#pasties on the path

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #michael gavey x reader

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost in the Woods (dp x dc)

"Why are we here again?" Tucker asked as he rearranged his backpack straps.

"Because you lost a bet and Gotham Woods are my best chance of seeing a real satanic ritual," Sam answered.

“Hey, no,” Danny protested. “We said no spooky business. This is strictly for fun.”

“Fun,” Tucker repeated, dryly. “This is how most horror movies start, you know. Camping in the woods at night.”

“I highly doubt there’s any serial killer out there,” the halfa soothed. “I checked the news. There are no escape convicts right now.”

“The Riddler’s out,” Sam refuted.

“Can you imagine that pasty twig-man willingly trudging through the woods though?” Danny asked.

“I probably go out more often than him,” Tucker conceded.

“Which means we’re all good,” Danny concluded.

The trio walked a bit further before reaching the spot they had brought the rest of their bags and dropped their heavy backpacks beside it. Tucker fell down beside them before raising a hand to chase away a mosquito that was buzzing around.

“I hate this already,” he whined as he tried to smack the bug.

“Get up,” Sam said as she nudged him with her foot. “We gotta get the tent up.”

With a groan, he stood up and they got to work on the tent. It didn’t take very long, thanks to Danny’s experience in pitching Fenton Work tents, which had come from the numerous times his family had gone camping.

“What now?” The halfa asked.

“Why don’t we walk around a little?” Sam suggested.

“Can’t we take a minute to breathe?” Tucker complained.

“It’ll be fun,” Danny encouraged his friend as he offered a hand getting to his feet again.

"I'm beginning to think you don't know what that means."

They grabbed some water and snacks before setting towards one of the closest hiking trails. It was supposed to be an easy quick walk, but as time went on the path became more and more wild and overgrown, they started doubting the way. By the time they had stopped, the path was now nonexistent.

“We’re lost,” Tucker said. “The sun is setting and we’re lost in the creepy satanic woods.”

“First of all,” Sam started. “I have a compass, and second, we have Danny. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh I see how it is,” the halfa dramatically said. “You guys are just using me for my powers.”

Before the goth could make a proper answer to that, Tucker shushed them both before dragging them towards some thick bushes. A few moments later they could see two men in long robes carrying a third, unconscious man in a black and blue outfit.

“Those goddamned bats,” one of the ones wearing cultist robes said as he struggled to carry the unconscious man’s legs.

“Shut up and move faster,” the other cultist said. “The Grandmaster said to get him to the Barn before sundown.”

“I’m trying my best here,” the first one said. “Those robes don’t exactly make it easy.”

“They’re ceremonial!”

“Right now they’re a ceremonial pain in my butt,” the first cultist retorted which made the other sputter.

As they moved passed the three teens’ hiding spot, their voices faded in the distance. The ensuing silence was broken by Sam's “Dibs on any skulls when we raid the evil lair”.

“Why can we never have normal vacations?” Danny mumbled as he let his face fall in his hands.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #btw I'm imagining Dick as the bat but any would work too #Also I find it fascinating that Gotham has a giant forest just on the outskirts of the city #I cannot begin to imagine the amount of cult sacrifices that happen there yearly #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

[ameliathornromance]

“(Y/N), what is that?”

Your Orc Boyfriend pointed to the bundle in your arms. A small, innocent smile crept onto your lips. “I… Brought back a baby?”

You had been on a stroll, alone. Your Orc Boyfriend was stuck doing boring wood chopping work. Normally, you would read, but you had just finished reading your favourite book for the third time and there were no reading materials available for you. So, you decided to go on a walk.

It was a rather new pass time for you.

You enjoyed some alone time, away from the others and the quietness of nature. Despite finding comfort in the grunts and growls of Orcs working and thudding about the camp, there were moments when you yearned for a more subdued ambiance, particularly at night.

And so that’s how your walks began.

You knew and followed only the safest Orc routes through the countryside.

But as you walked, faint cries called to you. You had frowned. A baby, crying? Mindful of a trap, you tiptoed in the direction of the crying.

“There are dangers out in the woods. Do not stray from our regular paths.” Your Boyfriend had warned you before you left.

All kinds of things lurked in the woods, from fellow Orc camps to Witches, you could never be too cautious. Anyone would do anything to capture a lone human woman. Regardless of where she'd come from.

Your feet were silent against the moss covered ground. The cries drew closer, and closer, and that’s when you found it. A bundle held the tiniest form you’d ever seen. The baby was pasty pale, wriggling and screaming at the top of it's lungs.

You swiftly stooped and scooped up the poor thing, cradling it. “It’s okay!” You shushed. “You’re okay! I’m here, don’t worry.” Looking over your shoulder, you knew you couldn't just leave the poor thing alone out there.

So you made your way back home, baby in hand. Other Orcs gave you odd looks upon your return with the baby, but no one said anything.

The baby had calmed down by this point and appeared content to have finally received someone's attention.

Noticing that your boyfriend was still busy at work with wood chopping, you made your way back to your shared tent and waited for him to finish.

In the meantime, you wrapped up the child in animal skins and tried to think of something to feed it.

Your boyfriend came in later in the evening. And here you are now.

“It was all alone, someone left it in the forest…” you explained. Worry crept over you.

Finding food had become more challenging. Winter was about to set in. The crops were dying, animals were being herded into more secluded places.

The entire encampment fought to provide enough food and water for everyone. And now you had brought a new born.

Your Orc Boyfriend said nothing. He approached, towering above both you and the small thing in your arms. You expected him to be angry. Upset because you brought back another mouth to feed.

“And it was all alone?” He asked you. His voice rumbled through your chest. All you could manage in reply was a weak nod.

“Humans are pathetic.” Your Orc Boyfriend scoffed.

Before you could stop him, your Orc had scooped the baby up in his own arms and peered down at it. “How could they abandon something so vulnerable?”

“You’re not angry?” You asked, surprised.

“No. Even an Orc would ensure the child's safety.” He grumbled. The baby stared up at him, expressionless. Before a huge grin over took its face, hands stretched out.

Your Orc chuckled, holding a finger out for the baby to take. It did so and giggled, flexing the finger up and down with ease.

"What about food?" You asked, placing a hand on your Orc's forearm. The both of you watched the baby investigate your partners finger.

"I will deal with that. Since this is new born, I will make sure it gets the care it needs." Once the baby had lost interest in his hand, your Orc Boyfriend cupped your face. "You did the right thing, my love. I'm glad you brought it back."

Your heart swelled with pride, "thank you."

"We shall raise it to be a strong and powerful warrior!" Your Orc grinned, tusks jutting out of his bottom lip. He raised the baby high in the air, it let out a shriek of delight.

You sighed as your Orc returned to cooing at the baby. You truly had a wonderful boyfriend, didn't you?

Sequel

#orc fiction #orc x reader #monster x female #monster x you #orc boyfriend #orc romance #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #orc #orc x female!reader #orc x human

[an-idyllic-novelist]

qin shi huang with yoriichi tsugikuni!fem!reader headcanons

warnings: spoilers from manga, ooc, slow burn friends-to-lovers troupe

Special thanks to @onecantsimply, @yellow-snark and @thatstrangesheep for their feedback and help with these headcanons! Enjoy! :)

Even in death, Qin Shi Huang was an emperor whom everyone respected as the ‘king who began everything’. He had reunited the annexed nations of China, a guiding light who led his people bringing peace and prosperity after almost a millennium of strife. Now, within the vast afterlife known as Valhalla, he reigned over a substantial amount of territory alongside his successors, working as a cohesive council when conflict arose.

Today, however, he has come to handle the problem on his own terms. For the last two months, men, women, and even children have gone missing from the foot of the northeastern mountains. Given the harsh environment, it is not too odd to believe that the cause of their disappearance might be an attack from a wild animal, angering the spirits who guard the terrain, or just simply got lost.

But the disemboweled bodies told the emperor a different story: there is a beast devouring his people, and it is certainly not a bear. For a split moment, Qin Shi Huang feared that Chi You had somehow returned from beyond its miserable grave and had come back to take revenge on the ‘insolent whelp’ who would not bow before its bony knees as payment for being accepted as an emperor of China.

If that were truly the case, though, there would be more corpses strewn about the mountain base than the current number of victims. Qin Shi Huang had already defeated the god, and he will do it again to protect his subjects. Such is the road he leads as an emperor, after all~.

So imagine his surprise when he comes across a six-armed being with pasty skin and glowing golden sclera, hunched over the corpse of a man cradling his child. It was not Chi You, but a demon. A demon that was the stuff of legends many years ago, only for them to suddenly vanish and become nothing more than a bedtime story to keep children from sneaking off at night.

And now, here is the great emperor, face-to-face with this drooling beast. Qin Shi Huang frowned, bending his sinewy body into an offensive position. Just when he was about to launch an attack, his opponent’s head rolled off its shoulders. He blinked, watching the demon’s body collapse onto the grass, twitching rapidly before disintegrating into dust. Hm? He hadn’t even moved! Unless the presence of an emperor is that powerful before a demon that it self destructs?

“Are you all right?” Qin Shi Huang then saw a figure standing where the demon had been, sword unsheathed. At first glance, she seemed like an ordinary traveler by the way she dressed, but the emperor knew that she was certainly not an ordinary person. Not from the tremendous amount of chi circulating around this woman’s body and the sword fastened at her waist.

She was a warrior as Chun Yan had been.

He grinned. “Hao!”

[Eye Color] orbs blinked at him in confusion, tilting her head to the side as she repeated the word. “Does that mean…you are hurt?”

Zori sandals stomped against the bloodied soil as she strode over to him, astounding Qin Shi Huang with her agility. She frowned slightly, her eyes scanning over his body. “You…are all right, it appears.” She glanced up at him. “I…apologize if I had gotten…your clothes dirty. You are a young lord, yes?”

Qin Shi Huang frowned. “Buhao.”

“Hm?”

He raised his right hand, pressing his middle and index fingers together before he pointed them towards the ground, the golden nail guards glowing beneath the moonlight. “Humble yourself. You are in the presence of an emperor. Be grateful I have not executed you for your impudence.”

“You…are an emperor?”

That was how the greatest emperor in all of Chinese history crossed paths with the greatest Demon Slayer in history, the Mother of All Breathing Techniques, the Sun Hashira [First Name] [Last Name].

In your defense, you never would have guessed that the man who had been endangered moments ago had not been a feudal lord looking for trouble in these woods, but an emperor who had come to kill the demon devouring his people.

You did apologize for being rude, and politely asked His Imperial Majesty if there was a town close by. You lived deep in the mountains, though in the opposite direction of his territory. It would take about two days to return should you leave now. That was only if you were lucky enough to not come across any more demons on your journey back home.

To your surprise, this emperor all but commanded you to follow him to his palace. He boasted that it was the largest one in Valhalla, with the finest food and rooms available for only esteemed guests and members of his court. However, since you did humble yourself before him, he will make an exception and allow a weary traveler to stay in the guest quarters for the night. You thanked him, trailing after the man through the woods to the crowded streets of a bustling city and right up the stone footsteps of an extravagant palace the likes of which you had never seen before.

You dared to say that it was much bigger than the Ubuyashiki compound.

With a clap of his jeweled hands, a group of young maidens in flowing robes appeared before him. He ordered them to make sure you received the most excellent care, including running a warm bath and mending your damaged clothes. Before you could have a moment to say something, you were immediately whisked away to another part of the palace until dinner was ready.

The food was just as extravagant as the clothes that the maidens had dressed you in. It was almost too much, but you dared to not insult your host. Instead, you bowed your head to him in gratitude and ate as much as you could without being too rude. Thankfully you could recall some of your table manners from when you had been alive, before becoming a Hashira and just the daughter of a prestigious household in the Sengoku era.

Between the raucous laughter and idle chatter amongst the others who dined at this table, you had almost expected to be asked to leave or escorted out of the banquet hall so that the emperor could speak to his fellow countrymen freely without the presence of an outsider.

Instead, His Imperial Majesty asked you many questions. Who you are, why were you in the woods, how did you defeat the demon, etc. You answered them to the best of your ability, humbly explaining that you had once been a Demon Slayer and trained to exterminate the ones who came out at night to consume human flesh. There is nothing special about you.

You had simply worked hard, protected humanity until your untimely death. There was no need for him to know of your ability to see the Transparent World, much less the Breathing Techniques of a Demon Slayer.

Some secrets were meant to be just that: secrets. And you were bad at explaining things; it had been a miracle that the Hashiras, those whom you had worked alongside all those years ago, could comprehend your words and adapt the Sun Breathing techniques into their own variations: Water, Insect, Flame, Wind, Stone, and so forth.

Again the emperor surprised you; he seemed intrigued by the Breathing Styles and continued to ask questions about how to use it until the handmaidens escorted you to the guest quarters later that night, although His Imperial Majesty wished to keep speaking even in a drunken stupor.

The following morning, you thanked the emperor for his hospitality and left the palace. An armed entourage followed you out to the city’s borders to make sure you would not try to attack His Imperial Majesty nor the citizens. You thanked them for their vigilance and hard work before beginning the journey towards your humble home.

You were certain that this was the first and only time you would come across royalty and thought nothing of it in the days that went by upon returning, weeks becoming almost two months since the demon attack. You would either be tending to the crops or practicing your swordsmanship. Eventually, it was time for you to venture down from the mountains to restock on your supplies.

The villagers who lived at the mountain’s edge were kind people. Some of them were elderly and required assistance with manual labor or errands. You did not mind helping them, and were quite hesitant to accept anything from them, especially rice or other precarious commodities.

Most were merchants who traveled a great distance from the village to the city to sell their wares. How could you even consider taking that away from them? To your dismay, they were quite stubborn and practically shoved it in your hands.

The ‘payment’ from the villagers, including the usual amount of items you purchased from the vendors, became too much for you to carry without making two trips up and down the mountain.

You were almost considering having to borrow a cart when a voice called out to you.

Turning around, your eyes widened in shock at the appearance of the emperor Qin Shi Huang walking down the muddied main road, flanked by four or five armed soldiers. He recognized you immediately, almost running with a wide grin on his face.

He’d been wanting to continue his conversation with you, yet due to his workload in the palace prevented him from venturing out sooner. You had also been difficult to track down as no one seemed to be aware that a Demon Slayer wearing hanafuda earrings existed in Valhalla except for a young whelp and his little sister living in the floating cities alongside the Valkyries.

But now, he’s here and ready to chat~. You should be grateful he had traveled such a long way to visit. He is an emperor after all. He was willing to help carry the supplies up the mountains if it meant he had an opportunity to challenge you to a fight and idly chatter over drinks.

Upon explaining that you did not drink alcohol, the emperor told you not to fret. He’s come prepared. Revealing a large jug of corked liquor in his hand with a wide grin, you realized that he would not go away even if you politely asked him too.

So with great reluctance, you guided Qin and his entourage up the mountains, some of them carrying your supplies.

A peaceful day became chaotic. And from this single afternoon of idle chatter and sparring with an incredibly powerful fighter transitioned to an unlikely friendship. Qin Shi Huang was nothing like Sumiyoshi, that much was certain.

Where Sumiyoshi was a humble man blessed to have a family in turbulent times, the boastful emperor had been an unwanted child from the moment he was born. If it had not been for his mentor and mother, that meek little boy would not have the confidence to move forward and pave the road for his people to live in peace, let alone find a method to deal with the Zhao’s anger aimed at him simply because he was from royalty.

He had many children sired from his concubines but he never took an empress, much to his council’s annoyance even in the afterlife. Chun Yan too, of all people!

Yet despite such different personalities from two different people who are your friends….you knew they both possessed kindness and empathy. Why else would an emperor continue to maintain contact with you via letters and occasionally visit you in the mountains over the next thirty years?

He’s a man who had led his people into prosperity after all, the king of all kings.

You had lost so much when you were alive…is it truly all right to be selfish and treasure Qin Shi Huang as a friend, an emperor of all people?

Qin Shi Huang quickly discovered that there was more to his new friend than being a calm, unreadable individual who never raised her voice once even when he had been purposely annoying just to gauge a reaction.

The Sun Hashira…she was perfect. A beautiful, complex creature who values integrity and kindness above all else. She did not enjoy fighting, preferring a quiet life away from society than challenging one opponent after another. And like him, she knew what it meant to lose a loved one.

When it came to strength, she once told him, those who are marked like herself will all meet the same fate. He had an idea as to the cryptic meaning behind her words…and he prayed that she would live in this afterlife.

When he revealed his past to her, what he had done as a child until his death, the Sun Hashira simply accepted it all as they say together on the snowy veranda of her small home.

“To live in an era of conflict…there can never be true peace without bloodshed. Your Imperial Majesty had gone through so much….and you were loved deeply by Chun Yan. I wish….I could have met her….and thank her for raising a wonderful, strong son.”

