alastor,” Charlie sighed, quickly shuffling around him on the sidewalk so she could place herself directly in his path, forcing him to come to an abrupt halt and look into her pleading eyes.  “Please.  I need the hotel to be a success.  And I think that's what you want, too.  For whatever reason.”

Alastor was quiet as he examined the determined jut of Charlie's chin, his head tilting slightly to the side in consideration.  “What exactly is it that you require of me?”

“To be friendly.  To honestly try and connect with someone.”

“Shall I braid your hair then?  Gossip with the Effeminate Fellow about boys?”

“Those are both great ideas!  But they…don't really seem like your thing,” Charlie hesitantly admitted.  “Why don't you start out with something you're good at?”

“Torture?” 

“Talking.”

“If you insist,” Alastor sighed.  “But my suggestion would be considerably more entertaining.”

“Hey, you never know where a good conversation might lead!  Just look at me and Vaggie!,” the Princess chirped excitedly, her eyes sparkling in delight at the mere thought of her taciturn partner. “She would barely say two words to me when we met and now we tell each other everything!”

“Ahhh,” Alastor narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  “Is that your angle?  To find me a partner?  A paramour?  To try to soften me up with affection?”

“What?  No, that's not it at all!” Charlie rushed to assure him, her hands flapping wildly in front of her body as though she could physically waft away the misunderstanding.  “I mean, it would be great if you could find someone like that, you know, if- if you wanted to!  It's nice to have someone to care about- to care about you , in that way.”

“Please, do elaborate,” Alastor said, gesturing in front of himself with an exaggerated wave of his hand, encouraging Charlie to continue down the hopelessly cracked and pitted sidewalk towards Cannibal Town. 

“Oh- uhhh,” Charlie sputtered, stumbling over her own legs slightly as she moved to fall into step beside Alastor, her fingers nervously twiddling around each other as she struggled to find the words to explain herself.  “Partners are, well- it's sort of like being friends, but more?  Better, I guess?  You talk with them and spend time with them like friends, but they just-”

Charlie paused, heaving in a deep sigh as she imagined her girlfriend in her mind's eye, and tried to verbalize all the wonderful feelings that Vaggie cultivated in her heart.

“When you see someone you love, your day just instantly brightens.  You get excited thinking about the next time you see them- it feels like a bunch of moths are fluttering around inside of your belly.”

Alastor's upper lip curled up in revulsion.  “And that's a desirable feeling?  Intestinal insects?”

“Well, not when you put it that way,” Charlie huffed, crossing her arms across her chest in frustration.  “It's something you can't really explain unless you've experienced it.”

Alastor was unusually quiet, the ambient humming that surrounded him barely audible as they continued on their way.  For a moment, Charlie worried that she had maybe gone too far; that she had drawn an exclusive circle around herself and her experiences that painted Alastor as even more of an outsider than he already was.  An apology sat perched on her tongue, ready to assure him that it was okay to never have felt these things, when Alastor spoke up.  

“It doesn’t feel like fluttering,” Alastor drawled, his free hand pressed against his abdomen pensively.  “It’s more akin to a gnawing sensation.”  

“Wait-,” Charlie gasped, quickly sucking in a lungful of the humid Hellish air.  “Alastor, is there- is there someone you have feelings for?”

“Upon reflection I do believe there might be, based on your exceptionally vivid description of the experience,” Alastor informed her with an excited grin, pushing open the reinforced glass door of a building and ushering Charlie over the threshold ahead of him with a courteous incline of his head.  

“Ooooohhhhh, Alastor!” Charlie squealed, bouncing on her toes in barely suppressed jubilation as she queued up in the short line in front of the register.  “Who is it?  How long have you known them? Can I meet them?  Do you think they like you back?  Wait- that's too many questions!  I'm sorry!  But I'm just so excited for you!”

“It's fine, my dear!  Perfectly understandable,” Alastor reassured her with an indulgent laugh.  “And of course you can meet them, if that's what you'd like.”

“YES!” Charlie yelled, only realizing how loud she was once all the numerous eyes of both the customers and the walls of the store quickly shifted their focus onto her.  She coughed into her fist and straightened her lapels in embarrassment as she waited for the other customers to lose interest and turn away. “I mean- that is to say, it would be lovely to meet them at your earliest convenience.”

“But of course!” Alastor agreed readily as he stepped with Charlie to the front of the line.  “Here she comes now!”

“Now?” Charlie squawked, spinning around frantically in quick circles to try and catch a glimpse of who in the store Alastor might be referring to.

“Here you are, Alastor, Sir,” you announced with a nervous grin, sliding a large, paper-wrapped parcel across the counter.  “One whole venison round, as requested.”

“Thank you, my dear!” Alastor said as he took hold of the meat, vanishing it to locations unknown with a quick snap of his fingers.  “I was wondering if I might trouble you for a moment longer, though?”

Sweat immediately began to gather at your hairline as you tried to swallow down the bile creeping up your throat.  “Is- is there a problem with your order?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Alastor assured you with a sharp grin that did little to settle your nerves.  “It has recently been brought to my attention that I am enamored with you.”

All sounds inside the butcher shop abruptly halted, like the entire store had been sucked into a vacuum; customer's jaws hanging slack in shock at the unexpected confession. 

“You're what?” You squeak in obvious distress, casting pleading glances at your coworkers who were quietly peeking in  through a slim crack through the backroom door, eager to spy on the unfolding drama.

“Enamored, my dear!  Beguiled!  Infatuated!  Smitten, if you will.”

“You… like me?” You muttered dumbly as your brain struggled to process the bizarre scene you had found yourself thrust into the middle of.  

“Apparently!” Alastor laughed, reaching behind himself to tug his companion to his side.  “See, I was chatting with my associate here, Charlie, the Princess of Hell-”

“Your Grace,” you croak dryly, dropping into what was hopefully a passable curtsy.

“Hey, uh- nice to meet you!” Charlie greeted with a stiff wave and an even stiffer smile. 

“-and she made me realize what my true feelings for you were!  How you make my day better, how I look forward to the next time I see you, how you make my stomach rumble,” Alastor growled lowly, his already towering form seeming to elongate as he loomed over you.

“...It ah- it sounds like maybe you're just… hungry whenever you see me?”

“Perhaps!” Alastor cackled, his staticy laugh even more distorted up close.  “But one man's passion is another man's hunger, as they say!”

“Do they say that?  Is that a thing people say?!” You whispered manically towards Charlie, her shoulders jumping up towards her ears in a helpless shrug.

“Gastrointestinal palpitations aside, you can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow, his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place; afraid that any sudden movement might somehow cause him to pounce. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

“RIGHT, okay!” Charlie interrupted with a nervous laugh, slamming a handful of bills down onto the counter as she managed to mercifully push herself between the Radio Demon and the meat counter.  “So sorry, but we have to go- there's important hotel business we need to get back to!  It was lovely meeting you, have a nice day, BYE!”

You were still staring at the door minutes after Charlie had frantically pulled Alastor out of the store, only snapping out of your daze when your manager shuffled up beside you, nose buried in the employee handbook.  

“I've triple checked and experiencing sudden romantic overtones isn't grounds for taking personal leave,” he explained, pointing to the exact passage in the well-worn guide.  “You're gonna’ have to finish out your shift.”