Qin Shi Huang.exe stopped working for a span of five seconds before he tried to hide his embarrassment with a swing of the warm sake that his host had prepared especially for them to celebrate the New Year together.

Another year has come and gone…so why was it that his heart hasn’t stopped hammering against his ribcage?

Bonus Content:

After five years of sending luxurious gifts and love letters, it took a stammering confession from the emperor to convey his feelings towards the Sun Hashira.

Although she did not want to marry right away, she humbly accepted a period of courtship from China’s greatest emperor until it was appropriate to be welcomed as his empress.

Some of his court were pleased that he had finally selected a wife to become the mother of the nation, but there were others who believed that [First Name] was too independent and would not respect the traditions required to follow after becoming an empress.

Needless to say, Qin Shi Huang made an example of the courtiers who dared to disrespect his new wife behind closed doors. His warning also extended to the concubines, should they try to do something malicious out of petty jealousy.

Quality time included sampling delicacies in the garden, sparring matches, and cuddling in his private quarters.

Chun Yan approved of [First Name], congratulating her adoptive son on finding a woman who can keep up with his shenanigans.

The domestic bliss between the emperor and empress never wavered…until Brunhilde approached the palace and asked for their aid to fight against the gods. Both of them.

If it hadn’t been for [First Name]’s benevolence, Qin would have immediately executed the Valkyrie on the spot for her arrogance. Instead he gave her the courtesy and listened to her proposal regarding the event called Ragnarok. A battle royale until one opponent is annihilated.

The emperor would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested, but he had no intention of bringing his Sun Hashira into it. He wanted her to spend this afterlife in peace, not to put her life on the line again.

Alas, his wife was stubborn. He agreed to Brunhilde’s terms so long as she agreed to his terms. Once she left the palace, he pulled his empress into a long talk about this…situation.

Whatever obstacles will come their way, they will face it together. The Sun Hashira isn’t alone anymore.

Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@onecantsimply

@recreationalfanfics

@deathmetalunicorn1

@yellow-snark

@thatstrangesheep

@dance-till-the-death

@staticradiotv​

Honorable mentions:

@myrisan-melodies​

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #qin shi huang #qin shi huang x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv x reader #snv qin shi huang #qin shi huang headcanons #an idyllic novelist #ror x reader #fem reader #snv

[slothgiirl]

an understanding

morpheus x reader. 5k. no use of y/n. yearning. the only thing i know about video game development comes from mythic quest. dont feed ducks bread (its bad for them) morpheus.

“You know feeding ducks bread is bad for them right,” you pointedly tell the stranger in black. The man was wearing 30 layers of black under the midday sun. You had no clue how he could bear wearing a wool coat in this heat. Sweat was already gathering around your forehead and you were in a gauzy shirt. 

“Oh.” His voice was deep, an alluring quality that would’ve made him a perfect audiobook narrator. He doesn’t look up, still hunched over his loaf of french bread: the good kind that was made fresh in store at some local bakery. 

“Mind if I sit here?” You didn’t want to sit on the grass. Lugging a towel on top of your laptop and bag was bad enough so you were really hoping for a bench, even one with no shade. It was just too nice of a day to spend working indoors. 

He doesn’t respond. Tearing another piece of bread, he pops it into his mouth, finally looking up, looking out at the park contemplatively. 

You decide that it’s okay. He didn’t say no.

He was obviously incredibly awkward or maybe didn’t get out much judging by his pasty skin. It was rather unfortunate too. Now that you’d gotten a good look at him he was cute in a way that would’ve thrilled you at twelve when you were wearing studded belts and obsessed with Mary Shelley and Trent Reznor. His hair was a hopeless mess: it’s color so black it seemed to destroy any sunlight that shone on him.

Too bad he was about as interesting as a pet rock.

Even the beta testers who were chronically online, still figuring out women at the ripe old age of twenty six (which you understood as your dating life was no better and all your hopes rested on Hinge) were livelier to talk to.

You were probably being too hard on him, you thought as you opened up the company issue computer. It was the fancy type that bent completely backwards. There were so many dialogue trees to work through. So many paths.

Sitting cross legged on the bench, you get back to work and try not to think about the man on the other end of the bench. 

He managed to make eating bread an incredibly depressing act; gaunt as he was, with a forlorn expression in his clear blue eyes. 

Clearly the guy was going through something. 

Refocusing on your work, you turn up the screen brightness and pull up your saved files for Project: Dracul City.

There were notes.

Bottle: get sent to old lady Constancia and gain +1 luck token 

Newspaper: uncover school turned shelter LORE 

Right. 

“Thirsty now, are we dearie,” you utter under your breath. You worked best like this, saying the lines out loud. At the office, no one batted an eye, but you’d gotten plenty of looks at cafes. 

No. That was too fairytale-esque. This was more survival horror. The words rich and velvet were also on the moodboard. 

“A bottle of wine to soften the blow eh?” You frowned. It sounded too young, too flirty. Old Lady Constancia ran a black market shop in the game. 

“Well then, a bit of liquor for the road? Better than anything in the tavern.” 

Again, it was wrong. The wrong feel for the setting.

“No need to ask how your night is going then.” There. You grin a little, reading over the dialogue tree that led here, skimming over Lady Constancia’s lines. There’d be no voice actors for this so the diction would have a lot to convey.

“What.”

“Huh,” you look up from your screen. You’d completely forgotten you were sharing the bench, speaking too loudly. 

“You were saying.” The man looks over at you for the first time. His gaze is no longer distant as he studies you. It was obvious you held his full attention in spite of how cold his demeanor was. 

“Nothing,” you laugh nervously, “I just-it’s something I do while working. Say what I’m writing to see if it makes sense. It’s a really good trick for dialogue. Sometimes what sounds good in my head sounds really awful to my ears. It was advice I got years ago in school. Really fucking helpful though.”

“You are a writer?”

“Ha, I wish,” you scrunch your nose feeling yourself blush. “Well, sometimes. I don’t know. I always wanted to work in video games and thought writing for them would be cool. And yeah, every now and then I think I’ve got a novel in me but I like my job. Sure-I’m not lead in anything yet but it’s fun to flesh out these characters and help build a world where people can escape into. Just look at early fallout, Kentucky Route Zero’s a really good one. . .” Your own sincerity embarrassed you. “I know,” you look down at your screen, the blinking | waiting for your next words, “most people play to blow things up and kill lines of code but, I really do think it means something to people. Give them a world to play in, create, dream. . .yeah.” God you rambling so bad. “I can stop if it bothers you?”

There’s the slightest hint of interest in the subtle relaxation of his expression, “Not at all,” he replies, putting aside the bread he had left, “There is nothing frivolous in striving to inspire people.” 

His words catch you off guard. He’d been so distant before, you were expecting a brush off. “Well maybe this line won’t impact someone but you never know what characters players latch onto.” Mariska Lutz’s tapes haunted you for months after playing Bioshock for the first time. 

The man does not reply again, watching the ducks hop into the murky water. 

You return to your work, making an effort to keep your mumblings quiet. 

It’s not until the battery low notification pops up on your screen that you look up again, shutting your laptop and stretching your legs out. Your left foot tingles hellishly, having fallen asleep. 

You look over, only to find that the man had left without a word, without making a sound. It was unsurprising. When you worked you got tunnel vision. That was the reason your pot of pinto beans had burned before. No enfrijoladas for you that day. 

Well, he had certainly been a character. 

*****

 You escape a hectic office where you’d spent the past week during crunch time as the demo went live, a short teaser of the gameplay for corporate who would never even play the game but wanted to see evidence that money would be made when the game released in time for October aka when everyone would be over school and the spooky month would fit the game’s design. You’d brought a tote bag with your lunch and snacks from the office. Nothing hit the same as lays with salsa valentina though you would like to know who kept using your bottle. You’d labelled it. As a last resort you’d taken to stashing it in your desk when you knew you’d be working from home. 

July. 

Kids were chasing the poor ducks back into the pond. A woman in leopard print roller skates took on hills like a pro. 

You liked the warmth of sunlight on your skin. 

You still wore sunscreen though. 

It’s Thursday but the park is packed. You try to look for any spot that has some shade, an open seat so you can enjoy a hard earned lunch. Your fingers have cramped from all the typing you’ve done in the last few days. You haven’t checked in the mirror but you feel like roadkill. 

It was about three in the morning when you’d started using eye drops to keep going, but the meeting was happening. You’d done everything you could for your team.

No luck.

The moms were out in full force today, phone in hand as their kids ran wild. 

Then- 

You spot the same man from your last visit to this particular park. He looks the same, only his coat is longer. It was like he was trying to get heat stroke. 

Well, the trick to adulthood was just going for it. Sharing a bench wasn’t the end of the world. 

You walk over. 

“Hello again,” you wave, “mind if I sit here?” You could always keep looking. There was plenty of time before you had to rush back to work. 

“No.”

You plop down, leaving space for not only Jesus but all his homeboys too. “Thanks. I feel like everyone keeps having the same idea as me, but I guess it’s summer and unless you take the ferry west we don’t have the best beaches.” You open the bag of chips and liberally pour salsa on them, “want one?” 

You hold out the bag, offering up your snacks to the man. He seemed less morose than last time, but was for sure managing to sulk under clear skies. 

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead he reaches into a white paper bag and slowly grabs a pinchful of birdseed to toss over to the ducks. 

You’re left holding the bag of chips long enough for it to be awkward before you shrug and dig in, sucking the salt and salsa from your fingertips. 

This is why you’ll never have a flat stomach. Five minute abs workouts from tiktok were not enough and you sure as hell were not giving up gansitos. There were some in your freezer waiting alongside a pint of ben and jerry’s. 

“You got birdseed,” you note, amused. He had been listening to you. A thrill of excitement bubbles up in your chest. 

He nods, the motion small. 

Your companion was not an expressive man.

“No fat pigeons,” he states neutrally.

You’re puzzled but shrug it off. “I’ve heard you can feed them oatmeal. But I’d probably double check that.” 

Finishing your tiny chip back, you fold it up neatly into a square and pop it back into your tote bag until you can toss it into the trash. Your actual lunch was  a cold tomato and fresh mozzarella pasta. 

Nothing exciting. 

You’d been at the office for practically a week, only going home to have a quick shower and pick up food. You were overtired. Food was fuel. You’d treat yourself tomorrow to breakfast at your favorite cafe. 

You idly eat as people bike by. 

It could use some more sauce. 

Your melancolic acquaintance continues to feed the ducks, lost in his own thoughts.

You stab a grape tomato, deciding to make conversation because what was there to lose. “I didn’t catch your name last time.” Last time, ha. You were really going on like there would be a next time. What was the chance you’d see him again? There’d been students in your same major you’d never shared a class with. 

The question hangs in the air. 

You chew the tomato, the juice spilling out into your mouth. It was tart.

You didn’t think he’d reply and were already considering fleeing. You could finish eating at your desk. 

“Morpheus.”

“Morpheus,” you repeat so you don’t forget, “like the Greek god of sleep?” At least, you think he was the Greek god of sleep. It had been a while, he might have been a mythic hero. 

“Of dreams,” he pauses, turning to you, his clear eyes peering into yours intensely, “and sleep. Yes.” 

It’s only polite to introduce yourself properly now. You wipe the corners of your mouth clean and reply, “Nice to meet you Morpheus,” feeling silly and giddy (flip flopping between the two similar states) as you give him your name. 

Blandly he states, “We have met before.” But with his attention on you, you catch the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.  The corners of his small mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile.

“All the same,” you beam at Morpheus, and finish your long lunch in quiet companionship.

*****

When you’re exhausted, you don’t even dream. Depending on whatever game you are working on, there’s weeks when you’re so mentally drained that you don’t even get under the covers before you’re out like a light. 

You’re pretty sure this is a dream. Your mind rested enough to dream.

It’s usually in the middle of the dream, in the middle of the scenery changing from a party in your grandmother’s house where a bird offers you a peach to you sitting on a trampoline that you remember from summer days at your childhood friend’s house before the trampoline broke and sent you both to the ER where you only had scratches only your friend isn’t there but a programer from your internship and hey maybe this was sign from your subconsciousness that you should text her-

You let out a breath.

The sky turns pink.

Yup, this was a dream.

You lean into it, letting it happen around you, letting your mind wander as the trampoline bounces lightly with Nina’s movements. It jolts your body, your brain swings around in your skull pleasantly like being in those massage chairs. 

A breeze runs over your cheeks.

You look at the blue of the trampoline border. Blue like the waters in instagram pictures. Blue-

The black trampoline washes away into dark waves and your favorite aunt lays in an innertube sipping on a cocktail, “I’m really glad we came to Hawai’i.”

“Me too. Though I’m still waiting to see a mermaid.”

“It’s great. I’m glad Lady Gaga approved the highway from San Diego to Hawai’i.”

“And we got to see those sea dragons!” 

“Exactly!”

You feel something by your leg and stick your head underwater. The water is so clear, you can see everything around you, including the dolphins swimming around you, leading you somewhere. Minecraft dolphins. You grab onto it’s fin, wondering where they want to lead you. Atlantis? Too see a mermaid.

From under the water you tell your aunt, “I’ll be right back!”

“Yeah-”

And your alarm goes off. Your dream rapidly fades as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blindly grasp around your nightstand for your phone. “Shut up!” The alarm was so annoying. Shrill ringing in your ears when all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

You send Nina a heart emoji on discord, followed by let’s grab some shaved ice. 

Then, you flop back on your bed and doom scroll for a few minutes before you have to sign in on Slack.

*****

It becomes a habit. 

Even as the weather takes a turn as fall sets in, you try and make it out to the park once a week, and without fail Morpheus is there. He’s not always feeding the ducks. But he’s always there and always leaves without saying a word.

You’re not offended when he barely acknowledges your wave as you sit down next to him. That was just what he was like. Morpheus suffered from perpetual resting bitch face because of his pouty mouth. You’d yet to see him smile. 

It didn’t matter. You liked his presence. You enjoyed having company as you got fresh air. 

He listened but rarely had much of a reply.

“It’s nice to go into the office and touch base with the other writers,” you muse, sipping at your drink, “make sure everything is coherent and I guess it helps to talk to people who are also living with this whole world in their head. It helps. The entire story’s been fleshed out by James, our lead.” You let the words hang in the air. Working from home was nice too. It lets you wake up at noon and crawl down the rabbit hole of your own imagination until three in the morning. 

Morpheus’ tilts towards you as he continues to watch the wind sweep through the trees. A trio of teenage girls had brought an entire charcuterie board and flowers for their park day. 

“Not to mention James does have to sign off on my work. I’m still pretty low on the totem pole.” This was your first full time gig out of school. Not an internship with terrible pay and long hours or freelance, but an honest to god full time job with benefits and pay that meant you could finally rent your own studio apartment. “Do you game?”

“No.”

You glance at him in profile. He remained as pale as the first time you’d seen him, but the gauntness in his cheeks had receded. There’s lines under his eyes that led you to believe he was closer to forty than your late twenties, closing in on the big 30. The Cut loved to post how everything changed at thirty. 

“It’s fun. I didn’t really get into them until high school but that was only because my parents bought into the whole video games cause violence schtick but like, I wanted to play pokemon not Call of Duty, at least when I was nine.” You smile, thinking back on fond memories, “then I started going over to Michael’s house after school and we’d play Zelda and Fallout. His parents were complete nerds who knew Klingon so they were cool about us playing whatever they were also playing.” Your parents would not have approved of Left 4 Dead. 

“I will take your word for it,” Morpheus tells you, sitting back against the bench. 

You sip your tea. It’s still warm enough that the ice is melting away, watering down the taro flavor. “Or you could come over sometime and play Stardew Valley?” You pick a tree and stare at it. You were nervous about his reaction. But it had been weeks. At some point you had to make plans and grab a burger or a drink. That’s just what friends did and if you left it up to Morpheus it would probably take a year. That’s all. It had nothing to do with how your heart sped up the moment you spotted his familiar head of hair in the park. It had nothing to do with the anticipation that had you smiling like a fool on Wednesdays when you routinely went to the park. 

He doesn’t respond, his expression dour. 

After a beat of silence, you find it within yourself to look at him. 

Morpheus meets your searching gaze with his own. You could see the emotions playing out in his blue eyes, but you could not read them. Like the eyes of a bird of prey, you could see the intelligence, the life and consciousness within, but lacked the ability to understand them the way you could read other people. 

The corners of his mouth lift, his smile a precious thing you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. “Perhaps,” he allows. “Once the image of an avenging Mina Harker fills the minds of dreamers around the world.”

Smiling softly you reply, “Only if it’s successful.” You could never be sure with indie games. 

“It will be,” Morpheus states.

“I try not to focus too hard on what happens after it’s released and out of my hands. What will be will be.” 

He nods. 

You finish your tea. 

It was a lovely day. The August sun was not so harsh after four. There were less people as families planned for a return to school. The tourists stopped visiting the Northwest in droves. 

And maybe Morpheus would come over. 

That was more than you’d had yesterday. 

You could even show him the demo of-

You bite your lip, trying to think if you had let anything slip about Project: Dracul City. Developing games came with a strict gag order. Nothing could leak before it’s time, not the gameplay or plot or any of the concept art. Usually, you were pretty good about keeping quiet. 

Surely you hadn’t told him. 

And yet he’d known. 

You frown. 

“Do you wish to feed the ducks as well?” 

His words break your line of thought. You hadn’t even noticed the crinkling sound of the paper bag as he opened the birdseed up. 

“These ducks must be the most spoiled in all the public parks,” you muse, smiling at Morpheus before grabbing a handful of feed and tossing it lightly into the grass. 

It was exciting to see the ducks and birds come over. The shyer animals waited to see if it was safe. They all had their own personalities. 

You’re not bothered by his lack of response, the conversation stilling. You’d grown to like his taciturn ways. It gave what he did say more weight. He wore black like a uniform and over the course of the weeks in which you had been meeting up with him (undiscussed by either of you) he had become beautiful in your eyes. You wanted to run your fingers through his unkempt hair. You wanted to steal away his smiles for yourself: to know you could make such a dour man smile because he couldn’t help himself around you. 

You reach for more birdseed only to find that Morpheus had left. 

Figures. 

*****

Unsuccessfully, you try to wipe away the number written on the cup of hot apple cider, otherwise known as the perfect fall drink as the leaves grew into vibrant array of reds and oranges with the change in seasons as the days grew cold. 

The cashier had been nice, but you were only interested in one man. 

The sharpie doesn’t budge at all. 

You give up trying to get the sharpie off when you spot Morpheus. “Hey I got you a drink since it’s starting to get cold out.” It wasn’t coat season for you yet, but you’d started wearing a sweater while running all over town. 

You hold out one of the cups, the one without the number scribbled on it. 

His eyes widen, pink lips parting in surprise. But he makes no move to reach for the cup you’re offering. 

“It’s apple cider,” you tack on, “warm you right up.”

He blinks. 

You roll your eyes, “just take it and say thank you.”

It works. Morpheus nods, taking the cup from you, his fingers cool when they brush against your skin. “This was not necessary.” 

“I know,” you say, plopping down next to him. “But I wanted to.” 

“Thank you,” he inclines his head toward you. The sincerity in his voice is clear as a bell. 

Heat blooms on your cheeks. “You're welcome.” Again, you smile at him as you take a sip of your cup, “I can’t wait until the street vendors start having roasted chestnuts.”

“You enjoy winter.”

“Yeah. Some of it,” you laugh, “The snow can get annoying at times but more and more I find myself taking the time to enjoy the little things. It’s not like I’m working towards getting into college, getting a degree or anything anymore. I’m just enjoying life, yeah?” You flush. In your head it sounded wise, but out loud you just sounded naive. 

“My sister shares your thoughts.”

You arch a brow, “you have a sister! Older or younger?”

With a slight smile, Morpheus answers, “older.” He must be fond of her. 

“Well she’s right. It’s hard at first. I’d pick up flowers for myself and then think about what a waste of money they were but why not. I like having flowers. Or I’d make up excuses not to go out with my coworkers to stay in but if you do that enough times they’ll stop inviting you and you fall into a rut and that’s no way to live. And some people are so different outside of work.” The older you get, the easier being content becomes. 

Stop and smell the roses indeed. 

Then you ask him, deviating from your unspoken plans, “do you want to walk around?”

“If you wish to.”

“I do, but we don’t have to.”

Morpheus stands, and you take that for the answer that it is. 

******

The grass tickles your calves as you wander through the meadow. The sun paints the sky in hues of orange as it sinks below the treeline. 

It’s lucky it’s not raining. 

On your first trip to this national park, it had rained the entire time. Not surprising. Rain was a constant companion in this city, but it was more than worth it when you got this lovely meadow all to yourself. Wildflowers were sprinkled throughout the grass. 

You’d always wanted to come back, splurge on the fancy lodge instead of being in a tent and hoping the rain wouldn’t get through the plastic. Plans to come-

You blink, looking around slowly. 

Was this a dream?

You try to string your thoughts together: trying to remember how you got here. It was fall. Not spring. It’s hard, your brain feels like it's sinking into a thick comforter, the way it always feels when you’re on the border of deep sleep. 

Taking in the scenery, the solace, you let your train of thought dissolve and you give into the nonsensical logic of dreams, letting yourself fall back into deep sleep. 

It’s lovely. 

You sit down in the grass as the leaves take flight, butterflies in the air twirling in constellations before settling back down in the branches. These trees were unmatched by anything you’d seen before. It only made you wish to see more, go to more places. 

“You are fond of the natural world.”

Turning, you find Morpheus sitting next to you. His long coat is no longer black but a starry night. Stars twinkle in the depth of the fabric as you take him in with wide eyes. 

“Morpheus,” you’re delighted to see him.

And because this is a dream, you don’t hesitate to reach out, crossing boundaries without a thought, you brush your fingers over his shoulder, half expecting your hand to go right through and slide into an abyss of night. That doesn’t happen. 

Sheepishly, you meet his gaze. 

His eyes are black unfathomless pits with a sole pinprick of light for a pupil. At this, you draw back. 

Morpheus says nothing, regarding you carefully. 

You blink.

And when you can bear to meet his waiting gaze again, his eyes are clear as ever. It must have been a trick of the light. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you note lamely. The national park wasn’t exactly close. 

“I have business to contend with,” Morpheus replies, which leaves you with more questions than answers. You didn’t even know what he did for work. “We will not be able to meet in the Waking world for some time.”

“Oh,” you answer, crushed. It was ridiculous to feel so intensely about someone who was the equivalent of a classroom friend. You didn’t even have his number. Lin, your coworker, would call that a red flag. 

His words sink in and, “the waking world?” Now you’re just confused.

His brow furrows with concern. “We are in The Dreaming.”

“I don’t understand.”

Morpheus frowns. “This a dream, your dream.” The sky goes periwinkle as snow starts falling. “And I am King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.”

“Oh,” you go, “should I bow or something?” 

Your words elicit a rare smile from the dour man. 

It made your smile grow, to know that you had made him smile. 

“There is no need,” the small smile stays on his pink lips. 

“No off with her head” you joke, accepting dream logic and not questioning it as you quote the Queen of Hearts. 

Morpheus frowns. “I would not be so crude.”

“Oh so I should be worried,” you wiggle your brows. 

“Not of me.” He utters softly, his eyes become glassy. “Not while you are under my protection.” Morpheus reaches for you. The back of his hand ghosts over your cheek. 

You lean into his touch without a thought. 

You meet his gaze unabashed. 

He blinks slowly, peering at you through dark lashes. There was a sedate romance to him that the Brontë sisters could only dream of. 

“I cannot stay,” he confesses with remorse.

“You did say you had stuff to do.” 

“I do.”

His hand is soft against your cheek. Neither of you move, resting in the moment, holding the pause for as long as possible.

Morpheus draws away, standing. Snow falls around you but the temperature remains pleasant. Snowflakes fall on your arms and do not melt. 

You stand. 

It’s the awkward point where you’re waiting for him to leave but don’t want him to leave and he’s dragging it out too. You’ve been through this plenty of times on friends' doorsteps as you chat and say goodbye and wait. 

He stuffs his hands in his coat. It touches the ground, melting away the snow around the hem with its soft red flames, more ember than anything. 

Morpheus makes no move to leave. 

You wait, taking in the sight of him. Snowflakes fall in his unbrushed hair. 

“Here,” Morpheus draws something from his pocket. 

“Oh.” 

He drops it in your outstretched palm without ceremony. Morpheus looks away as you study the object.

It’s a necklace. The chain is simple gold. It’s the pendant that catches your eye. 

Encased in glass are grains of sand. They swirl inside the glass on their own. 

“Thank you,” you look over at him. 

Morpheus nods slightly. “It allows you to enter The Dreaming at will.”

“A standing invitation then,” you wink.

“Yes.” He has a talent for filling words with a weight beyond their common vernacular. Morpheus’ gaze is heavy on you. 

You can’t parse out why this is so important, but it obviously is for him. 

You unlock the clasp, wrapping the chain around your neck. With your fingertips, you try to lock it. The clasp is impossible when you cannot see it.

The hairs at your nape get in the way.

“Allow me.” Morphues closes the distance between you. 

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He takes the chain from you, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck. He works swiftly, making quick work of it. 

The pendant hangs in the middle of your chest. 

Your heartbeat is hummingbird quick. 

Morpheus’s breath tickles your nape. 

You don’t dare move, fearing this is all a dream that will end if you do anything.

“I shall be expecting you.”

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint. Though it’s about to be crunch time and I’m not looking forward to-” 

His actions cut you off. 

Morpheus leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck chastely. 

You draw in a breath. 

The moment is over in the blink of an eye. 

Something witty, sure to ruin the moment, is on the tip of your tongue as you turn, looking over your shoulder. But he’s gone. 

****

The sand continues to swirl, defying gravity inside the pendant, when you wake. 

You play with it as you scroll through files, read through work emails, and desperately try to recall the details of your dream. 

You’ve never been more excited to sleep in your life.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #an understanding #lmao i love miscommunication as a trope #to morpheus: he explained what he is perfectly #meanwhile readers like: idk whats going on but im into it #unedited as usual

[slythering-snake-boys]

Old Friends (Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt)

Characters: Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt

Words: 4059

Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, can be read as platonic or romantic, spoilers for the game, mentions of death, somewhat of an AU because of certain major events not matching what happens canonically

A/N:

Without spoiling too much, I love adding this character, especially since it didn't seem fair to only have one of them

Solomon is alive

Halloween was fast approaching and the entirety of Hogwarts was excited for this year's festivities. And despite everything that had happened during your fifth-year, you were somewhat excited as well. After all, the wizarding world was currently safer, including all your friends. Though it all came with a price.

As you got ready to go downstairs to the Great Hall, you looked into the mirror one more time. There were bags under your eyes even now. No matter how much you slept, it didn't help. With a sigh, you looked through your trunk by the bed, getting a beautification potion that you'd managed to brew specifically for such cases.

The effects were immediate, the bags disappearing and more colour filling your cheeks and the rest of your face, making you appear livelier. The downside was that the potion didn't help your eyes change - they still looked quite distant and held a pretty faraway look in them. But who could blame you, really? You'd fought Ranrok, watched Sebastian almost murder his uncle and witnessed the death of your mentor, Professor Fig. You weren't too sure the nightmares would ever go away.

As you applied just a little bit of lipstick and looked over your dress one more time, you thought about what you might possibly see this year and what you'd do afterwards, in the future. The excited chatter and giggling from outside the girls' dorm room made your train of thought derail. With a sigh, you straightened up and left, going downstairs and leaving the common room.

"Took you a while, MC." You looked up as the entrance to your House's common room closed behind you, seeing Sebastian and Ominis. They were both dressed nicely, but more leisurely. "But I can see why." You laughed at Sebastian's words, seeing a teasing smirk grace his face. Which promptly left and turned into a pout because of Ominis elbowing him in the sides. You couldn't help laughing at the two of them playfully bickering, relieved to see their friendship was still intact and, hopefully, stronger than ever.

You were glad that you'd managed to stop Sebastian in that tomb. Otherwise, who knows what might've happened. Right now, Sebastian had pretty much given up on the Dark Arts, finding his new chance of curing Anne in you. It had taken a lot of persuasion and arguments, but in the end, you and Ominis managed to get him to stop pursuing that dark path.

"Keep your hands to yourself at least for tonight, Sebastian." Ominis sighed before turning towards you with a smile. "Hello, darling. I'm sure you look beautiful, if the girls fawning over you as they were leaving was of any indication." You felt yourself flush a little at his words, seeing Sebastian smirk. You jokingly glared at him before coming closer to the two Slytherin boys.

"You two look really nice this evening. And my, oh my, Sallow. Is that...cologne? Old Eau de Confringo not attracting the ladies anymore?" He pouted and glared at you playfully while Ominis snickered.

"You're never gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope. After witnessing 7 people describe one of the scents in Amortentia as Confringo, for lack of a better word, during Professor Sharp's lesson a few weeks ago... You can't really blame me, can you?" The brunette huffed and crossed his arms, the blush on his face highlighting his scattered freckles like little stars.

"Well, as much as I'd like to take the day off and make more fun of Sebastian and his fangirls, I'd like for the three of us to go and enjoy some Pumpkin Pasties and Butterbeer. After all, you two have been badgering me about this for the past month, so we better not be wasting time. I still have to write my paper on Felix Felicis for Tuesday." Ominis explained as he got up, his wand already glowing as he looked in your direction. Sebastian got up as well and you linked your arms with his then with Ominis'.

"Don't worry, Ominis. You'll be a lot more relaxed after tonight and you can write your paper tomorrow, after a good sleep. I have to get some information for Professor Shah's class, but I'll do it tomorrow night since it's going to be clear. Tonight is all about relaxing and enjoying ourselves." Sebastian grinned and nodded at your words, flexing his arm enough for you to feel it and look up at him with a smile.

"Exactly. I don't want to hear about homework for tonight, thank you very much. That can wait. For now, though, Butterbeer is in order." He commented, already mentally drooling at the thought of all the treats commissioned by Hogwarts from Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. It was the same every year, but there was always a new product, as some sort of a thank you for most of the clients being Hogwarts students.

With those words, the three of you walked towards the Great Hall, talking and laughing along the way. And the party was in full swing, with friends and classmates laughing and mingling. The scent of different Honeydukes sweets and Butterbeer permeated the air and made your stomachs grumble. With practised ease, Sebastian moved his arm around your shoulders while Ominis' hand barely touched your lower back as they both led you to the refreshments table.

The next few hours were spent socialising, laughing, drinking and stuffing yourselves full. You were almost never without any of the two Slytherins, especially since Sebastian had told Ominis about some of the other students ogling you and seeming ready to come and ask you either to a dance or on a date. Some bolder ones had tried, but the look in the two boys' eyes, with or without your knowledge, made anyone turn tail and walk away. It wasn't that they were jealous, no. They just...hated the idea of you being asked out just because of your status as the 'Hero of Hogwarts', as they had agreed in the Undercroft. Yeah, that was it, no other reasons, surely.

"Everyone, if I may have your attention, please!" You all turned towards the podium, seeing Professor Weasley, who smiled at the crowd of students having a good time. "As you may be aware, Headmaster Black is currently engaged in other business with the Ministry until next week. As a result, I will be the one to make some special announcements tonight. Let's start with the first one: the Ghosts of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, who have graciously accepted our suggestion of dancing for us tonight. Let's give them a warm welcome!"

Everyone started clapping as the aforementioned ghosts glided inside the Great Hall through the walls and open doors, some passing above the students, others through, making them shiver. Everyone made room for the ghostly residents of the castle and Hogsmeade as they danced in sync, echoing laughter intertwining with the music played by both the enchanted instruments and the musicians' portraits, whose residents had been invited to accompany them. You all watched the ghosts dancing, the two boys flanking you from either side.

Ominis froze and turned his head around a little, his wand able to somewhat sense the commotion, curious before feeling a smile overtake his face. When the dance was over, everyone applauded. You and Sebastian talked about it before you saw him flinch and yelp comically. You looked at him with a chuckle as he looked back, his jaw becoming slack. You turned as well, seeing Anne. She still appeared a little pale but you were more overjoyed to see her than anything. Sebastian, you and Ominis all hugged her, happy to see her back at Hogwarts.

"What are you doing here?" Sebastian asked her, beyond curious.

"Professor Weasley invited me. Told me there was a special occasion tonight and that I shouldn't miss it. Uncle Solomon is just over there, talking with her." You all looked where she was pointing, seeing the older man as he greeted several of your teachers. Sebastian scoffed a little but didn't say anything else, not when he felt you squeeze one of his hands reassuringly.

His relationship with Solomon hadn't improved much, especially after he almost cast the Killing Curse on their uncle. Still, with a bit of coaxing and many, many promises and reassurances from you and Ominis and plenty of begging from Anne, Sebastian was allowed to visit Anne and Feldcroft again. Though he wasn't allowed to bring anything he thought might cure Anne - not without proper research, official clearance by a professor or a doctor, and certainly not without him present.

Sebastian had protested immediately and promptly left the house, taking his frustration out on the training dummies outside. You all left him to vent, but he knew he couldn't win. And with you and Ominis coming out after a while to discuss with him, he finally relented. And as much as he would've tried to sneak past his uncle, you and Ominis had put your faith in him and told him so. Which made the brunette feel guilty and actually respect his promise.