“Of course,” you replied distantly, unable to meaningfully focus on anything other than your racing thoughts and the strange, muffled ringing in your ears.  “What about if I pass out?”

“Says here you'll get a fifteen minute break and a strong cup of tea.”

“Better put the kettle on then,” you mumbled as your knees buckled, vision going black as you plummeted towards the floor.  Your manager looked down at your crumpled body and sighed, nudging you out of the way with his foot and stepping up to the register.  

“Next in line!”

[professional-idiots]

TBHK Ch.110–Thoughts and feelings

1. I don’t even know what to say about this. LIKE!!?!!?! Especially because Akane always said that supernaturals only ever think about themselves!!! GUYS… I wonder if this is gonna affect him as a character and his outlook on the supernatural (anyway they’re literally siblings and I was sobbing)

2. SOOO CURIOUS ABOUT THIS!!!! What’s the significance?? Is it a functional key? Probably… and if so what does it open?? Maybe it controls the clock somehow???? So many possibilities 😭

3. WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM. This is my SON. I love him so much and I was so happy natsuhiko went to go find him 😭😭😭😭

4. He trusts him so fully!!! He genuinely thought natsuhiko was coming to save him!! He thought they were—if not friends then at least *friendly* HE THOUGHT HE COULD TRUST HIM

5. When I tell you my heart DROPPED (but I am excited by all this yorishiro talk—more on that later)

6. TBHK character stop shoving strange substances into Mitsuba’s mouth challenge (level: impossible)

7. MYYYY BABY MY BABY YOURE MY BABY SAY IT TO ME!!! IIIII BET ON LOSING DOGGGSSSSS

(AND ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS PREVIOUS ALMOST DEATH)

8. Friendly reminder that Teru is the worst boyfriend ever (he’s actively watching Akane eat shit)

9. I need someone with better media literacy than me to explain what the FUCK is up with these guys bc I feel like I know but like I don’t…. Every time I think I understand shit gets weird again. Like I’m following the story but I cannot analyze this

10. HIS FACCEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭

OK THIS CHAPTER WAS AMAZING!!! I’m so scared for 111 bc WHAT IS GONNA HAPPEN!!!! I have so many theories and ideas and ughughughugh it was so good (even though everything that happened was bad) 8/10 (I’m giving this rating kind of arbitrarily so don’t read into it too much)

So on the yorishiro thing: I think Kou might become Mitsuba’s Yorishiro. Now I know people can become them but can living people… I dunno. However, I think it’s really likely. I’m wracking my brain on what all this Mitsuba would have to value. Not his camera because that was Sousuke’s thing. And if not his camera, then what? Kou is the one thing/person that Mitsuba has grown truly attached to.

So I think next chapter Mitsuba will be dying, but Kou will somehow be able to break from the time thingy (either he wills himself awake—like has a power flare in defense of Mitsuba—or maybe someone helps him—but who 😭) and goes over to Mitsuba and while he’s crying and being all Kou, Mitsuba is gonna like think about Kou (maybe call him his friend for the first time) and somehow in the moment Kou will become Mitsuba’s yorishiro. TRUST GUYS TRUST.

Also on Mitsuba and Kou:

POOR KOU. He looked up to natsuhiko so much when they met right before the severance 😭😭 if he’s close enough, he would’ve SEEN everything happening to Mitsuba.

And also POOR MITSUBA. He trusted natsuhiko!!!!! The good news is that Mitsuba will probably fully shift sides now and possibly make a more direct effort to help Kou Yahsiro and Hanako. Genuinely though, his mom is hurt, *he* is hurt, his friend(ish) betrayed him. My poor baby 😭 why do AidaIro hate himmmm.

I would say something super smart and informed about the twins now, but as I said: nothing about them makes any sense to me.

Ugh I seriously don’t think I can wait till next monthhhhh!!!! If AidaIro lose it and actually kill off Mitsuba…. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. 111 better be good or else 😭

[cowlickers]

You know, I don’t think it can be understated that the dynamic between Billy and Mandy in the grim adventures of Billy and Mandy is very very interesting. on paper if you just look at the two characters, you see angry character who is somewhat a little bit evil and her idiot sidekick, but with Billy and Mandy it’s a bit different because we see how much Mandy literally does not give a fuck about anyone and so the fact that she puts up with an idiot like Billy for as long as she has is strange to me because she clearly must’ve value something about Billy that she doesn’t see in any other person, other than maybe grim. is it possible that she does season as an idiot to be a man manipulated sure sure but here’s the kicker everyone in this universe is some level of insane idiot that can be manipulated and I’m pretty sure they’re episodes she has done so. but here’s the thing it never last more than one episode Billy is the constant I’m not gonna say whether or not it is a healthy admiration, but there is some level of admiration there that Mandy sees Billy has some sort of potential if you will that she’s constantly willing to put up with his insane stupidity. could be his strength, his ability to always get back up no matter what, his incredible empathy despite being an idiot. In a weird way these two characters kind of completely each other in a Mandy, for being too intelligent to really relate to anyone else in Endsville, and Billy’s kindness despite the fact that Mandy shows Billy little to no kindness, his inability to read the room or know that Mandy is like an incredibly evil person is the reason why I think she keeps him around because obviously everyone else is terrified of her, but Billy is either stupid enough or fearless enough to even attempt to try and befriend her. I don’t care who you are, if you encounter a person like that you at the very least will be intrigued.

in light of Mandy‘s prickly personality it’s pretty clear to see that because of her constant brutal nature that it would be almost impossible for Mandy to make friends with anyone because even when Mandy is not being mean, she just has incredibly high standards. We’ve seen Mandy make a genuine effort to try to connect with other people, but for one reason or other due to their own little character quirk, she was like no I don’t like you, and that brutal honesty is the reason why, despite being the most feared person in her town she’s not the most respected. I don’t know how Billy and Mandy work but for whatever reason they work, and I just think that that is super important.

[locallygrowndaikon]

Hi!! How do you meet and make genuine friends on Sky? I’ve been playing for a few years now, but whenever I get a chance to chat with other players they either speak a different language or ask me a bunch of personal questions 😵‍💫. There seems to be so many funny and interesting people online but I never meet them in person!

I had to think about this one for a bit since im not good at making friends either JGGHFJ

I think it’s definitely easier to find people to connect with online rather than in game. A lot of the people I’m closer with in sky are usually people I find through online platforms rather than in game (though not saying its impossible to find good ingame friends, just might be harder) . A general thing would be to find those who have similar interests or humour, and as well as to spend time with the friends every once in a while, whether it be candlerunning or just hanging out to talk.

If you want a more in depth rambling of me going on about everything I know about making friends, then:

Ok well this is kinda for anyone reading this JGHJDJ

A general thing about friends is to find a common interest to talk about like OCs, art, sky in general, other games, anything basically, especially if you’re like me and bad at conversations. Even after you find the initial spark, it can get hard to keep up with regular conversations afterwards and it’s easy to drift apart. If you want to get closer with someone it’s definitely good to start conversations every once in a while. This can go from telling them things you think will be funny or showing them things to just things about your day. A lot of people appreciate this kind of thing and usually get comfortable to reciprocate it (unless you’re like me and really bad at stating conversations HFBSIC)

In sky, this can also be asking the other if they want to cr together or eden, even oobing if you’re into that. It gives the chance to hang out and talk to each other.

Of course, if the other person doesn’t respond with a lot of enthusiasm or doesnt seem to put effort into the friendship, it might be time to back off to give them space. They could either be tired and need a break or they arent interested in the friendship anymore. An exception would be if the person is already socially awkward or isn’t good at starting conversations. It can be hard to tell sometimes.

If you wanna find friends

For finding friends online, its usually finding a community and finding people within it or becoming a part of the community. if you’re social enough you can join discord servers and talk to people. Even if you arent as social, discord server can still help find people to interact with, like cr partners, heart trade, needing help people/finding help, that could lead to friendship. There’s also being on social media, though it might be harder if you dont post things or if you arent really noticed or something, though it’s not like you need to be famous to be able to find people. You can also find others on social media who are already asking for friends. Ive seen quite a few on tumblr and sometimes on other platforms where people asks if anyone wants to be sky friends. Twitch, the streaming platform yeah, also has quite a few sky creators that are willing to friend pretty much anyone, which could be another way to find a community (since quite a few people on sky twitch know each other).

For in game in sky: Moths are definitely easier to become friends with since you know guiding them and everything and watching them grow up, except moths are wild cards and some are euaheh weird and others never show up again. A lot of older players already have their own friends and friend groups and then other people play inconsistently or have different timezones/playtimes, so theres a lot more luck when making friends on sky. Best bet would just be keep talking to people and when you do find someone you bond with, continue to join and check in on them every once in a while to keep up the friendship.

Joining friends in game can be scary for many (me included), but it usually ends up not as bad as you think, of course respecting dnd spells (or cape codes if they have those). Even if you do join at an inconvenient time, its a simple “oh, sorry/mb” and you head out, leaving minimal damage and awkwardness.

Of course since this is the internet and people can be bad, if people cross boundaries even after being warned once or multiple times, or you just dont enjoy hanging out with, its okay to block and cut people off. No one is obligated to hang out with anyone nor responsible for the happiness of someone else. Having self worth and internet safety is important folks

Anyways people are complicated and theres a lot of ifs and possibilities and other stuff what not so take whatever advice i spit out mindlessly for granted JFHDO i dont know what im doing

[apuckishwit]

For five sentences thingie: Steve/Eddie - “How do you want to do this?”

“How do you want to do this?”

Steve stands back from the open passenger door, glancing between his open front door and the passenger seat’s occupant. Dustin and Mike have already stampeded into the house, shouting about getting things “ready” like Steve hasn’t had that covered for the last week, ever since they got word that Eddie was being released from the hospital. His…friend? They’re friends, now, aren’t they? You can’t really go through the things they’ve gone through together and not come out the other side being friends…stares at the short walk to the door as though it’s the first leg up Mt. Everest. He’s dressed in a simple black button up and sweatpants (the best Steve could do under the circumstances—it’s not like there’s a lot of stores still open in Hawkins, and the trailer park is squarely a no-go zone), but underneath Steve knows he’s still wrapped almost head to toe in bandages. He’s pale and sweating just from the effort of sitting up in the car for the drive from the hospital, and Steve would bet money if he tries to stand unassisted, he’ll just keel over.

Damn, maybe he should have listened when Mike suggested they steal the wheelchair they’d rolled Eddie out to Steve’s car in.

Eddie sighs, raking a hand back through hair that hangs in greasy clumps around his face. He probably hasn’t bathed properly the entire time he’s been in the hospital. “I can make it,” he says, and Steve very politely ignores how completely unbelievable that sounds. Eddie’s lips twist unhappily. “Uh…maybe if you help me?” He looks away, embarrassed. Steve keeps his expression neutral, remembering very well how much he hated constantly having to ask for help while his own bat bites were healing. Thank God for Robin.

Robin had kept up a steady stream of complaints and insults while she helped him in and out of his shirts, helped him rebandage his wounds, helped him wash and disinfect the mess of his back every night, her touch always quick, gentle, and completely impersonal. He doesn’t think he and Eddie are quite at the point where he can distract the other man with a well-timed “oh my God, this looks like raw hamburger! I thought you said it was better!” but he can certainly provide a brisk, neutral touch.

“You want me to carry you, or you want to just lean on me?” he asks, and waits patiently while Eddie chews over the options before finally sighing, his shoulders slumping.

“Much as I would love to macho it out—you think you can just, uh, piggy-back me in there?”

He snorts, despite himself. “You sure you want to let Henderson have that visual?”

Eddie groans, but smiles a little. “If he gives me a hard time, I’ll just slaughter his character next campaign. Ugh, if there is a next campaign.”

“I’m sure you guys will get to play your nerd game plenty more times.” He tries to feel as confident as he sounds. He doesn’t think he quite succeeds. “All right, just let me do all the work.”

That earns him another weak snort of laughter. “Any time, big boy,” Eddie murmurs as Steve turns and crouches down. He lets Eddie kind of collapse down across his back and carefully, so, so carefully, slides his hands under the backs of his thighs. Eddie’s arms slide around his neck, the soft grunt of pain impossible to miss this close, with Eddie’s hair tickling the back of his neck, the puffs of his breath warm against Steve’s throat. It’s strangely intimate, and he feels oddly humbled that Eddie’s trusting him this much, is willing to show this much vulnerability to him instead of trying to tough it out the way Steve knows he would have.

“Ready?” he asks and waits for Eddie’s hesitant nod to stand slowly. He leans forward rather than straightening his back, so Eddie doesn’t have to work as hard to hang on. He won’t say carrying Eddie is no effort—they’re basically the same height and while Eddie isn’t as broad as he is, he’s not exactly a string bean—but it’s not as difficult as it should be. Eddie’s lost a lot of weight in the weeks since Steve literally dragged him out of the Upside Down.

“Hey, uh, I don’t think I ever said—thanks for doing this,” Eddie says softly as they make their way up the short walk to the front door. His voice is already strained, a tinge of pain to the words that makes Steve want to move faster, but he doesn’t want to jostle his wounds further.

“Carrying your ass? Kind of becoming a regular thing.”

Another huff of laughter, and the arms tighten slightly around his neck. “No, just…all of it. Pulling me outta there. Hanging around while Hopper was getting my name cleared. Fuck, letting me stay in your house. Hell, Henderson told me you plugged my fucking femoral artery with your hand while Wheeler was getting us to the hospital.”

Steve swallows hard, remembering the gush of hot blood over his fingers, the pulse of it getting weaker and weaker as Dustin screamed and cried and begged Steve to do something. “Don’t worry about it. You’re one of us, now.”

And it’s as simple as that, for Steve. Eddie’s in the Upside Down shit now, and he’s refused to take the very sensible out that was offered to him and leave Hawkins on the government’s dime. He’s determined to help them against Vecna, determined not to run away from the horror that they’ve all been dealing with for so long. He’s one of them now. That makes him one of Steve’s people. One of the people he’s responsible for. One of the people he has to protect.

He comes to the first step up to his front door and hears Eddie hiss softly. He slows his steps even further, tries to make his movements as smooth as possible. “Almost there. I gotcha,” he says.

He feels Eddie press his head against his shoulder for a moment, and there is something warm and soft in his voice when he replies, “I know you do.”