"Did she tell you anything else about this special occasion?" You asked the girl, effectively ending the awkward moment the four of you had found yourselves in. Anne shook her head.

"Nothing. I tried to ask her and even Uncle Solomon, but he didn't know anything either. But I'm glad to be back here nonetheless." You both smiled at each other and hugged before the boys did the same. She asked you all questions about classes and your adventures, and you all told her different anecdotes, making her laugh so hard until her cheeks had gained a rosy, healthy colour.

"Is it me or does it seem a bit more crowded this year? Or is my wand not doing its job properly?" Ominis asked with furrowed brows. You and the twins looked around, noticing how many ghosts were actually gliding and dancing around and above you.

"There are a lot more ghosts here, that's certain..." Sebastian mumbled, his height offering him an advantage as he looked over most of the heads of those around him, noticing that there were indeed more ghosts than usual.

"What's going on?" You asked as you looked around and then at Sebastian.

"I'm not entirely sure..." He whispered, looking above almost everyone else's heads curiously.

"Attention, everyone!" Professor Weasley's voice once again made everyone turn towards the podium. Seeing that everyone's attention was on her, she smiled and continued talking with a smile. "Given that tonight is Halloween and there are so many of us gathered here, I'd like to announce another special event that will be taking place shortly. You may have noticed how many otherworldly guests are here tonight. There is a good reason for that." Her eyes almost seemed to lock on your group of four and she smiled wider, almost motherly. "They have been able, in their own unique way and thanks to the latter's strong bond to Hogwarts, to help us call forth some of our former and beloved teachers who have left us too early. Mainly, Professor Fig and Mr and Mrs Sallow."

At the sound of those words, the three of you froze and felt everyone's eyes on you, whispers starting to raise in numbers. The sound of quiet voices from behind you made you all turn in that direction. At first, you couldn't see anything, though soon you heard Sebastian gasp, watching as his eyes filled with tears and his chin and lower lip trembled. Your hand involuntarily squeezed his hand and you felt him squeeze back.

The students and other ghosts moved to the sides of the Great Hall, enough to make way for the three special guests. You felt tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the transparent figure of your former mentor who was smiling, nodding and greetings those he passed by. When his eyes locked onto yours, his smile widened and you felt the tears finally slide down your cheeks as you smiled back. He stopped in front of you, looking down at you proudly with a big smile on his face.

"It's good to see you again, my young friend."

"H-Hello, Professor Fig. It's great to see you again, sir." You sniffled, unable to stop yourself from crying and wanting to hug him, despite knowing you'd go right through him. Seemingly uncaring of such trivial things, he came forward and hugged you, making you shiver at the cold feeling passing through you. But you tried to give him a hug without going through him, happy to know that he was still somehow there.

You looked to the side, seeing Anne and Sebastian crying as their parents talked with them with smiles on their faces. The twins were both red in the face from all the crying and your heart ached because of how clearly they missed their parents. But you were glad to know that they managed to see them again, even if it was after quite a while.

"Mr Gaunt! My boy, you've grown taller than me!" Professor Fig leaned back, looking at Ominis with a wide smile. Ominis smiled and bowed his head, coming to sit by you as one of his arms went around your waist, half embracing you.

"I have? That's good to know. Sebastian always tells me I'm shorter than him." You chuckled, your voice sounding watery, but you leaned into Ominis' side.

"Don't worry, this will be our secret." Professor Fig winked, making you smile.

"Mom, Dad, these two troublemakers are MC and Ominis, my best friends here." You, Ominis and Professor Fig turned around, watching the Sallow twins come to stand by you, presenting the translucent figures of their parents.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Sallow. A pleasure to meet you." Ominis bowed politely and you nodded and smiled, watching them.

"Likewise. It's good to finally meet the two of you. Thank you for taking care of Sebastian and Anne all those years." Their praise made the two of you flush, but you smiled nonetheless. You knew that they had most probably been watching over their two children, despite not being alive for so many years already.

"By the way, who are you calling troublemakers, Sebastian? Last time I checked, you were the detention master here, not me and MC." Sebastian flushed and pouted.

"Surely your parents already know about your...reputation here, Sebastian?" His parents nodded and Sebastian pouted even more, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with an obvious blush. Anne giggled and patted his back.

You spent the rest of the night talking with most of the invited ghosts, including Jackdaw, who was thrilled to see you doing well and still alive, especially knowing that you'd survived what had brought his early demise. Even Professor Fig and the older Sallows talked with others, students and ghosts alike, though your eyes were almost always going to them for fear that they'd disappear. You and Ominis stayed close to Sebastian and Anne, understanding that they were suffering even more since they'd lost their parents and were finally meeting them again after around 10 years.

"So... You're only here for tonight, professor?" You asked Professor Fig as you looked up at him before glancing towards Mr and Mrs Sallow as they were back next to Sebastian and Anne. He nodded, smile dimming a little.

"Until 4 AM, I'm afraid." You visibly deflated. Twenty more minutes. And from what you'd understood, their ghosts had to leave. Probably forever. This had been a special, unique opportunity. You didn't know if something like this could ever happen again.

"The witching hour, huh?" He nodded at your almost silent words, looking at you with a sad, pitiful smile.

"Sadly, yes... I could become another one of Hogwarts' ghosts, but..."

"No, no, sir... You've chosen...because of Miriam, right? And Mr Osric." Your mentor nodded. You smiled, happy to know that he could now meet those dear to him again. "I'm glad to know that you have been reunited again. I know how much you missed her..." Professor Fig smiled and nodded.

"I can see that Mr Sallow and Mr Gaunt are both keeping a close eye on you." You felt like blushing, but schooled your emotions and only smiled before glancing at the two young men in question. They were both on either side of Anne, talking with the Sallows.

"Sebastian and I have been on many adventures together... And Ominis has tagged along quite often, more out of worry for us than anything. But he's had his share of fun with us, especially when we were saving captured beasts."

"They both care a great deal about you and I can see that you care about them as well."

"They are some of my closest friends here. Along with Poppy, Natty and Amit... We've all had our share of...dangerous adventures. But we've only come out stronger in the end." Professor Fig smiled proudly.

"I know that your fight isn't over. If what the Keepers have told us is true...it will never be truly over. But I feel relieved knowing that you aren't facing everything alone. And I am very proud of you for how brave you are. For how far you've come. And for how much you're staying true to yourself. I know you'll do great things. But please, remember to also take care of yourself. Let others take care of the world and recover. Physically, mentally and emotionally." He was as caring as always, trying to take care of you and offer you advice even from beyond the grave.

"Thank you, Professor Fig... I will." You nodded. You could almost hear the minutes ticking by. He will leave soon, you thought. I won't see him again.

The thoughts made you tear up and a lump started forming in your throat. A hand on your shoulder made you tense before looking back, seeing Sebastian, Anne and Ominis, along with Mr and Mrs Sallow. The twins were both smiling, though their noses and cheeks were a little red and their eyes red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears. Ominis came to your other side and took your hand in his, with Sebastian and Anne on your other side as he held onto your other hand while also holding onto Anne's. The twins' parents stood next to your former mentor, looking at you all.

"We are very proud of you. All of you." Mrs Sallow said, looking at each one of you four. You heard Anne sniffle. Sebastian straightened up, breathing in deeply to keep himself from crting even more.

"I'm glad that you're all watching over one another and I know you'll be there for each other no matter what." Mr Sallow followed. You squeezed the boys' hands, feeling them squeeze back.

"And we will always watch over you, rest assured. You'll never be truly alone." Professor Fig smiled at all of you. You all smiled and nodded in response.

Mrs Sallow came a little closer, har hand trying to brush both of their cheeks. The tips of her fingers went through and Anne had obviously felt the coldness. The knowledge that they couldn't feel each other's touch, whether a hug or a pat on the back, made Sebastian swallow thickly.

"Sebastian... Anne... Oh, you two have grown so much... I'm so proud of you for how we'll you're doing..." Mrs Sallow whispered, visibly getting emotional. "We love you two very much. Never forget it." Mr Sallow only seemed to pull her closer as he smiled at his two children.

"You'll be okay. Both of you. We have faith in you." He added. Anne sniffled and hugged Sebastian's side tightly as he nodded, tears brimming his eyeline.

"We love you, too. Please, w-watch over us." He said with a slight stutter, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bawling out like his twin sister.

"Everyone!" Professor Weasley's voice pierced through the air. "It is almost time for our guests to return. I would like to thank them once again for gracing us with their presence and for their help in allowing us to see those we've lost once more. As a final thought for those who will be leaving us... For being in our lives... For making us better versions of ourselves... For offering us advice and helping us grow up... For believing in us. Thank you." Everyone clapped, the sound echoing while a few of those in the audience cheered loudly.

Professor Fig and the Sallows all smiled at the four of you before you saw their translucent figures gradually disappear until they became as small as a pale blue match flame. They lingered for a few more seconds before the blue wisps turned even smaller and started floating away, along with the other ghosts who weren't Hogwarts residents.

It was quiet between the four of you as you stood there, stuck to the same spot almost in a daze.

"Anyone else in need of some fresh air?" Ominis asked tentatively, to which you all agreed quietly and walked out of the Great Hall, feeling a few people staring at your figures. Once outside, you sat down on the nearest benches, staring at the barely cloudy sky, watching the stars glinting on the inky sky. The air was cold enough that you could see your breath every time you exhaled.

"Are you two okay?" You asked Anne and Sebastian quietly. Sebastian was staring at the sky with a blank look on his face while Anne was wiping her nose with a handkerchief.

"I wish we had more time..." Sebastian whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. You got up and came over to him, hugging him tightly as he embraced you back, soon hearing him sniffle as the top of your dress soaked up his tears.

"I know... I wish for the same thing. But it's okay. Now...we know that they're there, watching us. And we got to see them. To talk to them. I..." You licked your lips as you took a shuddering breath so you wouldn't start crying again, your fingers going through his now unruly locks while Ominis scooted closer, rubbing his best friend's back comfortingly. "I'm glad we were able to do this. It feels like a part of me is back." Anne sniffled once more before breathing in and out to clear her head. She stared at the sky for a moment before smiling and nodding.

"You're right... I never thought I'd ever see them again and now... Now I feel as if we got some sort of...closure." You nodded and kissed the top of Sebastian's head. You felt his arms tighten around you and bury his face more into your chest, seeking more of your comfort and warmth.

"Seb? Are you alright?" He had stopped crying and was only taking deep breaths. Instead of answering, he leaned back a bit, his eyes, nose and cheeks evidently red from all the crying. But he nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"I'll be fine." He answered simply. "Thank you for being there for us, you two." Anne beamed at you and nodded while Ominis and you only smiled back.

"What about you, MC? How are you feeling after all this?" Anne asked you. You sighed before smiling.

"I actually feel...good. I managed to tell Professor Fig a lot of the things I didn't get to. I feel more at peace with the situation. And I'm glad he and Miriam are together once again." Anne and Ominis nodded thoughtfully, though the smiles on their faces indicated that they were relieved you were feeling better. True to your words, you seemed to be carrying yourself better now. As if you felt lighter, like a burden had been taken off your shoulders.

Sebastian embraced you once more, though he didn't start crying again. Anne came closer and put her arms around her twin brother, having him put an arm around her in response. And you pulled Ominis closer, hugging him as well. Merlin knows you all needed the comfort.

"We're going to be alright." You all nodded, squeezing the other a little tighter.

#bomi's stuff #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x you #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader

[docochocart]

DOCORONPA R

CHAPTER ONE

[trial]

The cast silently shuffled through the greenery in an anxious fog. Streamer's feudal attempts to lighten the mood were hushed by her fellow campers as they cautiously followed Monomaton down the winding path.

MonoMaton eventually took pause between two suspiciously parallel trees. He turned back to the group as if to speak, only for the earth between the two trees to part, opening a rift in the dirt.

The group hesitantly peeked into the void, being met with an industrial metal staircase descending into the earth.

MonoMaton silently lifted an arm, directing the cast to enter. One by one, the cast made their way into the suspicious opening.

They all traversed the underground hallway in a quiet discomfort, cold silver walls and bleak LED lights only added to their dread. No words were spoken between them until they finally reached the massive metal doors leading to the courtroom.

The cast took up their assigned podiums, all positioned in a circle. A lifeless portrait of Salesman stared the group down from his empty podium.

MonoMaton quickly moved things along with a hasty introduction to the trials, informing them they had 2 hours to reach a verdict.

Ice Skater immediately took control of the room, stating they should begin with the, somewhat obvious, murder weapon.

The bow found a few cabins from the crime scene was immediately brought into focus, Ice Skater stating it was clear that this was used to kill Salesman. Nobody contested.

They moved onto the vantage point from which it was shot, a discussion that was quickly derailed by Streamer. The scrawny girl questioned who amongst them would even be capable of successfully shooting an arrow like that.

Ice Skater concurred, agreeing that was also important to establish while coldly locking eyes with Marine Biologist.

Marine Biologist lit up from being silently called upon. She exclaimed she had evidence on that subject, sending a shock up Drummers spine.

She spilled to the group on what she'd seen two nights prior, calling Cowboy and Welder out on their late night archery training. Luckily for Drummer, she was left entirely out of the narrative.

Cowboy immediately jumped to their defense, stating he'd already suspected someone was attempting to frame them for this.

Ice Skater shot back, asking why else the two would be conducting weapons training.

Welder teared up at the accusation, silently letting Cowboy take the lead on their defense.

Cowboy, gripping the sides of his podium, angrily explained that Welder had privately came to him for protection, and Cowboy thought it would serve them better to learn to protect themselves.

Rebel chimed in, mocking the two about what a "cute little coincidence" it was that they were training with the murder weapon.

Cowboy roared in retort, demanding Rebel to take back what he'd said. This only led Rebel to double down on what he'd said, sending Cowboy into a verbal fury.

Ice Skater interrupted the dueling men, stating that establishing the vantage point was a more important use of their trial time.

Bartender reminded the group where the weapon was found, under the brush on the edge of the base camp. She also added that firing an arrow through a window from that distance would be a superhuman feat.

Ice Skater ran with this train of thought, questioning the room on how close they thought it'd have to be shot from to both break the window and kill Salesman. Streamer was the first to respond.

"Doesn't matter cuz it didn't do that"

Ice Skater seemed instantly repulsed by this response, immediately questioning how Streamer could so confidently say something like that.

Streamer pulled something small and round out of her back pocket, hiding it behind her pasty hand to build anticipation. After receiving enough attention, she revealed a small rock.

Ice Skater pointedly asked what this rock could possibly prove, Streamer calmly turning the stone around revealing the blood stain on it's other side.

Streamer said she found this mysterious rock just below Salesman's corpse. She smirked, saying that this is clearly what broke the window, also stopping to question the direction of the arrow relative to the window.

Trucker questioned why she'd hide such crucial evidence up until this moment, implying Streamer could have some involvement.

Streamer shrugged off his accusation, saying she just wanted to make a good moment.

Sailor genuinely asked the room how somebody could both throw a rock and shoot an arrow at the same time, hoping to recreate it himself.

Social Star pointed out how that's a good point, if the window was broken by a rock, how would Salesman not have been clued into the following arrow?

Streamer concurred, smugly responding:

"Simple, the arrow came first."

Sailor once again chimed in, asking how one shoots an arrow through a window without breaking it, hoping to recreate it himself.

Ice Skater followed him up by stating it was impossible the arrow had come before the rock, if the rock had even truly been involved.

Streamer calmly asked the room how they were so sure the bow wasn't a red herring planted by the killer, confusing almost everyone.

Rebel was the first to agree. Cocking his head and saying that they actually weren't certain that the arrow had been shot. Perhaps it could have been used as a melee weapon by the killer.

This narrative really angered Ice Skater, who immediately tried to cut this conversation shut. She sharply stated that they would be wasting no more time on childish narratives.

Surprisingly, Social Star was the first to contest this decree, concernedly saying they should look into any possible avenues for certainty.

Thus, the discussion continued, much to the chagrin of Ice Skater.

They quickly determined it was entirely possible that the killer could have manually stabbed Salesman with the arrow, only to break the window after leaving the Craft Hall as a red herring.

Bartender shot up, an idea coming to her.

She aggressively turned toward Marine Biologist, questioning if she'd told anybody about what she'd seen.

Marine Biologist quickly retreated inward, silently locking eyes with Drummer. Bartender quickly took notice of this, spinning to meet eyes with her.

She interrogated Drummer on if she'd known about Cowboy and Welder's archery excursion before this.

Drummer, filled with a sudden panic as all eyes fell on her, could only reply with a quiet nod.

Ice Skater immediately moved in on this train of thought, asking Drummer why she hadn't told the group about this discovery.

Drummer stammered, awkwardly coming clean about her and Marine Biologist's pact to silence. She then quietly looked up, meeting eyes with Marine Biologist.

"You didn't break our pact, right?"

Drummer stared the girl down with a somber glare, almost as if she already knew the answer.

Marine Biologist froze, immediately breaking gaze with Drummer to meet Ice Skater's glare. Bartender was quick to take notice of this as well.

Bartender pressed the issue, asking Ice Skater if she'd also been clued into this training. Ice Skater coldly denied the allegation.

Bartender turned her fiery gaze back to a trembling Marine Biologist, demanding eye contact from her. She repeatedly shot the same question to her, watching as tears welled up in the poor girls eyes.

"I- I... I might hav-"

That was enough for Bartender, who span back to Ice Skater, calling her a "dirty fucking liar".

Ice Skater avoided the insult, demanding Marine Biologist clear her name immediately. Unfortunately for her, the damage was already done.

With the suspicion suddenly placed onto Ice Skater, she fell silent. Her eyes darted around the room, analyzing her peers expressions in a panic.

Bartender continued, hurling accusations at the two of collaborating on this crime.

As the cast began to move into theories about how she could have done it, Ice Skater had had enough.

She demanded the floor once again, having to argue with Bartender before receiving that courtesy.

She spoke plainly, coldly, and succinctly:

"The killer is Cadet."

All eyes fell onto a silent Cadet, who looked back to Ice Skater in complete shock. Beads of sweat dripped down her porcelain skin as she formulated a defense.

Ice Skater locked eyes with a paralyzed Cadet, offering her a chance to tell her story before Ice Skater told all.

Cadet fell into a state yet unseen by her fellow campers. Her godly poise crumbled as her face reddened and her heart gained speed. She bore her teeth, still unable to find her words.

Ice Skater moved on from this pathetic display, beginning to explain to the room exactly what had happened, only to be interrupted by an unhinged wail from Cadet.

Cadet began hurling conspiratorial accusations of deception and devil worship at an unmoved Ice Skater.

Ice Skater continued in her explanation, occasionally pausing to let Cadet rabidly scream into the void.

Ice Skater's story was:

Marine Biologist had immediately told Ice Skater what she and Drummer had seen at the archery range. Ice Skater instructed her to ensure Drummer's silence for the good of the camp.

Later that morning, Ice Skater briefly departed from Marine Biologist to secretly convene with Cadet. This is when Ice Skater would share what she'd learned from Marine Biologist, and also when the two would form a sinister plan.

Pausing the story, Ice Skater confessed to the room that she had been the one to propose the plan, also promising that she had no part in it's execution.

The following morning, Cadet made her way to the craft hall before sunrise, stowing away in the kitchen. She came armed with a bow and arrow, instructed to kill the first student to enter in the morning.

The plan was simple, storm the dining hall and attack as soon as the student was sat and eating.

She would then quickly flee out of the rear exit, slipping the red herring bow and arrow at the far side of the base camp on her way back to her cabin. This is also where she was to find a small stone to finalize the illusion needed to frame Cowboy.

She then would quietly opened the door to her cabin before whipping the stone at the craft hall window with marine accuracy. She was then to hastily shut the door as it shattered and attempt to get back to her bunk.

By the time Ice Skater finished her explanation, Cadet had devolved into a furious gibberish.

While this display may seem as good as a confession to some, Bartender wasn't so convinced. She questioned whether they should trust the narrative of a proven liar, insinuating that Ice Skater may be covering her own tracks.

The group pondered on this for a moment. Social Star broke the confusion, stating bluntly that they should be voting purely based off of evidence, not malice.

Bartender contested that a liar's word could not be taken as a solid account, Social star responding that, while true, this "liar's account" perfectly aligns with the evidence and timeline.

Cadet's blind rage had completely drained her at this point, leaving her a red in the face and panting behind her podium. This childish display was what truly convinced the group of her guilt, not Ice Skater's account.

The soldier breathily sputtered in her own defense, but the damage had already been done. With 20 minutes remaining till their vote, Cadet had solidified that she would be receiving the majority vote.

Bartender took this time to turn attention back to Ice Skater and Marine Biologist, continuing her tirade on the two's betrayal. While Social Star tried to calm the raging diva down, it wouldn't stop her continued verbal assault on the two traitors.

She zoned in on Ice Skater's betrayal, pointing out how quickly she turned on Cadet once any eyes were turned onto her.

The trial slowly drew to a close, with MonoMaton cheerily calling for the campers to prepare to vote.

A small monitor positioned on each podium lit up with a grid of the campers faces being displayed. MonoMaton ordered for silence in the courtroom while voting commenced.

Each camper nervously selected a face, all 15 votes being submitted within the minute. The tally went as follows:

- 13 votes for Cadet

- 2 votes for Ice Skater

With that, the room had officially decided it's blackened:

CHAPTER ONE KILLER

ULTIMATE CADET

MonoMaton hopped about the courtroom in glee, repeating over and over that this was his "favorite part".

Cadet let out one final cry of denial, crumbling to her knees. The cast watch on in silence as the girl lost any shred of dignity she'd had.

As she desperately sobbed, MonoMaton cartoonishly giggled at the despair. The stuffed mascot mockingly attempted to comfort the blackened camper:

"Awww, look up kiddo."

Cadet's stream of tears continued between her disjointed prayers, MonoMaton continuing in his mocking tone.

"No seriously, look up."

Cadet halted her prayers for a moment, looking to the ceiling with wide, watery eyes. She didn't have time to process the mounted barrel she was staring down until it was too late.

A single shotgun blast from the ceiling painted Cadet's fellow campers in her insides. Her headless body fell backward from her podium, hitting the cold metal floor with a splat.

After a moment of shock, the room erupted in a chorus of terrified screams. With no warning, they had all just witnessed the brutal murder of their fellow camper.

As the campers continued to panic, MonoMaton congratulated the cast on their excellent detective work. He cheerily announced that the 14 remaining campers would all be safely returning to camp.

None of the students processed what their plush captor had said, all too focused on the bloodbath they'd just been covered in.

Only one thought was able to parse the deathly fog filling Drummer's mind:

How could she ever survive in a place like this?

#danganronpa #dangan ronpa #oc #dangansona #fangan ronpa #fanganronpa #docoronpa #docoronpa r #my art

[onboardsorasora]

Obsessed with girl Daniel, definitely need to read max ruining her 😜

Hey Bestie I am SOOOOOO sorry lmao. You sent this ask from Dec 3 and I just sat on it forever. I didn't forget! I... just... took the long way round lol. But we're here!!! I should put this on ao3 lol. 2715wds

Girl!Dan | Girl!Dan Pt 2

The car ride was tense, Daniel leaned into Max’s space, their shoulders touching. Max’s large hand rested proprietarily on her thigh, fingers shifting lightly against the thin fabric covering her soft flesh.

Daniel wondered if Max could feel her heart pounding through her leg. They didn’t talk– there wasn’t much to talk about really. Nothing for their driver to overhear. 

Max leaned over as if to whisper something into Daniel’s ear, her breath stilled as she waited. 

“You really do look lovely tonight.” Max whispered, his breathy words filtering through the wall of her curls and into her ear. “I hope they’re not expecting them back.” Daniel’s tongue darted to wet her still glossy lips and she shuddered an exhale. 

“I’d joked with Kelly that I might stain them…I don’t think this is what we had in mind then.” Daniel was impressed that her mouth worked. 

“I think that will be the least of your worries.” Max pulled back just as the car stopped at the curb of their hotel. Daniel swallowed thickly, the scent of Max’s cologne clogging her throat. 

They managed to get through the lobby and into the elevator without molestation. Inside the lift was a completely different story. 

Max pressed the button for his floor and crowded Daniel against the wall immediately. He pressed his nose into the column of her beautiful neck, doing what he’d always wanted to do– for years now. His tongue dragged a wet path from her clavicle to behind her ear and Daniel shuddered beneath him.

Max’s hand slid down the exposed skin of Daniel's back to squeeze the roundness of her ass. Daniel’s clutch clattered to the floor from her lax grip.

Max grinned against her neck and kissed a cluster of beauty marks before pulling back and giving Daniel some space to breathe. He knelt to pick up her bag– dragging his hand across her hip and thigh. Daniel’s mouth felt like an arid desert. She felt like she’d never had a drink of water in her life. Looking down at Max kneeling before her she idly wondered if there was enough stretch in her pants to throw her legs over Max’s shoulders from now.

“You’re thinking naughty thoughts.” Max teased, standing to his full height with a smirk. Daniel’s eyes widened in shock before they narrowed at him. Of course she was thinking naughty thoughts– what other thoughts are there right now?

“My bad, lemme just consider the apex at Turn 7 real quick.” Daniel quipped, flushing even as Max laughed. The elevator dinged and the door opened to an empty hallway. Max grabbed Daniel’s hand and led the way.

In his room, Daniel felt like she was having an out of body experience. The air felt charged with pressure– they were really going to do this? She was really going to get this, with Max? She bit her lip and watched as he walked further into the room and threw her bag on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked, pausing midway taking off his jacket. Daniel looked at him and swooned, with his rugged beard, kissable lips and bright blue eyes– filled with concern for her.

She wanted this– so much– and if it would only be for tonight, she was going to have him. Have Max as hers. 

“Nothing.” She murmured with a small smile as the ac kicked on. She reached under the front of her shirt and peeled the pasties off her pebbling nipples. Only the shiver when the cold metal eyelets brushed her sensitive skin. Max watched her curiously, throwing his jacket carelessly to the side to keep her in his sights.

Daniel felt bolstered, felt that sexy feeling again. She was who Max wanted tonight, who he held throughout the rest of the party, whose ear he whispered jokes in. He wanted her and she wanted him– badly. Without another thought, Daniel reached behind her for the clasp of her top at the nape of her neck. With a flick of her fingers, the metal eyelets that held her modesty for the entire night slackened and fell.

Max bit his lip, mouth watering. Daniel’s caramel coloured nipples called to him and he crossed the room without thought.

Daniel was beautiful, Max thought, standing there topless and waiting for him. His hands rested on her hips and his lips descended on hers immediately. The gloss on her lips was sticky but he quickly forgot the feel the moment her tongue licked into his mouth. 

Daniel felt like Max’s hands were branding her skin. His big palms made her waist feel tinier than it was. She felt delicate, soft. Things she didn’t normally feel due to being a racer for all her life. She moaned against Max’s lips then squealed when he lifted her up carelessly. 

Max grinned and threw her on the bed and Daniel watched through the haze of her hair as he knelt on the bed to crouch over her. She’d never been more turned on in her life. 

Max’s lips felt heavenly on her tits. She arched up beneath him, clenching her fingers in his hair. Her hips moved impotently, rutting upwards to nothing, until Max pressed her into the bed with a hand.

Her hand scrambled for the side zipper of her pants, wanting the offending fabric to be gone so she could feel the heat of Max’s bare skin against hers. She felt when Max’s lips pulled into a grin against a pebbled nipple and feared he would tease her more. But thankfully he didn’t, taking in her eagerness to yank the skin tight fabric down her long legs.

Max groaned when her entire thigh tattoo was revealed to him. Like a statue being unveiled for the first time. He dove between Daniel’s legs, nestling his face near the soaked panties at the apex of her thighs, only to turn his lips to the boxer. Max licked the inked skin slowly, mouthing at his treat like it was a long awaited cheat day.

Daniel felt like she was about to implode. She was so so horny, so ready to just wrap her legs around Max’s head and force him to eat her out. He was teasing her and she was going to die. Letting the impulsive thoughts win, she clenched her thighs against his head and moaned at the press of his skin against her pussy lips. 

“Always so impatient, Daniel.” Max mouthed against the crotch of her barely there panties, and Daniel shivered.

“Want you, Maxy.” Daniel rolled her hips and her legs flopped open like a flower when Max licked her over her panties.

Max pressed the flat of his tongue along the wet lace and smiled to himself when Daniel’s legs quivered. He hooked her panties to the side and licked his lips at the treasure that greeted him. With his other hand he pressed the whorls of his fingerprint to the small tattoo in the crease of her bikini line that he hadn’t even known was there. It was a small wave, one unbroken line.

“Max!” Daniel complained and his discovery was immediately forgotten. 

Daniel moaned out one raspy sound after another while Max licked what felt like every single part of her pussy. He ate her out as if she was his last ever meal on earth and wanted to get the full nutritional value. 

Her legs fought for purchase on the sheets while he licked at her clit in quick strokes. Her hips rutted on their own, finding just the right pressure against his tongue. Daniel’s face was a show of concentration as the shocks of pleasure zinged through her body. She grasped and released the sheets rhythmically, throwing her head backwards.

Max watched her, as she took her pleasure off of his tongue. She was frantic now, thrashing and moaning as her hips stuttered their rhythm. Flattening his tongue, he increased the pressure against her swollen button, feeling the immediate reaction of her stiffening beneath him before shuddering uncontrollably.

“Fuuuuuucccck fucck aahhh.” Daniel moaned a warbled sound as her back arched off of the bed. Max continued to lick her greedily, extending the overwhelming orgasm while fingering and caressing her g spot from within.

Daniel sagged against the bed, blearily watching Max stand and shuck his pants down his thick thighs. She felt loopy, high as hell. That was the most intense orgasm she’d had in a while and fuck if she didn’t want more of them from Max.

He kicked the tangled mess of fabric to the side and Daniel scrambled to meet him at the edge of the bed, throwing her hands around his shoulders and pressing their lips together. His face was wet, evidenced by how thoroughly he’d eaten her out. She groaned against him, when his muscled arm pulled her close to his body. Every molecule of her skin was trying to devour him, to pull him into her body so they wouldn’t ever be apart again. 

He was so fucking sexy, and she couldn’t get enough of him. Did want to get enough of him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her cut against his hard dick still hidden away in his boxers. She hadn’t really given him the opportunity to strip, and she was regretting being so impatient. Only a little.

Using her momentum and a little bit of mma training, she managed to flip him onto the bed. His breathless, scrunchy eyed laugh was her reward, the feeling settled in her chest warmly. His hands settled on her hips as he looked up at her softly and Daniel flicked her tangled hair backwards, hoping he liked what he saw. 

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Max murmured, as if hearing her thoughts. Daniel rolled her hips in response. She surged down to kiss him, grinding against him while they made out. She felt dizzy with want, was going to fucking burn out of her skin like a corona but she still wanted to feel everything. 

She kissed her way down his body, nipping at his puffy nipples and each of his washboard abs. His breathy groans emboldened her to go lower each time. She licked and kissed his belly button before hooking and dragging his boxers off of his dick. It slapped forward obscenely and her mouth watered. 

“Daniel!” Max panted as she licked a long stripe down the underside. She laved her tongue as if spelling her name, branding him as hers while he shivered beneath her. She sucked him off like a pro, like she wanted him to never forget her. His fingers tangling in her hair told her she could check off that box. 

She licked long stripes from his tip to his hole, swirling her tongue in his wiry hair. Max groaned beneath her, hips rutting up into the circle of her fist. 

“Fuck.” Daniel whispered, kissing back up to Max’s chest. She straddled him, making a show of hooking her thong to the side, just the way he had earlier. She lined herself up and sunk onto his dick, inch by gratifying inch. Max’s fingers clenched on her skin and he groaned when she eased herself up again. 

She felt so fucking good and Max wondered if there was any truth to the old wives tales about sex creating soul bonds because he was forever changed in this moment. 

Daniel’s thighs flexed as she rode him, finding the perfect rhythm that pulled moans from both their lips. She fell forward to kiss Max, her hair making a curtain around them as honey met cerulean. 

Max grabbed her ass cheeks and held her in place while he speared upwards into her weeping cunt. He watched as her mouth dropped open at the shock of pleasure before her eyes fluttered closed in orgasm. It was fucking lovely. 

Flipping them, she barely flopped onto the bed before he was throwing a thigh over his elbow and thrusting with a new purpose. Daniel keened beneath him when his thumb found her swollen clit. She felt full, overstimulated and she was fucking coming again. 

Max watched as her fingers stopped clenching the sheets and started opening and closing rhythmically in what looked like failed attempts at signals. He bit his lip to hold his grin, slowing down his pace just a little to take her off the brink again. She inhaled a gasping sound and his grin broke free at the absolute wrecked expression on her face. 

“You good down there?” He teased and she flipped him off before brushing her hair out of her face. “Fuck, I just want to fuck you all day.” Max rolled his lips and Daniel moaned. 

He clenched her thigh, fingers digging into the envelope, and pulled out quickly. Daniel whined and Max smirked before he flipped her onto her stomach. She scrambled onto her knees, widening her thighs invitingly. Max ran a finger down her puffy pussy lips, she shivered at the light touch to her over sensitive body.