[dyns33]

The Ending

Last Morpheus x Hob!Reader. A bit hard to read, and with spoilers from the comics, careful. 

Y/N Y/L/N couldn't die.

Not if she didn't want to.

Lord Morpheus repeated this to himself over and over as he continued to search for her everywhere. He refused to think that his sister might have changed her mind or that his immortal lover might have decided to leave without telling him.

Something else must have happened, and though it might be horrible, Dream told himself that he would find her, that she would be alive, and that he would help her get better, for as long as necessary.

She had told him about her long life, he had seen some of her nightmares. Y/N had experienced a lot of things, she was strong, smart. Everything would end well.

Her disappearance dated back to a few days now. If he hadn't learned to control his rage, Lord Morpheus would have punished Johanna Constantine for causing all this trouble. She had come to seek the help of Y/N and Hob for a dangerous mission, thinking that it would be better to be accompanied by people who could not die.

There are fates worse than death, Dream had once told Robert. You can be injured or captured.

It had happened to him soon after, like a premonition, and now Y/N might be stuck somewhere. Maybe she was being tortured, and if he didn't move fast enough, if she lost hope, then she might call his sister to end her suffering.

But no, she couldn't die, he refused that.

Despite his best efforts, traveling the waking world and dreams, dispatching Matthew and his most loyal subjects, he was unable to find her.

The Hecate didn't give him any help, answering with riddles and mocking him. Lost, he did something he hadn't even thought of doing when he was captured : he called his family. It wasn't as helpful as he would have hoped.

As always, Destiny couldn't do anything, saying whatever was supposed to happen would happen. 

Death only reassured him, promising him that Y/N had not contacted her, and that if she did, she would take him with her to save his beloved. She looked strange, but said nothing. 

Destruction didn't answer.

 The twins were a little surprised by his request, savoring this moment, happy to see him so weak in their domains, desperate and in love.

     "We'd be willing to help you just because we pity you and you finally seem to realize you're no better than us..." Desire began.

     "... But we can't do anything for you. An ancient magic seems to have taken your lover." continued Despair. "She's too far from us. Sorry."

It was out of sheer politeness, knowing how susceptible she could be, that Dream went to Delirium. Poor Delirium, his youngest sister would probably not achieve more than the others had already done.

She jumped up when she saw him, saying that she had missed him, before saying a lot of nonsense, but listening all the same to the reason for his coming. Delirium looked serious for a moment, thinking hard, before jumping up again.

     "I dON't KnOw wheRe Y/N Is. BUt I knOw whO I CAn Ask !"

     "Come find me if your friend brings news." sighed Morpheus who wasn't really listening.

     "He'S nOt MY fRIenD, BUt OkAY !"

A few hours later, someone showed up at the gate of the realm, and Matthew flew as quickly as possible to his master to tell him that Y/N had returned.

In an instant, Dream appeared beside her, hugging her, asking her if she was hurt, wiping the tears from her cheeks, touching her bloody hands.

     "... I'm fine." she whispered without looking at him.

     "Obviously not. If those who hurt you are not dead yet, I will find them and lock them in an eternal nightmare."

     "Forget it, Morpheus. I don't want to talk about it."

     "I cannot leave unpunished those who have dared..."

     "Nobody hurt me." Y/N said more firmly, but still avoiding his gaze. "It's not my blood. I lost myself, in limbos. It was impossible to find my way, I was alone, and I was afraid of arriving in hell, or of dying without doing it on purpose. Then he... I do not want to talk about it."

     "He ? Who is he ?"

Y/N initially refused to answer, continuing to cry, before falling to her knees and beginning to ask his forgiveness, as if she had committed a crime. The pleas came next, her love saying that she would understand that he hated her, that he never wanted to see her again, but that she had no choice. She was shaking, as if she was afraid of him.

     "He asked me... He was so tired, so kind. His voice... His voice..." she sobbed, taking Morpheus's hands. "He had such a beautiful voice."

Then Dream understood. And after having focused his attention only on Y/N, he contemplated the universe and whispered the name of his son who was no longer there. That was what his sister had hidden from him. What his brother had meant.

Y/N was alive, and Orpheus was dead.

Delirium had had the idea of going to ask her nephew for help. She had never thought of it before, but he was a oracle, so he knew everything, and he didn't have to keep quiet like their big brother. She wanted to ask him where her dear other brother Destruction was, but Orpheus had smiled, saying that his uncle didn't want to be found, that there was more important matters to deal with at the moment, and that he wouldn't be here afterwards.

Using his link with the Limbos where he had lost Eurycype, he had found Y/N and he had guided her to the exit. He had, however, asked her for a favor.

     "He said he wanted to join his wife. He couldn't stay like that anymore. He was already dead, or almost. He was staying for his mother, and you, even if he was convinced that you didn't love him anymore and that you would never come back to see him. He would have wanted to see you, and at the same time, he was afraid. Afraid that you would reject him, or that you would accept his request. He knew the rules, he knew what he would happen to you if you released him, so... He asked me. I didn't want to do it. I said there had to be a solution. I didn't want you to hate me."

     "My love..."

     "He said it would be fine. That you would understand. He sang to calm me down. A lullaby you made for him. It was beautiful. Oh, Morpheus, it was beautiful. Forgive me."

Unable to speak, he took her in his arms. His son was right, he didn't hate Y/N. He would never hate her, he was glad she was back, that she wasn't hurt. Yes, Orpheus was long dead, though none of them wanted to accept it.

     "My love..." he whispered again, continuing to rock her, trying to calm her crying, as he had done with this little baby that Calliope had given him. "There is nothing to forgive. You granted his wish, you did nothing wrong. You gave my child peace, something I could never have done. I wanted him to live, I was not here for him. At least he's with his wife now. He's happy."

Y/N continued to cry and apologize for several hours, hugging him and letting him kiss her until she was too exhausted to move.

It was not necessary to warn anyone. Once his partner was calmer, although still feeling guilty despite all his reassuring words, the family came.

Morpheus was afraid that they would be violent towards Y/N, that they would insult her, curse her, try to kill her.

The meeting was very strange.

Destiny didn't speak much, only repeating that what had to happen had happened. He quickly added that the other option would have been difficult, for everyone. Death hugged his brother, then Y/N, without saying anything, because it was not necessary. Destruction did not come.

The three youngest were the most surprising. Very serious, very solemn. Despair offered her condolences. Delirium apologized if she had made a mistake. Desire remained in a corner. It wasn't time for teasing, but none of them were mad at Y/N. Their nephew had been on the borders of their domains for too long, it was good that he was free.

Calliope arrived last, calm and serene, but with tears streaming down her cheeks. By stupid reflex, Morpheus stood in front of Y/N, but the muse smiled sadly at him, before passing and taking his companion's hand.

     "Thank you." she said. "Thank you for helping my son."

Not considering that she had helped him, Y/N just nodded trying not to cry again. She couldn't, and Morpheus took her back to their room as soon as everyone had left.

Of course, there remained the dreams and nightmares, curious and worried, who wanted to check that everything was alright for their creator, but also for his lover. They all adored Y/N, they didn't like to see her so sad, but above all, they wondered if their master might not blame her for what had happened.

     "I do not understand what you mean."

     "Well... She... She killed your son, boss." muttered the raven as if he had just said an insult. "Yeah, he asked her, and she's sorry, and I understand, but… You might be upset, and angry."

     "I am not."

     "Not even a little ?"

     "I'm not saying that the loss of my son doesn't cause me any pain. But Y/N is safe and sound thanks to him, and I've only felt joy since her return." he said, stroking the hair of the immortal, who was starting to wake up. "Excuse me, Matthew, but I don't want to leave her alone during this moment. I'll join her in the Waking World, tell Lucienne to watch over the realm while I'm gone."

     "Yes, boss. I'm sorry."

     "Don't be. If anyone is responsible, it's me. I had minimized my son's suffering. If Y/N had died today... Maybe I would have gone to hell for her. My sister would have laughed at me, saying that I was selfish. I could have helped him, I didn't. My brother is right, things happened as they were supposed to , and now I have to follow my own advice. Accept that he's gone, and savor every moment with Y/N, my Y/N, that he brought back to me."

The raven refrained from answering. He wasn't really satisfied, but he couldn't do anything. It wasn't a nice ending, like in the fairy tales, but it wasn't a bad ending either. Life like stories, their master well knew, did not always have happy endings. They had endings. And if in his Y/N was at his side, that was enough.

[callmewrinkles3]

Book Extract 3

Perth, July 2035

Content warning for mentions of pregnancy loss.

I never thought that balancing parenthood and racing would be one of the hardest things I’d ever have to do, but it really was. I know it sounds stupid, and I’m well aware that I’m not the only driver who’s ever had to deal with it, but it felt impossible at times.

From the second my eldest daughter was born, the best thing in my world was being a dad. There’s nothing I love more than being my kids dad and Emmy’s husband. My family’s my priority. Don’t get me wrong, I adore racing, but the second being a parent was a possibility my priorities started to shift. And the moment she was born they changed entirely, Em had to talk me down from quitting my first season back with Red Bull before the season even started. We felt so lucky to have Lulu, for so many reasons.

A quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage and we’re part of that statistic. It’s why we deliberately kept Em’s pregnancy private for as long as we could, we were terrified that it could happen again. But it didn’t and then we had that gorgeous little girl and we were over the moon. The fact that this tiny, precious, fragile baby girl was half me and half my wife? Half the best woman I know? That after wanting her and waiting for her for so long she was finally in our arms and looking up with us with her big brown eyes? There was nothing else that I could ask for. Everything I wanted was to be there by my girls side and being the dad I wanted to be.

That’s why being a part time dad on race weeks killed me. Monday and most of Tuesday I got to be a dad, changing nappies and feeding and burping Lulu. But from Wednesday on I barely got to hold them. I got to be with them in the morning before running to sim time or meetings or getting to the track, I got to give a kiss to them at lunch and see them at dinner, and Em insisted on staying up until I got to bed at night. I could count on one hand how many hours I got to spend with them on race weekends and that guilt was nothing like anything I’d felt before.

I was so lucky. I was so, so incredibly lucky. When Christian gave me the call and told me that Checo was retiring and after my Silverstone podium that they wanted me to take the seat I told Emmy that it was more than ok if she didn’t want me to take it. If she said no and wanted us to call it a day and go home we were going back to Perth and have our baby girl and settle down like we said we were going to in the future. But instead of picking the easy road, the crazy, wonderful, strong willed woman I married decided that the easy road wasn’t the road we were ever going to take. She insisted that I needed to go back. She knew it was what I really wanted to do, so it was more than ok to be selfish and do it.

We made a deal moving forward. Em and Lulu were coming to the races with me, and Em was going to do all the parenting when I had driving duties. If at any point she wanted to call it quits then we were going home. She was the one doing most of the family work for us, so she got to make the call. The decision was easy. I’d race until 2026 and we’d go home then to settle in Perth so Lulu could start kindy on time at home and have her parents there. But what we didn’t expect was for my first year back in the car to have everything happen then.

Every single racing driver races to win. We have fun doing it, doing a good overtake is brilliant, but we’re there to win. I was there to win races and spray the champagne, but I knew that first season back I was going in as a second driver. I never imagined I’d be seriously fighting for the championship. Maybe in the second year I could try, but definitely not in the first one.

But by putting all that effort into winning I had to leave all the parenting work on my wife. I missed doctors appointments for Lulu’s vaccinations because I was in the sim. I wasn’t home when Lulu had her first illness because I had to be at a sponsor event. When she had her first cold - in Baku of all places - Em decided to sleep on the couch in our hotel room because she was terrified of me getting sick and having to drive while feeling like crap. The same thing happened when Lulu started teething and Em had to stay up most of the night to calm her down and let me get some sleep before a race.

If Lulu had a (fortunately rare) night before I got in the car, Em didn’t let me get up. It was the same when she needed to be fed at night.

“You’re driving at 300 kilometres an hour this weekend, Baby. You need to sleep. I‘ll nap on Monday.” That’s all she said when I offered.

One of the things I admire most about my wife is that she did that for two years with a smile on her face. She adapted to being a new mother and carried a baby around the world so I could live my dream, and she never complained about anything. I knew she was exhausted nearly every day but she never mentioned it. She had to be a single parent for half the year and she never made one comment. The internet made enough of them for both of us really. She had the right to complain every single day, but she just kissed my cheek and told me to go get her another win to tell our kids about in the future.

And that’s exactly what I did.

Every single win was for Em, Lulu, and our future kids we hadn’t even dreamed about. It was for the baby we never got to meet. Every single time I got to stand on the top step of those podiums I got to look down at her and our baby girl cheering for me. But when the fuss was over and the champagne got washed away I got to go back to being a dad. I’d hold my girls as tightly and as much as possible until the cycle began again.

But it was also back to the guilt. After the photos were taken from that first race in Australia and we did Lulu’s own tiny shoey, I was so close to quitting. The guilt was all encompassing, and Emma was the one who talked to me and stopped me from quitting after the first race. Lulu was so small, Emma was so tired, and I just wanted to bring them back home and keep them safe. It’s what you do when you want to protect your family.

And then there were all the comments. I talked to Kevin Magnussen about them and he’d had some of them too. People made a comment about every single parenting decision you make, that we were insane for bringing a barely four month old around the world to every single race. It makes you overthink everything you’re doing and if you’re doing the right thing. It was especially hard because we were first time parents and while we had people around us, the world knows that only one side of our family was there for us. We were learning as we went, and we were working out how to be the best versions of ourselves for our daughter. We were as new to being parents as she was to the world.

But this was the best decision for us, and that’s what mattered. Having Em in Perth or London raising our daughter on her own wasn’t even a possibility. Being hours and time zones away from them wasn’t something that either of us were willing to consider. If I couldn’t get to see them in between meetings it was hard enough, being away for days or weeks wasn’t an option. If anything at all had happened to either of them and they were only in hospitality that was one thing. Being potentially a full day of travel away in an emergency? I couldn’t do it. So we made the decision and it’s the best one we could have done.