He kissed her lower lips, smearing her wetness further, and licked into her as if it was her mouth. She was so wet for him, so delectable. 

“Max.” She whined and he pecked another kiss to her cunt before slapping her ass. He watched the redness bloom as she wiggled the pert muscle. He fucked into her, groaning at the wet tight fit on his cock. She moaned beneath him and pressed backwards at the full feeling.

Max rolled his hips before pulling out and thrusting in again, watching the muscles of her back clench and spasm as she reached for the pillows at the head of the bed. He grabbed her wide hips, fingering the thin elastic waistband of her thong and fucked into her with abandon. Daniel screamed into the sheets and Max felt the pleasure threading up his spine. 

He reached under her and stroked at her clit in steady motions, watching as she started thrashing beneath him. She was shuddering in no time and the gripping of her walls was the thing that threw him over the edge. With a groaning hiss he came, pressing into her as far as he could go before pulling out and finishing on her back. 

He pulled out slowly and Daniel slumped onto the mattress, bonelessly. Max watched his come smear on the backs of her thighs from where he’d pulled out. He flopped onto his back beside her, panting into the stillness of the room.

Daniel turned her head to look at him through her tangled hair. It was going to be a nightmare to comb but it was absolutely worth it. Max pulled her limp body closer, settling them in a cuddle that had him relaxing.

“When did you get that tattoo on your hip?” Max broke the silence.

“Mm? After Monza.” Daniel’s lips brushed against his jaw while she spoke. He shivered a little before splaying his hand across her back. “D’you like it?”

“It’s lovely.” 

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled. She felt good, well fucked and taken care of, basking in Max’s attention.

“What should we get for breakfast tomorrow?”

Daniel eased up to look at him, searching his face for answers to questions she didn’t want to voice. He looked back at her contentedly.

“You want me to stay over?” she eventually asked when it seemed like he was waiting on her reply. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Of course. You do not want to stay?” Max hadn’t considered that she would want to leave immediately. That was a bit disappointing.

“I… I want to.” Daniel admitted and Max pulled her to lay on top of him.

“Good. So what do you want for breakfast?”

“You.” Daniel heard herself say. She felt greedy but let herself have this if he was offering.

Max smirked at her and raised a brow. “And for lunch?”

“You.” She bit her lip to bite back a smile.

“Hardly the balanced diet our trainers suggest.” Max teased.

“Cheat day.” Daniel quipped which pulled a laugh from Max’s lips.

“Well in that case, what about dinner?”

“Two servings of you, please.” Daniel replied cheekily.

“Two?!” Max laughed.

“Protein!” Daniel insisted in a giggle.

“I’ll give you protein.” Max grumbled, kissing her soundly. Daniel sighed softly against his lips.

#answered #anonymous #girl!dan #girl dan #maxiel #max/daniel #god I've been sitting on this ask for so long #I hope you didn't lose hope that i'd write it bestie! #I will write all my prompts! I just... need to like get there lol I'm so sorry #why am i like this lmao

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Part 6!! Steddie Vegas AU. This one is long and so so stupid. Apologies in advance.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5

The drive to Rachel was perfect. Minimal traffic, clear blue skies, the wind flowing through his hair and Eddie's hand in his. Thrilling in the way Eddie played with his fingers tapping out the beat of the songs and absentmindedly twisting his wedding band as he crooned along with the gentle jazz, soul and blues of the fifties that drifted through the speakers; seemingly unaware he was even doing it until the girls joined in. 

Steve knew better than to get involved, he'd never been able to hold a tune, but good ol' Frank was infectious, and by the fourth verse all four of them were belting out My Way. He knew he must have sounded awful but his carmates didn't seem to mind, they were all beaming with unadulterated joy, the girls collapsing into the backseat giggling together at the silly car insurance advert that was on its twelfth circulation, their elation contagious. 

He couldn't help but wonder how he'd ever made it this far in life without having this kind of moment every day, couldn't stop himself from pondering how he'd ever manage to live without it because he couldn't remember ever having a more wonderful morning, and he couldn't imagine ever having one again without these beautiful people to brighten his every moment, but he couldn't stop thinking that he had to keep grounding himself; couldn't keep from reminding himself that they were on holiday that this would eventually end, and he'd have to remember how to smile without it being because Chris was making Robin's eyes light up or because Eddie's voice was floating through the air, close enough to reach his ears.

The drive felt like it took no time at all, between the tinkling of pianos and laughter and the endless beauty of landscapes, the sun was already high in the sky by the time they arrived. They hadn't been out of the car for long before he was thanking his lucky stars that he'd chosen to wear his white linen trousers and pale blue cotton shirt because it was at least doing something to stave off the blistering heat, but Robin had definitely regretted her decision to wear all black. He wasn't sure whether it just felt hotter than on The Strip or whether the temperature was actually higher, but it was definitely warmer than either he or Robin had expected it to be; he couldn't believe he'd packed jackets, he didn't think even the darkest clouds could stifle the heat of the sun scorching the desert.

She didn't last more than half an hour before she was begging Steve to "do something!" The only thing he could think to do in the middle of nowhere was to borrow Eddie's penknife to turn her dark jeans into shorts. Of course, she then bemoaned that they had been brand new and "did they not know about malaria?!" even as he spread sunscreen liberally over her pasty calves, wordlessly handing her the bug spray out of the backpack, returning her grateful smile with a reassuring one of his own.

Chrissy, as it turned out, knew a lot about malaria; her stepdad had actually had it along with a myriad of other tropical diseases from his stint in the military before he'd met Chrissy's mum and when he learned of Chrissy's desire to go into medicine he'd told her all about it. It'd swung her career path toward pathology, then to biomed, but her mother wouldn't hear of it, telling her that girls didn't belong in science. Chrissy had ended up waitressing at the country club while she was waiting to pick a career path, then like Eddie had gone into the Carver family business, selling silverware because godforbid the snooty bastards have a waitress and a mechanic in their family.

The detour conversation seemed to have its desired effect, Robin was officially distracted from her spiral down tropical disease lane and Eddie and Chrissy earned themselves some much-desired and much-deserved PDA for their hardship, not that it could actually qualify as PDA when there wasn't another soul to be seen for miles around, not a human soul anyway, although Steve was sure the local reptiles had bigger problems than four queers canoodling.

So despite the mishap with her brand-new jeans, Robin did end up having the time of her life like Steve had hoped, really getting into the Area 51 atmosphere and treating the three of them like she was their personal tour guide, taking them to rarer sights, rattling off facts and telling endless stories. In all the time they'd known each other, Steve had never seen her smile so much, especially the few times she refused to stop for breath, when Chrissy would stop her rambling with a kiss that Robin pulling away from with a dreamy far off look, completely forgetting what it was that she'd been telling them.

He was actually quite impressed with himself when he'd actually managed to capture the moment on camera, immortalising Robin's "sorry this person is unavailable, please leave a message" look on film. That, as well as a couple of hundred other photos, the many opportunities to capture their adventure permanently being a major highlight of the trip because as beautiful as Rachel was, it didn't hold a candle to his three companions; Robin overjoyed with her destination, Chrissy overjoyed with Robin and Eddie, well, Steve didn't want to presume, but he liked to hope he'd had an enjoyable experience, the beaming smile on his face suggested he did.

Steve knew his luck wouldn't last, though, and it wasn't long before Robin insisted on taking his photo; they were standing on an obscure bit of road, signposted by a random boulder that was apparently distinguishable from all the other random boulders surrounding them. Robin demanded Steve was in the photo with said boulder, and as much as he was panicking, who was he to dampen her enthusiasm? Except he quickly realised he didn't really know what to do with himself because other than school portrait photos or the odd family-style holiday-card kind his mother organised, no one had ever really taken his picture before.

He'd felt incredibly lost as he'd stood awkwardly by the rock, but his sweet Eddie, his wonderful mind-reading Eddie, quickly came to his rescue. He and Chris had been dorking around cha cha chaing on the tarmac singing to Love Is Strange, which had been the last song they'd heard on the radio before Steve had cut the Cadillac's engine. Not even breaking character or their bit, Eddie telepathically checked with Robin that it was okay, boxstepping towards Steve as Chrissy called "Sylvia!" 

Eddie paused, looking coyly over his shoulder at his best friend, "Yes, Mickey?" he asked, resuming his slow movement toward Steve.

"How'd you call your loverboy?" Chris asked, waggling her eyebrows at Steve.

Eddie paused and pretended to think of an answer before shouting, "C'mere loverboy!" grinning smugly at Steve and beckoning him with a curled finger.

"And if he doesn't answer?" Chrissy asked.

Eddie put both his hands over his heart, fluttering his eyelashes, "Oh, loverboy!" he called flirtatiously.

Chrissy was grinning so widely and so indelibly, she had to bite her lip in order to ask, "And if he still doesn't answer?"

Eddie skipped the rest of the way to Steve, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, looking up at him through his lashes, "I simply say. Baby!" Eddie sang, wiggling his hips to the guitar only Eddie could hear, trailing his way around Steve, sticking his chin over his shoulder, "Oh baby!" he crooned. Switching to his other shoulder and kissing his flushed cheek, "My sweet baby! You're the one," Eddie finished, snuggling into Steve's back like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Like he was just waiting for Robin to take their photograph, like he hadn't just serenaded him and rocked Steve's world, like Steve wasn't grinning like a buffoon, like he wasn't blushing from head to toe, like Steve's heart wasn't racing faster than was probably wise out in the desert and all Steve could do was shake his head, sharing a look with a bewildered Robin that said, did that really just happen?

And Steve might've been in a state of shock, but he still couldn't help relaxing into Eddie's grasp, interlinking their fingers around his waist, because Eddie may be a ridiculous man who did weird enactments of songs that no one else could hear, but he was Steve's ridiculous man. 

Robin finally managed to come back to herself enough to bring the camera back up to her eyes, Eddie smiling infectiously in Robin's direction, yelling a drawn out "Cheeeeeese!" 

Steve heard more than saw Robin snap the picture because he was too busy just staring at the awe at the crazy, goofy man that was his husband, and he knew he must've had the gooiest eyes in the photo because Robin snapped out of her stupor enough to start faux gagging, demanding they take another she could actually stand to look at.

Of course, the next one Eddie kissed him on the cheek causing Robin to complain loudly, then he'd spun Steve around to stare lovingly into his eyes and the next one getting ruined was Steve's fault because Eddie couldn't just act like that and look at him with that look in his eyes without getting kissed senseless, Steve feeling slightly better about his reaction to Eddie's performance when Eddie looked rather dazed as Steve eventually pulled away. 

Chrissy, probably sensing Robin's frustration, stepped in at that point, before the camera got thrown at the newlyweds or Robin's head actually exploded, yelled a sharp "Eddie!" which seemed to bring him crashing back down to earth. He looked over at the girls then down at the rock and suggested, "Piggyback?" Steve shrugged and spun around, so Eddie could climb onto his back, but Eddie just called him a silly goose in the gentlest tone, hoisting Steve into his arms, holding Steve bridal style, and Steve had never in his life been so thankful to be a Disney Princess.

He spent the whole day in a general state of bafflement, Steve had never been with someone so openly affectionate before, not just in a physical sense, meaning that Steve and the girls were often covered in flurries of hugs and kisses whenever the mood seemed to strike him. But Eddie was emotionally affectionate as well, and not just with him and the girls but with perfect strangers, too. There were times throughout the day when Steve just couldn't tear his eyes away, his heart soaring, his cheeks aching with the effort of smiling for so long because Eddie was just like a walking ray of sunshine, exuding a joy that made everyone around him feel warm and elated.

Steve knew they must've taken hundreds of pictures, each of them taking their turn behind and in front of the lens, photographs taken with landscapes and bits of debris and a lizard Eddie had named Chico who Steve had to admit was a pretty cool dude; he didn't try to eat anyone's toes and when he flicked his tongue out to lick the tattoo on the back of Eddie's ear (that Steve could only assume Chico thought was a fly) Eddie pulled the cutest face Steve had ever seen. It was the same face little kids pull when a puppy licks them for the first time, and honestly, he could only hope the picture came out clear, because if not he would be buying Eddie a lizard when they got home, so they could replicate the experience.

They all took plenty of candids too, especially given Robin's hatred of posed photos, despite her forcing the other three into a mix of terrible stock photo poses, there were photos of laughter when someone said something funny, and the adorable face Chrissy pulled whenever she was listening to Robin talk, pictures of Eddie attempting a cartwheel when Chrissy inadvertently started a competition, Robin sticking her tongue out in concentration as she attempted to follow the white line in the road perfectly, the look of adoration on her face when she inevitably fell and Chrissy knelt by her side to check she was okay, photos covered in sunscreen when Steve had accidentally got a blob on Robin's cheek while he'd been rubbing it into Eddie's neck, inadvertently causing a sun lotion war.

They took best friend photos and coupley shots, Eddie even managed to get a couple of professionally posed photographs of Robin and Chrissy with both of them actually grinning or laughing down the lens. And the more Eddie made them laugh and smile, the more he used his natural ability to capture it forever without making Robin pull her grimace photo face, the more endeared Steve became. Chrissy of course took one look at Steve watching Eddie and insisted on taking their picture, and honestly, wrapped around his husband or having Eddie wrapped around him made being in front of the camera a lot less painful than it'd once been.

In the end, they ran out of films for the camera, Area 51 ran out of attractions and Robin ran out of stories to tell, and suddenly they were all just kinda hungry, Chrissy emphasising the point when her stomach rumbled loudly. And as luck would have it, the closest place was a diner that happened to be run by believers. 

Fascination was always a good look on Robin, and amazingly the owners, Betty and her husband John, had a few stories she hadn't heard before. Just the fact that she was actually sitting still told Steve she was listening intently, long before she started asking more questions than either Betty or John had time to answer.

Chrissy seemed to just be basking in the glow of a captivated Robin, only snatching her eyes away when they were joined by other people, other believers who'd heard their conversation and wanted to join in. Steve marvelled at his three companions' ability to hold three separate conversations from the same table. He knew he personally had nothing to contribute, but that was fine with him, that just meant he could sit and listen and watch their brilliance in awe. 

Eddie was grinning wildly as he chatted with an older man who looked a little like a thin Santa named Phil, and Steve couldn't tear his eyes away, he didn't think he'd seen Eddie stop smiling once all day, not that Steve was complaining of course, he was ecstatic he was having a good time and was delighted to learn that the uncle who raised him was a believer as well and that Eddie was excited to take all their new stories home to him as Phil regaled Eddie with his own personal experience with Martians.

They'd stayed late, mainly because Chrissy had this uncanny ability to make friends with anyone and everyone. Steve could've sworn they must've got to know everyone in a fifty mile radius by the time the summer sun fell below the blinds, lighting the diner in golden hues. They'd heard and shared so many stories, that these people who'd been strangers just a few short hours before suddenly felt like friends, so much so, it felt hard to leave them. 

The foursome had to be literally ushered out the door by Betty, insisting that they take the picnic she'd made for them and go down to the summit to enjoy the sunset. Steve smiled as he waved goodbye as he drove them out of the parking lot even though it brought with it an intense feeling of sadness; a few hours in the grand scheme of things was no time at all but the diner patrons had made them feel like part of the family and the fact that he knew deep down that he'd probably never see any of them ever again just dug a hole in his heart.

The drive down to Coyote Summit was as short as Betty had promised, but she had been absolutely right, it was definitely worth it. The climb to the top wasn't difficult, even laden with enough food to feed a small army and the view from the top, honestly, it was nothing short of spectacular. Just a vast nothingness for as far as the eye could see all around them, it felt like being the only people in the universe, just them and the slowly setting sun. 

Between the four of them they got organised pretty quickly, the girls had pulled the beach towel out of the backpack and laid it out on the rough surface for them to sit on, Eddie lounged against the formation, leaving room for Steve to settle into the v of his legs, the bags of food between him and Robin within easy reach for all of them. Resting his head on Eddie's shoulder, Steve sighed contentedly, it'd been a long but glorious day, and he hadn't felt peace like this in a long time, especially when Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle, pressing a distracted kiss into his temple. 

Chrissy was happily curled under Robin's arm, the two of them chatting animatedly with Eddie, retelling the stories from the diner that the other two had missed, but Steve had already heard them and between the vibration of Eddie voice and laugh, and the serenity of their surroundings, Steve's body was being lulled into a deep sense of relaxation he hadn't felt since his last spa day.

A tranquil silence settled over the four of them, as the sky lit up in stunning pastel colours, leaving them to merely observe the beauty of nature. He'd taken Nancy up Weathertop once upon a time because he thought she'd find the sunset romantic, and she had, it was one of the few times a date with her hadn't ended in a raging argument, and it was nice, but it could never compare to a Nervada desert evening. Weathertop had been like puppy love, but the Summit was something indescribable, something like joy, like peace, like love.