When I had my first win in Australia Em was right there at the barriers waiting for me, and I got to hug them and kiss Emmy’s happy tears away. When time zones and jet lag were messing with all of us and had Lulu upside down I could hold her and sing her out of tune lullabies until she got to sleep. When I crashed in Austria I got to hold my girls as soon as medical cleared me. The days that Emmy was exhausted and needed naps in my driver’s room to get through the day, Uncle Blake could look after Lulu and I could hug my wife and thank her for giving up so much to let me fight for my dream. It was so hard, but they were there and we were together and I got to see them every day in person instead of through a screen. It was entirely worth it.

But people liked talking about our bad choices as parents, and then they started talking about how I shouldn’t focus so much on my family and should concentrate on the championship. Someone one day chose the wrong words and told me to stop focusing on my family, and I’m not ashamed to admit I exploded. I apologised for my language after, but not being angry.

That was a particularly bad day. It was a bad weekend in general. We’ve been so lucky that once they arrived each of our kids were very easy babies. They were little saints who barely complained or cried. Not a lot of parents get that lucky, but we did. Lulu never gave us problems or headaches, even when she was spending the first two years of her life wandering around the paddock clutching Ony.

That weekend Lulu was teething, Em was looking after her and was exhausted, but it was Saturday night before a race and I had to sleep. But I’d gotten too used to Em sleeping beside me, Lulu in her crib in her room. I couldn’t really sleep without them. It’s one of those nights when I felt powerless, like I should have been able to do more. I should have been able to help my wife and daughter, but I was there in bed. If I went out to the living room of the suite Em would send me straight back to bed to rest. And then that stupid comment happened and I lost my temper.

How could someone ask me not to focus on my daughter? How could I not pay attention to the little girl who’d lit up our lives when she was born? They were essentially saying that my daughter was a distraction. And the biggest problem with that was it was exactly what had been said about Emma in the paddock before.

I don’t think anyone could understand exactly how it feels to be told that the person you love the most in the world is a distraction and the reason you’re losing your job. That unnamed people have seen her flirting - and more - with strangers. That she was sleeping with the men we consider brothers.

We knew it was all lies. I completely knew it was lies but Em was terrified for her reputation. It took me too much time to find out why certain people were sharing those rumours but then I finally learned that people who were supposed to support me and have my back wanted Emma out of the paddock and my life because “she’s a distraction”. They wanted to use her as the scapegoat for a much bigger issue that had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with a car that nobody listened to my feedback about.

What they didn’t know - what almost nobody knew - was that Emma was one of the people who kept me going. Emma, Michael, and Blake were the ones who kept me going, but Em kept me sane. Every race I won or was on the podium for after Monaco 2018 she was there for. She was the last person to wish me luck before my helmet went on, and the first person I saw when I got back to the garage. You need people who will support you, and those three are my family. It was the four of us against the world, and when I won Monza I won it for them.

Blake always says that whenever I see Em I turn into a little kid who wants candy. And he’s not the only one. The easiest way to make me do anything I didn’t want to do was to tell me that Em was waiting for me when I was finished. It worked every single time, either that or getting her to tell me to do it. I am an absolute sucker for that woman. Internet commenters called me a simp, and it’s absolutely true.

Someone told me in a very rude way that she had me eating from the palm of her hand, and it was entirely fucking true. Sometimes in interviews near the end of the 2022 season I got distracted by looking at her. Maybe it was unprofessional, but it was a distraction from just how bad things were in my professional life. I desperately needed to make it to the end of the season, and seeing my wife smile at me made the difference.

There were points where things were so bad I didn’t even want to go to the sim. I didn’t want to go to the MTC, I felt betrayed every time I walked through the doors. It didn’t seem like there was a point. I knew I didn’t have a seat for 2023, so all the extra hours I was putting in meant nothing. But it was part of my job to get out of bed and show up and do my job with a fake smile on my face, even when I was exhausted. And because her job was to be my assistant, Em took hers as seriously as I was taking mine. She became my shadow, even when she was still recovering from the start of that awful year. She knew I needed her more than ever, so the woman who hates waking up before she has to got up before me, got my shakes ready while I stretched, made breakfast while I worked out, ate with me and then drove me from London to Woking. Three hours in a car on days she didn’t have to go back to London, six on days she did. And she did it without complaint.

Em bought a car that she was more comfortable driving so she could bring me to work and make sure I had the support I needed. Some days she stayed in Woking, hopping between coffee shops to work. Sometimes she went back to London for meetings or to check on stuff, and then she’d go back and pick me up. She listened to me rambling about how things were and let me rant about what wasn’t great. We’d get home and she’d make my favourite meals to make me happy. Mum gave her recipes so I got home cooking and she cooked all of it. She loaded the dishwasher after dinner while I looked for something to watch on tv before going to bed. And even then she didn’t let herself sleep until I was asleep, in case a nightmare started so she could wake me up. I was useless in our relationship for a large part of those few months, but she didn’t give up on me. On us.

People asked how I came back after the summer break when everyone knew what was going on and looked like a new man in 2021. Em happened and I won Monza for her. And then in 2022 when things felt even worse and harder she loved me more and pulled me through. I love her and she loves me and we promised over that summer that we wouldn’t let ourselves lose each other, that we were together forever. Two weeks off with her in LA where we exorcised our demons happened and it was perfect.

My Emmy is the woman who kept me from blowing up my life and my career by quitting in the middle of the 2022 season. She’s been everything except a distraction when it counts, and if she was a distraction then she was the best distraction of my life. But it felt like the cycle was repeating itself somehow. The first time I had no idea what to do to protect Em apart from hiding us away and it nearly ruined us. But now I knew perfectly well what I needed to do, and it was to prove I could win that championship, even when looking after my beautiful little brunette distractions.

So I went and won a championship for my girls.

[verona2314]

Hello dear readers, new chapter available!

Here is a short extract, I hope you enjoy it.

(I deeply apologize for my absence. I took this time to attend to some personal matters and also to re-read the story and revise previous chapters. Thank you so much for continuing to read!)

Alastor   

 “I must admit, dear judge, that pain grimace is not common on your face, but it’s certainly… interesting,”he let slip without thinking, almost in a whisper. What other expressions could he provoke on that face? What light could he bring to those eyes? His fingers tingled as he felt Victoria's skin beneath them. He couldn't resist the impulse to gently caress her cheek with his thumb. How had he ever pretended to keep his distance from her? It was simply impossible. The judge's presence was comforting to him, and he was no longer willing to give that up, much less share it.

     He was tired of thinking, of repressing whatever it was he was feeling. He let out a sigh and leaned his forehead lightly against Victoria's head, inhaling her scent while feeling a warmth spread in his chest. It was a simple gesture, but it brought him more peace than he had felt in years. It reminded him, somehow, of a time he had forgotten, a place where things hadn’t always been so dark.

     She remained still, but she hadn’t made any effort to pull away yet. Alastor imagined Victoria saw this as another attempt to manipulate her on his part, that perhaps she would never fully trust him. But right now, that didn’t matter to him. Why was he acting so vulnerable? His mind immediately went to Joseph Cooper and the hooded figure. Instinctively, he moved his arms from the judge’s shoulders to wrap her in an embrace. No. He wasn’t going to lose this. Not now that he was beginning to enjoy it. He clenched his teeth as he tried to reconnect with the usual coldness that protected him. However, every time he tried to harden himself, to shut that emotional door, something pulled him back to her.