Steve sighed contentedly and laced his fingers with Eddie's, pulling his arms tighter around himself, Eddie quickly taking the hint and dragging Steve closer. So close, he could feel Eddie's heartbeat against his back, the steady rhythm matching his own. So close, Eddie could tuck his chin over Steve's shoulder, the bits of Eddie's hair that had strayed from their tie tickling his face and neck. So close, all he could hear and smell and taste and touch was Eddie, all intermingled with something so ordinary yet extraordinary as the setting sun. 

He knew that it was a moment he'd never be able to forget, that from then on every time he saw the sun he'd think of sitting under the desert sky with his husband.

Husband! Steve thought gleefully, distractedly kissing Eddie's cheek.

It got dark faster than Steve had expected it to, but it was a night of a new moon, so the soft pastels turned quickly to a deep indigo and then an inky black interspersed by the blanket of stars, tiny diamonds twinkling for as far as the eye could see. The majesty of the universe sat before their very eyes, making him feel simultaneously like a giant in the silence of an empty desert and like he was no bigger than a speck of dust. 

It wasn't like it didn't get dark enough in Hawkins to see the stars, he just couldn't honestly say he'd ever bothered to take the time to look, not like this. And seeing it, really seeing it, for the first time, safe in Eddie's arms, felt as close to heaven as he thought he'd ever get.

Steve wasn't sure how long they stayed there staring at the sky. They had talked for a while, Eddie pointing out constellations, murmuring mythical legends into Steve's ear. Robin eventually dragging the two boys into their quiet discussion of what the world would be like in five years time; a philosophical discussion that turned into hushed admissions of hopes and dreams for their own futures, of childhood career aspirations, of growing up with the two-point-four ideal and the realisation that that wasn't their destiny, of first kisses and heartbreaks and gay awakenings.

It was only when something howled too close for any of their liking that they gathered their things and headed home. Steve as thrilled as he was the first time to be back behind the wheel of the Cadillac with Eddie, wrapped in Steve’s hoodie, his hand grasped in his own. They were barely ten minutes into their journey, when Steve glanced in the rearview mirror to see Chrissy fast asleep on Robin's shoulder, only the depths of the darkened landscape keeping Robin alert, her hopes of seeing something stronger than her desire to nap, her denim jacket draped over them both.

He couldn't help smiling to himself, he knew his best friend was in love, there was no other explanation for her behaviour because as much as she enjoyed affectionate she also liked her own personal space, normally Robin would’ve laid her girlfriend gently against the window of the car or the arm of the couch if they fell asleep on her, but she was perfectly content with Chris curled into her side, drooling on her new Metallica t-shirt that she'd got from the concert the night before. 

The radio was on but at a much lower volume than the drive there, the songs had changed from the fifties to the sixties, sad country songs finding their way into the soulful mix reminding him of quality time with Hop. Eddie had started off the journey singing quietly, almost to himself, which slowly transitioned to humming along, Eddie eventually going silent altogether, Steve glanced over to see why he'd stopped, wondering if he'd nodded off upright, but he was just staring out the window, silent and almost pensive, holding Steve's hand so tightly that Eddie's rings were digging into his skin, effectively cutting off the circulation to his last two fingers. 

What A Wonderful World drifted through the speakers, Steve squeezed Eddie's hand gently and began to mutter the lyrics under his breath along with the music, glad that Louis didn't make him sound too much like a squawking parrot; stealing another quick glance at his husband, pleased to see him smiling and mouthing the lyrics back at him. It didn't last though, the song changed and Steve could feel Eddie staring at the side of his face, almost like there was something on it or like he was trying to imprint it in his memory. He thought about joking that a photo would last longer but thought better of it when he glanced over and saw the look of devastation on Eddie's face, he looked like he was about to cry.

"Y'okay?" Steve murmured, squeezing Eddie's hand twice in quick succession which seemed to snap Eddie out of it because when Steve chanced another glance at him, he was grinning at Steve, but it just didn't quite meet his eyes, and it might've fooled someone else, but Steve knew something was amiss.

"Never better," Eddie muttered, lifting Steve's hand to kiss his knuckles just over his wedding ring. Steve knew it was a lie, but he didn't want to call Eddie out or start an argument after the amazing day they'd had, he just had to hope Eddie would talk to him when he was ready. All Steve could do was cling on, pulling their hands to his lips and kissing the back of his hand, and hope everything would be okay.

The drive back from a destination always seemed shorter for reasons Steve never understood, but it didn't seem to take long before they swapped the light of the stars for the lights of The Strip; the evening just barely starting in Sin City even though it had long since gone dark. Eddie asked if they could eat before heading back to the hotel; they’d enjoyed their picnic, but that had been a few hours ago and when Steve saw a shining golden M lighting up the sky, he had a sudden craving for burgers. 

Upon his carmates agreement, he pulled into the car park, already mourning the loss of driving his beloved Cadillac but enjoying the chance to finally stretch his legs, except the restaurant was loud and hectic, filled with merry revellers and being surrounded by the banality of hen dos and 21st birthday parties just felt wrong. In the fluorescent lights Steve could see how dead on her feet Robin looked, her eyes were red whether from straining or crying, he wasn't sure, but he knew the last thing she needed was idiotic chaos. Eddie didn't look much better, and Chrissy looked like she wanted to tear herself in two to take care of them both.

Crowding the other three back towards the door, Steve said, "Go back to the car, I'll get dinner." Feeling the appreciation of his companions in their grateful smiles, "What does everyone want?" Steve asked, trying his hardest to remember their muttered orders before they disappeared back outside. Steve ordered their dinner then nipped into the bathroom, washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face. He was exhausted and worried about Eddie and Robin but knew getting stressed wouldn't help any of them. Sighing heavily, he waded through the mania, collecting their food and heading back to the car, getting to enjoy the night air, being in the other's company and Elvis' soulful voice floating through the radio. Almost feels like we're back in the sixties.

Steve sat twisted in his seat, tangling his legs with Eddie's in the footwell, his arm thrown over the back of the seat, so he could keep an eye on Robin. Not that she was paying any of them any attention, she was just staring at the food in her lap, deep in thought. Steve knew better than to interrupt her, but Chrissy's concern was written across her features as she tried to stealthily catch his attention. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and when she flicked her eyes at Robin he could tell she was asking if her being so quiet was normal, which was fair, other than sleep, Robin rarely stopped speaking. Steve didn't think he'd ever known her to be quiet for two solid hours before, but they’d shared a lot back at the summit and over the years he'd found that heavier conversations tended to take it out of her. He couldn't know for sure what exactly was going on in Robin’s head, but he knew she'd let him know as soon as she had it figured out.

He smiled as reassuringly as he could at Chrissy, trying to let her know that it'd be fine, that Robin was probably just processing, and she'd be back with them when she was ready. And the spooky thing was Chrissy seemed to understand him, sighing in relief, she sagged back into her seat, letting all the tension out of her body as she glanced around, soaking in the atmosphere. Up until a few days ago the only person Steve had ever been able to wordlessly communicate with was Robin, he always assumed it was because they were soulmates, two halves of a whole, sharing one brain most of the time, but both Chrissy and Eddie had managed to understand Steve and at times he'd been able to understand them too, and it made him wonder if maybe they weren't halves at all but quarters. 

Eddie had noticed their silent conversation and smiled gratefully at Steve, taking his hand to kiss each of his knuckles, then the back of his hand, then up his arm, getting grease and salt all over his skin. Robin finally looking up and giggling at Eddie's antics, some of the sparkle coming back into her eyes, Steve pulling Eddie closer, so he could kiss him on the forehead, smiling appreciatively at the love of his life.

He'd never had a partner who cared as much as Eddie did, who made life fun, who was willing to be silly just to make someone smile, and honestly, Steve couldn't quite believe he was real sometimes. Just the amount of tiny things Eddie had been doing in the short time they'd been together that made Eddie so perfect, he just blew Steve's mind and by this point, he was under no illusions, he was already head over heels in love.

He was on the verge of freaking out about the consequences of that particular realisation when Robin broke his train of thought, "Evie!" she singsonged.

Parking his emotional crisis until later, he gave his best friend his undivided attention, "Yes, Bobs?" he asked.

Robin looked so serious, he assumed she was about to tell a joke. It was just what she did, like she had to think hard about something awful in order to get through the whole joke without bursting into hysterics. "I want a tattoo!" she declared, throwing Steve completely.

He wasn't sure where she was going, if she was joking or not, it was disconcerting. He blinked owlishly and with a nervous giggle said, "Okay?"

Of course, Robin didn't appreciate that, she scowled at Steve, "I mean now," she insisted.

Steve was surprised, it wasn't something she'd ever mentioned, and over the years they'd talked about near enough everything there was to talk about. The last thing he wanted her to do was to make a spontaneous decision on something so permanent, "Oh! Don't you have to research that kinda thing?" he asked, trying to make sure he sounded curious and not judgemental.

Robin wasn't fazed though, she just snorted, "Like you should research wedding venues?" she snarked.

Chrissy and Eddie burst into hysterics and all Steve could do was blush, fair point, "Touché!" he chuckled.

Eddie smiled gently at him, putting his hand on Steve's knee and reassuringly rubbing his thumb back and forth, "What're you after, Songbird?" he asked her.

Robin shrugged, "I dunno, lights? Stars? I want it here," she explained, showing Eddie the inside of her middle finger, "So something small, y'know?"

-----------------------------

Eddie nodded intrigued, looked excitedly at Chrissy and exclaimed, "Don't worry, I know just the place!"

Part 7

Tag list @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @adhdsummer @nerdfighteratheart @anaibis @hbyrde36 @dolphincliffs @marinarasarah @deadflowercollector @lunabookworm @a-couchpotato @wonderland-girl143-blog @ddharrington feel free to lmk if you want removing 💖

#this has been proof read to death i just suck at this i'm sorry #i love you guys for sticking with this dumb story #steddie vegas au #steddie au #steddie #background buckingham #platonic stobin #platonic hellcheer #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #steve's pov #aj writes

[galeslovesickcleric24]

How to Save a Life - My Cleric Tav x Gale - Part I

Fic Summary: An adventure between our beloved party, Rosemary and her beloved wizard from the City of Splendours. A story I would consider to be timeless, hopelessly romantic and cheesy and dramatic at the best and worst of times.

A cleric, born on the shores of the Moonshae Isles, hopes to be the hero her goddess believes she can be. But, it wasn't her plan to fall for the one she's supposed to be saving. Can she save both herself and him before their time runs out?

Click here to read on AO3!

A/N: We've read all this before! I know! But have it combined! And expect longer parts from here on out! Thank you!

Part I: A Magical Meeting

Words: 3,240

Chapter Summary: After the nautiloid crash, our hero and her new-found ally try to navigate their new surroundings. While on their trek, the pair stumble across a rather magical rock. Who, or what, awaits them?  As two evolve into three, our band of heroes keep on the muddy path to find themselves a healer. As they keep onwards, they stumble across a rather pasty fella with rather sharp front teeth. Could he be a potential ally? Or a dangerous foe?

“Careful, there’s fire there,” Rosemary warns, promptly jumping over the embers, offering out her hand to her fellow crash-site outlander.

“Thank you,” Shadowheart shows a fairly grateful smile, taking the elf’s guiding hand with grace. “So, how did you end up in Baldur’s Gate? And at such an inopportune time?” She quizzes, her brow furrowing with intrigue.

“My dad was in the Gate on business with my elder brother. I tagged along on my religious pilgrimage. It was also a way for me to get out of the temple. Dad thinks I spend too much time in there as it is,” the cleric explains, toddling along the winding dirt road. Her chain shirt jingles with every step she takes, head swaying every which way as she takes in the various shades of green around them. “I’d just finished a prayer, funnily enough, when the nautiloid swept me up. And, now, I’m a vessel for some monsters’ spawn. Mystra be with us all.” 

“Yes. The sooner we find a healer, the better. I’m not sure how much longer I can take the feeling of something writhing behind my eye,” the half-elf sighs, her dark ponytail swishing behind her as she struts alongside her new ally. 

As the road begins to fork, the pair reach a large stone adorned with a rather large, rather unstable purple mass of a sigil. Magic erratically glitters and churns from it like that of a starving creature. The elves look between themselves, both of them nothing short of stunned at the sight of the arcana-engulfed geology. 

“You see it too, right?” Rosemary quires, head cocked to the side like a curious puppy.

“It’s hard to miss,” Shadowheart quips, “It’s large, unstable and unnaturally purple.” 

“It…looks like some kind of portal, don’t you think? Do you think someone’s inside? Or trying to escape it?” 

“I’m not sure. But I wouldn’t go near it, if I were you. It’s much too dangerous,” the half-elven cleric warns, taking a cautious stride backwards.

“What if there is someone stuck? Shouldn’t we help?” Rose protests, concern beginning to iron creases into the skin of her forehead. 

“I’m sure if they got themselves into that mess, they can get themselves out of it. Let’s help ourselves first. That is if you value both your mind and hands.”

“I-..” Rosemary begins to protest, words failing to portray her feelings towards her companion’s lack of empathy. With a dismissing shrug of her shoulders; Rosemary’s face turns determined, “If you don’t want to help, I will,” with nothing but blatant ignorance, her pace picks up into a light jog; right towards the sigil. 

“What are you doing?!” Shadowheart scolds, “Do you have a death wish?”

“No. Well- I don’t think so. I just want to be helpful,” the elf shrugs once again. 

Her ally rolls her eyes at the fellow cleric and her naivety: “Go ahead. But I won’t be reviving you.”

“I won’t need reviving. …I don’t think.” 

Despite Shadowheart’s heeds, Rosemary reaches a hand out at the sigil, the crackling magic singing her fingertips the second they brush against the jagged surface. With a yelp, she immediately retracts her hand and begins waving it about to rid her digits of the horrific, sorcerous tingling that now plagues them. 

As if on cue, an unfamiliar hand suddenly pokes out of the centre of the swirling mass as if it were reaching for something just out of sight. A masculine voice follows the hand directly in toe, the words echoing from inside the amethyst portal.

“A hand? Anyone?” He calls, beckoning his aid. 

Rosemary throws a concerned gaze to Shadowheart, who just simply shrugs and shakes her head. Unsure of her goal, the elf collides her palm with that of the stranger’s, allowing herself an amused smile to be painted across her lips.

“Ow!” The voice scolds, “Perhaps I should’ve clarified? Hm? A helping hand? Anyone?” He desperately reiterates, beckoning his hand once more. It takes a moment, but an idea springs to life in Rosemary’s mind. Reaching a hand out to the sigil once more, the cleric opens her mind to her Lady’s weave; subconsciously chanting a soothing prayer to calm the erratic magic. To both her delight and her surprise, it seems to work. 

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders! Now, a quick little pull should do the trick!” The stranger encourages, excitement clearly present in his voice at the potential of his release from this rocky prison.

With all her might, Rose begins tugging on his arm; hands clasped tightly around his elbow. Her heels stick firmly into the ground as she grunt and pulls with all the strength she can muster. 

“C’mon,” She pants and strains. Shadowheart stays on the sidelines, forehead resting in her palm as she watches her companion’s painfully foolish heroism.

One good and final tug allows the man to come flying out of the stone, the magic disappearing as the sigil finally stabilises behind him. Failing to move out of the stranger’s trajectory, the elf finds him falling directly on top of her.

The cleric’s cheeks burn the colour of red wine as she meets eyes with the bearded outlander that now lays atop her, mouth agape with shock and embarrassment;  his own cheeks a matching shade of pink.

“A-apologies,” he stutters, scrambling to get up so as to not elongate either of their shame. 

Rosemary gets herself up, dusting her person down once safely on her feet, “It’s fine! I-...I probably should’ve moved out of the way,” she excuses bashfully, her words accompanied with an equally shy neck rub; “Don’t worry too much about it.” 

The interaction allows Shadowheart an amused smirk, arms folded under her chest as she watches the pair make fools of themselves. 

“If I may, let’s start over,” the man offers, clearing his throat, “Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep. Thousands of apologies,” Gale reaches to shake Rosemary’s hand, his grip respectfully tight, “I’m usually better at this.”

“No need to apologise! Are you alright? That stone seemed to give you an awful lot of trouble,” the elf giggles, the conversation turning ever-so slightly less awkward. 

“A bit shocked, but, friend,” he smiles, “It is a relief and a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

“Thank you! Likewise! I’m Rosemary. It’s so nice to meet you, Gale.”

His smile only widens before his features turn thoughtful; “Say, but I know you, don’t I? In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.”

“I was! Yes! Along with my friend, Shadowheart, here! And a gith! That-...we appear to have lost track of,” the cleric frowns.

“That isn’t the issue at hand,” Shadowheart dismisses, “And we’re not friends. Allies, yes. Not quite friends. Not yet.” 