     “This isn’t like you,” he heard her say, and he smiled bitterly. Of course, it wasn’t. But something about her made the impossible feel close, tangible.

     “No. It’s not. But it’s comforting, and I fear I’m getting used to it,” he admitted, surprised at himself. And for a moment, he didn’t care. Victoria was there, in his arms, and for some reason, she hadn’t pushed him away. “Isn’t it a friend’s duty to comfort another with a hug when they need it?” he added, trying to downplay the situation.

     “Sure, but are you comforting me? Or the other way around?” the judge asked, holding back a laugh.

     “Are you assuming I don’t need comfort?” the radio host responded, enjoying the moment.

     “You weren’t the one who almost got stabbed today,” she said with a humorous tone.

     Alastor’s breath caught for a moment, replaying the events in his mind. He had underestimated Joseph. He had carelessly turned his back. And thinking about it more, he felt that Joseph had actually tried to stab him because of his provocation, and Victoria had simply intervened. There was no way to be sure, but that didn’t mean he was going to ignore the doubt or the gratitude he felt.

     Alastor pulled her back slightly to look at her face. Although her expressions were calm, he could see a storm of questions in her eyes. She seemed confused, perhaps even worried. He wanted to believe that Victoria cared more than she was willing to admit, because that allowed him to imagine that someone genuinely cared about him, despite his twisted nature. Could he make the judge’s face beam with joy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST!!

@slytherin4everer

@empressofashedd

[m4r5h4ll]

My sexuality is to the point, I want sexual intimacy, but sex is just not even on the table, in the room, in this city, or even on this continent. I’ve become so disinterested in sex but the idea of living for so long without it now, its an idea so foreign that scares me to the point I will move my entire life to get away from it.

I want the intimacy that Hannibal and Will had, where they never had sex, because their type of intimacy was just being in each other’s presence. The type of intimacy they could have just by grabbing the other by the forearm or shoulder. By making out just by looking at each other, being so infatuated by the other where you struggle to pay attention to anything else. But also giving the other the space to live their own life.

I want the intimacy Sophie and Howl shared where it was just pure sweet innocent intimacy, tender love where it wasn’t impacted by external forces and was so sweet, and it was love through acts of service and words rather than any sort of sexual relations.

I want the devotion Mal had to Cobbs to where even after all the guilt of planting the seed of paranoia in her brain that led to her death, Cobbs still thought of her so much that even through each layer of inception, she was so strong in his subconscious that she shattered the stability of each layer of inceptions throughout the movie, how all she wants is to be with him again.

I want this kind of intimacy but its so damn hard now because not all, but most teen/young adult relationships are built on sexual relations. And before you come for my throat, I know NOT ALL relationships are built on sex and that stuff, but its more common. I just want and old fashioned kind of love where its just spending time together, you have your own space, but when you’re together, its just the two of you. I want sneaking out in the middle of the night to go hold hands while walking around town and just talk. I want going for a walk together as a date, I want sitting in the grass with a bottle of water and our pedal bikes a few feet away. A love where sex isn’t necessary and isn’t a priority and can wait until later.

Both relationships I’ve been in were sort of like this, but there wasn’t enough effort put in. There was no sexual intimacy, but there was no sweet innocent intimacy either, and now due to the way I feel like this, I feel as though it’s gonna be impossible to find something like this, as being so inexperienced is becoming uncommon now. And especially finding another person like this in the middle of fucking Alberta and in my age range. It makes me lose hope. Especially asking for a guy or girl to see me as a man rather than a woman is hard enough, let alone for finding anyone interested in dating a transguy, who isn’t a total weirdo, asshole, or someone with severe issues is tough.

I just want sweet intimacy with someone, where sex isn’t a priority. I want to be recognized as a man and not fetishized or be seen as repulsive. I know its dramatic, but with the way my life is going, being bombarded by school and work and how when school’s done I’m gonna be too busy with work and travelling for work I’m not gonna have time for people, let alone a relationship. I want someone who’s patient with me and who is willing to wait and let me warm up and to actually be comfortable with them. There’s so many factors with me that are so confusing to me let alone other people. I just want someone who’s okay with waiting. Everyone in this generation just rushes and it makes me feel more alone than anything else.

Just a thought, but yk something that can’t go to my friends or snapstory, and yk, I know none of you here so here we go ig.

[sailtomarina]

Hermione's Adventures in Charlieland

She was going to kill Charlie Weasley.

Not only did he have the nerve to call her out here in the middle of Circe knows where, away from the perfect cocoon that was her multitude of pillows and blankets, but he’d also vanished shortly after arriving with only an “I’ll be right back!” thrown over his shoulder.

Now she stood at the foot of a steep and rocky hill with a line of trees at her back. The dense growth made it almost impossible to see between them, much less anticipate any sort of danger they might hide. Perhaps she should be flattered that Charlie thought her competent enough to stand alone. Were Hermione any one of the other visiting researchers on the Reserve, he likely would have kept her within arm’s length, or, preferably, not awakened her at all.

But, she was who she was, and Charlie knew he could trust her. He always had.

Her sigh came out louder than she’d intended. Berating herself, Hermione willed her heart to silence and listened intently for anything that might have been alerted to her presence. She heard…

Echoing winds, ebbing and flowing, creaking trees in the aftermath, her own breath, despite her attempts otherwise.

“The area’s clear.”

She slipped as she spun around, landing with a hard thud on her bum. Hands reached out to grip her forearms, and she looked up into the wide blue eyes of her errant companion.

“Sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean to startle you!”

He helped her up to her feet, after which she brushed at her clothing in an effort to cool the heat flooding her face. By the time she’d managed to gather herself, she felt the first flickers of annoyance beginning to take over her earlier embarrassment.

“Where did you go? You didn’t tell me anything before disappearing on me. I don’t even know where we  are.” She eyed him sternly. 

For once, he looked ashamed. It wasn’t a common look she saw on him, confidence and excitement being the usual mainstays.

“I’m truly sorry for all the secrecy, and for leaving you without any other info. I wanted to scan the area before showing you what I found.” Despite his blunder, he spoke just as quickly as usual, giving away just how eager he was for whatever it was he’d discovered. Hermione couldn’t help herself from rising to the bait. It had been quite a while since anything had caught her by surprise, and even longer since she’d gone on anything even remotely resembling an adventure.

“Go on, then. What’s this all about?”

He flashed her a grin, the sort that never failed to make her stomach flop and her limbs feel like they’d gone to jelly. When he smiled like that, his entire face lit up and made him look younger despite the scruffy facial hair and tattoos twining up his neck. For what had to be the thousandth time, Hermione shut down any curiosity about how far those tattoos extended.

“Come on.” Then, to her surprise, he held out his hand.

She blinked stupidly at it, like she’d never seen a hand before in such a manner. His palms and fingers were wide. More ink banded around the wrist. She half expected him to say something along the lines of there being unsteady ground, or maybe a silly comment about wanting to hold a “pretty girl’s hand”--his brothers certainly didn’t hesitate to do so. She’d long become accustomed to their harmless flirting, knowing there wasn’t anything meaningful behind the comments.

When she continued to stare, he finally reached down to engulf her hand with his own and anchor her to his side. He gave it a light squeeze, then took off.

She could have pulled away, but she didn’t. Holding Charlie’s hand felt…nice. Secure.

He guided her around rocks and, when they came across a shallow ravine, he went in first to lift her down and up before climbing up the ledge and taking her hand once more.

Hermione was no stranger to hikes, had even done a fair amount of her own scrambles, so didn’t need his assistance. She also knew he wasn’t the sort to have his feelings hurt were she to say so. Still, his hand was warm and she let herself be guided along, too caught up in the mystery of the midnight stroll.

“Is that a doorway?” she asked, spotting what looked to be a man-made hole in the hillside ahead of them.

“It is,” he replied, “and used to be guarded by a Red Cap, but it’s gone now.”

She shuddered. Hearing the creature was absent did little to assuage her wariness, because wherever they gathered usually meant bloodshed. Human bloodshed. 

There were runes carved along the edges of the opening, which she paused to study. They were quite ancient, but she could still pick out phrases here and there. Possession. Mouth, or breath? Harvest. An odd combination, really. “What exactly is this place?”

“It looks like it used to be a hiding place for wizards that eventually fell into disuse, but that’s also why I brought you along. I was hoping you might have a better answer.”

She fell behind Charlie as he made his way down the stone steps, his wand up and lighting the path. The air smelled dry and stale, which tracked given what she’d been told.

“Careful with the last step. I’m not completely convinced the Red Cap’s gone for good since things have moved around a bit every time I’ve come by, but we should be safe for now.” He stabilised her as she skipped the final stone, which invited a broken ankle with its wide crack right down the middle.

“You inspire such confidence,” Hermione teased. 

“Yes, well, we both know I brought you along for protection as much as your brains.” He added in a tiny nudge and wink.

She gasped. “Charlie Weasley, are you mocking my combative capabilities?”

“I wouldn’t dare. I’ve seen the end results of your duels with my brothers, not to mention the Tamers on the Reserve who didn’t know any better.” His hand spasmed around hers before he continued in a more sombre tone. “I only wish your hand wasn’t forced at all. I wish I could’ve stopped them before things got that far.”

“Charlie…” she trailed off, not knowing quite how to reply.

“I know, I know. It’s not like it’s my place to be your knight, or that you’d even want that, lioness and all.” And just like that, he lightened the mood again with the little nickname only he used. “Here we are.”

Over the course of their conversation, they’d passed a couple of forking paths through which Charlie had continued walking without any hesitation. Now they stood before an arch similarly adorned as the original with runes and what felt like the vestiges of a broken ward.

Stepping inside, she sucked in a sharp breath.

Multiple large chests lay open, filled to the brim with gems and gold that glittered defiantly in the dark. A depression in the ground filled with rags made it clear where exactly the Red Cap had slept, and it, too, was surrounded by even more baubles that sparkled as the light from their wands swept over the room.

Hermione felt a crawling sensation along her exposed side. She quickly panned her hand over and nearly screamed again in her fright. Charlie caught her against his chest as she backed up, one hand on her shoulder and the other wand up in a defensive position. 

“Merciful Morgana! That scared me!” Looking back at her was none other than her own reflection. Neither she nor Charlie backed down as they took in their mirrored stances.

“You’re so tiny.” 

He barked out a laugh at the immediate jab she sent back into him.

“It only looks that way because you eat your weight in food.”

It was as she studied the curve of his lips at her comment that it struck her how absurdly clean the glass surface was. There should have been dust. Another glance around the room supported her suspicions. Everything else was covered in dust. Was the mirror charmed?

“Do you remember how you told me about the mirror you and the boys found your first year at Hogwarts?” Charlie asked, bringing her attention back to his reflection and the way his body felt curved around her own. He still hadn’t stepped away, but neither had she.

“Yes, and?”

“I never told you then, but I came across it, too, when I was a student. A good friend of mine said it showed your desires.”

Was that a blush she could see crawling up the skin of his neck?

“So what are you saying? That this mirror is the same?”

He shook his head, the motion of it gently swaying her. “No, nothing like that. I do suspect there’s more to this mirror than what we see. Call it one of my hunches.”

“Let me just…” Hermione waved her wand in an arc, casting spells of revealing and detection. They all came back blank. For all intents and purposes, the mirror was just a mirror. “Hm.”

She was reminded of Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There, one of her favourite books as a child. What if this wasn’t so much a mirror, but a portal into another dimension? Would she be sucked in if she touched it?

“What are you thinking?” 

Charlie’s voice reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She couldn’t just go and test out theories, possibly leaving him behind or, worse, dragging him down with her. Any ideas of touching the glass fled her mind and she settled on a different course of action.

“We should ward the cave and submit a report,” she decided. It was the smart thing to do. “Even if I’m not detecting any traps or curses, that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“You know I am.”

His laugh shook her body. She didn’t want to step away and break their connection, despite what she’d said. 

“You know what I think?” The low purr of his question in her ear sent tingles up and down her spine. 

Her reply came out barely louder than a whisper. “What?”

“That this mirror does show our desires, because all I see in it is us.” He cradled her against him now, the band of his arm around her waist a grounding force. His next question nearly dropped her knees out from underneath her. “May I kiss you, Hermione?”

She slowly turned her head up to look at him, their lips so close as to almost touch. They breathed each other in, time seeming to slow in anticipation of her answer. A slight tilt of her head to slant their lips together, but he pulled back with a click of his tongue.

“Words, lioness.”

“Just kiss me, Charlie.”

His cheek twitched, in amusement, perhaps, then there was only his lips on hers, shockingly warm in the cool air, his arms drawing her closer as she turned into his embrace. His chest felt like a stone wall for her breasts to press against. He groaned into the kiss, almost as if in pain. She drank him in eagerly, falling deeper and deeper into everything that was Charlie Weasley.

They were so wrapped up in one another that neither of them paid heed to the direction in which they leaned until she felt a cool sensation along her back. She broke the kiss to look behind her.

“What the–”

Shimmering liquid gave way to their intrusion, entire globs of the mirror reaching out like limbs to loop around them both. Charlie scrambled to grab at the gilded frame, but to no avail. The second he reached out, quicksilver surrounded the arm. They were helpless, wands similarly covered with the mysterious substance and most of their bodies already sinking into the frame.

“Charlie–”

“I’ve got you!”

A loud popping sound, like a plug being pulled from a drain, then the mirror's surface rippling with impact before settling back into stillness. The reflection showed nothing of the witch and wizard who’d so foolishly touched the magical object.

The vault, now devoid of intruders, did what it had long waited to do. Power of an unknown source surged through the runes, sending the blankets on the floor and the dirt and dust that had built up over hundreds of years out of the cave with a rush of wind. The only remaining evidence that Hermione and Charlie had been there at all disappeared without a trace. Another surge, and the wards restored themselves.

As for the fate of our would-be adventurers?

Well, that’s another story, entirely.

2131 WC

4.23.24 WWW Hump Day prompt: “Monsters, mirrors, Mischief”

Cross-posted on FB, Tumblr, and AO3

Well, this one completely ran away from me. I struggled with the prompt at the start, uncertain on which direction to take with it. I knew I wanted to focus on Charlie, and Hermione is a comfort-POV for me, so the pairing was clear. The combination, however, of the three Ms stumped me. I hope the path I did take wasn’t too confusing, nor too forced.