Gale brushes the half-elf’s defence off before turning back to Rosemary, “Well, with that knowledge, I can only assume that you too, both of you, were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region.”

“Couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” the pony-tailed cleric mutters, frustration spiking each word.

Rosemary cocks up a questioning brow to the brunette, “Go on,” she urges.

“The insertee we speak of, this parasite…” Gale begins to drawl, his words becoming all but a murmur to Rosemary’s ears as she begins to check herself out of the conversation involuntarily as she studies his face.

Delicate laughter lines frame the lower portion of his face, permanent creases etched into his forehead that indicate many years of either confusion or curiosity. Long, windswept brown hair that showcases silvers of grey hair that nestle themselves beside and behind his ears. Chocolatey brown eyes complete his ruggedly mature charm, a delighted twinkle appearing as his ramble continues on, his lips beautifully dusted pink. 

Despite only meeting him this once, she recognises him. The cleric isn’t good with names, but she can certainly remember a face. The only problem is, she cannot possibly think of where she could’ve seen a face like his before. 

Her mind wanders no further as she’s brought out of her thoughts by a sudden utter of: “It is to be avoided!”

“Uh- yes! We wouldn’t want that,” the cleric blindly agrees.

“You don’t happen to be a cleric, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” Gale asks, beginning to make odd gestures with his hands.

“You seem to know enough about our condition to realise it is beyond most clerics’ skills. Mine included,” Shadowheart states rather matter-of-factly.

“Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. Neither of you happen to be one of them?”

“I am a cleric! Yes! But, I’m afraid the power to remove this parasite is beyond me. I-...I can’t cure us,” Rosemary admits sheepishly. Shadowheart answers with a simple headshake. 

“As we’ve established, few enough can. It’s not exactly a common affliction,” Gale points out, “We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

“Sounds like a plan! You’re very welcome to join me! Well- us,” the elf enthuses, a wide smile coating her lips and her cheeks flushing just slightly.

“Most excellent!” He enthuses, “A parasite shared is a parasite…halved. Or something to that effect.”

“Then let’s go,” Rosemary keenly grins.

“Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone,” he bows his head with gratitude, “It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you, for I have a feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.” 

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time for thanks. Now, let’s get moving. We have a healer to find,” the cleric beckons kindly, taking place at the front of the group and beginning to wander back onto the road. Shadowheart follows, rolling her eyes once more; Gale not too far behind them. 

As they journey onwards, conversation sparks up between the trio. “So, Gale,” Rosemary begins. “Why don’t you tell us a little more about yourself? If we’re going to be travelling together, we may as well get to know each other. Build a little trust.”

“Let’s see. I hail from Waterdeep, City of Splendours. I’m a wizard of considerable acclaim and scholar of exceptional accomplishment,” he lists arrogantly, a smug smile gracing his lips, “I have a cat, a library and a weakness for a good glass of wine. And, if the mood takes me, I’m known to try my hand at poetry. There.”

“I don’t suppose you have any hand?” The elf jests

“Gods, no. I keep my poetry quite close to my chest, hidden from the eyes of others. Unless I’m feeling particularly generous.”

“Ah, I understand,” she nods, “Anything else we need to know? Do you have any stories to tell? I’m sure you have a handful up your sleeve. You are an archmage after all. Or- What are your hobbies besides poetry writing? What is Gale of Waterdeep like behind closed doors?”

“I have a great respect for privacy, especially my own,” the wizard notes.

“I can respect that,” Shadowheart agrees with a nod, “I suppose privacy will be hard to come by while we still have these parasites in our heads.” 

“Precisely. Even more reason to keep to oneself.” 

The trio continue to wander clearing to clearing, birds chirping the song of their adventure as they go along. The smell of the nautiloid’s far off smoke and spring shrubbery creates an odd aroma in the air, the pebbles and stones of the dirt road crunching under their boots with every step they take. 

A little further down the path, the casters come to a particularly green section of the shoreline; a pasty elven creature residing and peering into the small patch of tall green blades of grass beside him with nothing but curiosity, his brows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on something just out of the line of sight of the passing strangers. 

“Another crash victim, do we reckon?” Gale asks 

“I’m not sure,” Rosemary responds with a shrug, “I’m sure we can ask. He looks lost, the poor thing. Should we help?” 

“How many people are we going to help before we can actually get our own help?” The half-elf groans, “It doesn’t matter what we say, you’d help him anyway.”

“I’d want help if I didn’t have you guys around! I’d be grateful for any aid someone could offer me.”

“Thank the Gods we’re not as codependent as you, then,” Shadowheart sneers

Before Rosemary can retaliate, Gale inserts himself back into the conversation as to avoid any possible carnage that could come of this, “Now, now. While I see your point, Shadowheart,” the wizard meets the elf’s disappointed eyes, a small frown tugging the corners of her lips downwards, “Bear with me. Let me finish,” he adds, “While I see Shadowheart’s point, I do -  however - also agree with Rosemary. Maybe our situation calls for safety in numbers.” 

“The more people that know about our condition, the more vulnerable we become,” the cleric hisses. 

As her companions begin to bicker, Rosemary begins to make her way over to the milky-skinned elf; remaining at a gentle and cautious pace as to not startle him.

“Hello~?” She calls, voice soft and beckoning, “Are you alright? ..Sir?” 

He turns quickly on his heel; panicked red eyes meeting that of the cleric’s. “You. Hurry. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered,” he beckons sharply. With haste, Rosemary makes her way over, scanning the environment carefully. “There, in the grass,” the man points vaguely in the direction of the knoll, “You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.”

“I can certainly try,” she attempts to enthuse, treading forward to the grass; pace still steady.

As she approaches, the blades waiver and quiver; releasing a restless boar. It brays and huffs as it romps away, leaving the cleric confused. She tries to conjure up ways on how the elf could make such a mistake - mentally noting many differences between brain and boar. Before she can get too far into her thoughts, the unsheathing of a dagger pricks up her ears before she’s quickly pulled to the ground; a silver blade held a hair away from her throat. 

“Hey-” Rosemary protests, writhing in the elf’s grip, desperately trying to loosen the blade in his grasp. Her pulse races, heartbeat hammering in her ears and palms growing slick with sweat.

“Shhh, not a word,” he coaxes, a menacing touch to his words, “Let’s try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece. Hm?” Footsteps rally behind the pair, coming to a sudden halt as the stranger’s head snaps up towards her companions: “And you two - keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“Couldn’t agree more. But if you use that knife, I will incinerate you,” Gale chimes, his threat chilling his words ever-so slightly.

“And your friend with me? Hardly,” the pale elf chides with a tut, rolling his eyes. 

“We need her alive - Stow that blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get,” Shadowheart hisses, face crumpling with frustration. 

“Promises, promises,” the pasty one smirks, “But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

While his attention is elsewhere;  Rosemary manages to shove him away, scrambling to her feet and darting in front of her companions. Her chest heaves with anxious breathlessness, pants quivering as they leave her lips. “We don’t want trouble. You just- you looked like you needed help. Please, put the dagger away. We’re not here to hurt you,” she pleads. 

“I saw you on the ship, strutting about while I was trapped in that pod,” he spits, brows knit together with anger; raising his blade to Rosemary “What did you and those tentacled freaks do to me?”

“Nothing! I swear it! They snatched me up too! Me and my allies. We haven’t done anything to you. Yet.” “You arrogant little-” the elf cries out, gripping his head and doubling over. As her mind begins to twist, Rosemary almost follows suit, a meek whine leaving her lips as she presses her fingers to her temple and grits her teeth. 

Her head floods with images; the eyes she looks out of are not her own as she appears to be skulking about dark, busy streets. The cleric attempts to hold the memory, trying to press further, but the imagery fades back to the hideous tadpole they appear to share, capturing the pasty one’s fear.

The moment passes as soon as it came, allowing them both to relax; for now. 

“What was that? What’s going on?” The stranger asks, bewildered; his head snapping from side to side before his gaze meets Rosemary’s.

“I have..no idea,” the cleric shakes her head, receiving nor offering any clarity. 

“It’s those tentacled monsters. Whatever they did, whatever they put in us - just created a connection. They took you too. I saw it during…whatever just happened,” he sighs, “And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.” The elf grants her a smile, a small one but it’s a smile all the same.

“Apology accepted!  I might’ve done the same if it were the other way around. I’m glad we’re all caught up now, though.”

“Indeed we are. Please, allow me to introduce myself,” the stranger bows ever-so slightly to Rosemary, “My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Astarion. I’m Rosemary, this is Shadowheart, and that's Gale,” the cleric gestures accordingly to herself and her friends; who both look less than impressed, “I, too, was in the Gate when I was snatched. I was on business from my goddess. The next thing I knew, I was fighting my way off a crashing ship. And wound up on a beach with my fellow cleric and we recently pulled the wizard out of a rock.”

“A pleasure,” Astation nods, “So. Do you know anything about these worms?”

“The only thing that I know is that we need to get rid of them. The prognosis of keeping them is fairly grim.”

“Prognosis?” The male’s brow perks up in curiosity 

“It’ll turn us into Mind Flayers.”

Astarion breaks down into a fit of disbelieving giggles before giving a hopeless sigh: “Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?” He ponders for a moment, “Although it hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert - someone that can control these things -  there still might be time.”

“C-control it?” Rosemary’s voice is filled with nothing but shock, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, “We need to get rid of it.”

“Well, yes, of course,” he smirks, “But, first things first.”

“You should travel with us, Our odds will be better together,” the cleric offers, ushering her hand out to the elf. 

“You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea.” His response allows Rosemary a smile, smugly glancing at Shadowheart. The half-elf rolls her eyes, keeping her arms folded tightly across her chest. “And you seem like a useful person to know."

“Do you hear that? I’m useful!” Rosemary grins.

“All right. I accept. Lead on.” 

#storytelling #bg3 tav #story #my tav #tav #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 writing #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3

[treason-and-plot]

Vinnie has never hidden his troubled past from Georgina, nor the fact that he has spent time in jail. She doesn’t know why he went to jail, nor does she want to know. What she does know is that if he didn’t have a criminal record he wouldn’t have faced discrimination looking for a job, and he wouldn’t have been forced to work at The Pink Pony. And if he hadn't been working as Crystal's driver that fateful night their paths would never have crossed. So for that reason she's actually grateful he went to jail, she would never have met him otherwise! And why should it make a speck of difference to their marriage plans if he’s an ex-con, anyway? Georgina feels her face growing hot with the injustice of it all! What business is it of anybody’s? The only person it affects is her, and she has chosen Vinnie to be her life-partner, and nobody but her should be allowed to question that choice! Let alone this pasty-faced public servant!  

"This is so unfair!" Georgina says to the girl, her voice vibrating with righteous indignation. "Vinnie is the most beautiful, caring, loving man I have ever met, and to judge him for some youthful indiscretions is the height of hypocrisy! We all have things in our past that we regret! We've all made mistakes. The only difference is that Vinnie happened to go to jail for his mistakes! But he's paid his debt to society, and he should be allowed to live a normal life that's free of judgement and prejudice! He doesn't need to be punished again. It's a violation of his basic human dignity! And furthermore, you have absolutely no right to deny us a marriage licence based on the fact that he has a criminal conviction!"

The girl raises her eyebrows and looks at Vinnie with renewed interest. Vinnie glowers and a rumbling sound seems to come from deep within his core. The girl quickly turns her attention back to Georgina.

“That's correct,” she says. “We don't have the right to deny someone a marriage licence if they have a criminal conviction."

Georgina stares back at her, her face blank with incomprehension.

“However, we do have the right to deny a marriage licence if one or both of the applicants has any unpaid fines,” she says. “And it appears that you, Ms Goddard, have a number of unpaid parking fines totalling §817, including interest. Would you like to pay those now?”

“P-parking fines?” says Georgina. “Oh. Okay. So....you can give us the marriage licence if I pay the fines?”

“Yes,” says the girl. “We accept cash or card.”

“Card, thank you!" says Georgina brightly.

#Georgina #Vinnie #Vigina #Elope to Isla Paradiso #5 years later

[flowerpottlady]

Vivid

Day 9 of July’s @jilymicrofics! Sweet cake and a nice evening 🥰

***

The sky was orange, with little tints of pink and purple spreading throughout as the sun set.

It was the end to a perfect evening - a little too muggy for her tastes - but she was pregnant, the heat could not be helped. Clad in a large quidditch sweater, her last name across the back, one of the few pieces of clothing she owned that still fit her - and it wasn’t even hers; Lily waddled down the stone path of her backyard towards James, sitting on a picnic blanket they had previously spread out earlier that evening - sharing a plate of blueberry pancakes for dinner.

He was quiet, staring off into the horizon, and Lily nudged his back with her barefoot. “Whatcha ya thinkin about?” She asked.

“It’s peaceful here,” James replied, “here come sit down with me.”

Lily handed him the plate she had been holding, a fluffy white cake with raspberry frosting that Bathilda had gifted to them a few days prior, and James reached out his hand toward her - guiding her to sit on the blanket. It took a bit of time to squat down, until she was firmly back on the blanket, her bare legs stretched in front of her. James shifted behind her, spreading his legs on either side of hers, so she could lay back against his chest.

“Let me have a bite, that was the last slice.” James said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and reaching for her fork.

“Go ask Bathilda to make another!” Lily said, swatting at his hand and taking another large bite.

“You go ask her! She’s obsessed with you really.” James said knowingly, pinching her side and pushing her hair behind her ear to nip at the bare spot on her neck.

Lily rolled her eyes then, laughing. “Only because she thinks I’ve got ‘old,’ magic in me.”

“It makes sense, you know. You are older than me.”

“By two months you wanker!”

James nuzzled his nose into her shoulder, inhaling softly. “Mmm… my old lady - full of old magic.”

“If I give you a bite will you stop being mean?”

“You’re the one who called me a wanker!” He laughed, opening his mouth as she turned slightly, shoving a forkful of cake at him.

“That was delicious… really I wish we’d known her when we got married - she could’ve made the cake for us.” James mused resting his chin against the top of her head, snaking his hand around her waist - holding the side of her bump, pressing ever so slightly hoping to feel his baby move.

“We were handfast in the Astronomy tower, there was hardly time to get a cake.” Lily grinned, remembering that warm night at the end of their seventh year - the impulse, the exhilaration, the pure joy she felt kneeling across from James, a simple rope tying their hands together as they whispered traditional Celtic vows to each other. The sky was vivid then, orange, pink and purple painted throughout the sky - much like tonight.

“I loved that night,” James whispered, reminiscing - “the treacle tart and pumpkin pasties that Sirius and Pete got from kitchens really was the best cake we could’ve asked for.”

“Treacle tart and pumpkin pasty sounds wonderful.”

“I’ll ask Bathilda her thoughts the next time we see her.”

They were quiet then, for only a few moments - until Lily spoke up again, her voice slightly weaker, softer. “That was like a lifetime ago, like a dream almost.”

He pressed his mouth to the top of her head, the floral scent of her hair overwhelming his senses as he thought carefully on what he would say next. “A lot has happened since then, we’re different people now.”

“We’re gonna be parents, in just a few weeks.” Lily said, her hand rubbing down her bump, imagining her child - praying to a god that she didn’t believe in - that her baby would be born in August.

“I can’t think of a more beautiful place to raise him,” James replied, looking out into the distance.

“You’re right, you know.” Lily began, a hint of a smile growing across her face. “It really is peaceful here.”

***

Start from the beginning on here! 31 Days of Potters

#jily #harry potter #james potter #jily fic #jily fanfiction #hp marauders #james and lily #lily potter #marauders #hp fanfic

[rosaline-black]

ʙɪɢɢᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴀɴ - ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ

Summary: eddies ego usually gets in the way of seeing other bands, but when he sees you playing bass. He’s hooked.

Category: Eddie Munson X GN!reader

The buzz in the bar was far louder than normal, probably because his band wasn’t playing, Eddie mused mentally as he nursed the beer in his hand. Now as much as Eddie loved music, he rarely went to small shows like this one. Small local bands, he thought he’d heard them all, but this one? Never.

It must have been pretty trendy in Hawkins since he noticed a few of the more popular kids in his year dotted around the front. That was half the reason he was hanging back. As the lights began to dim, and the curtains slowly opened, the roar of the audience sounded. Eddie was almost jealous.

Taking a big swig of his beer, eddies eyes were drawn to the four band members on stage, the loud twang of instruments and the vibrations from the amplifiers flooding his senses.

The guy singing reminded him a bit of himself, loud and obnoxious, but talented. The crowd began to jump up and down wildly, drinks being tossed and the singing turning screaming.

Any other day Eddie would be eating this up, bashing people in the middle of the mosh pit. But he couldn’t move, his eyes were solely on you. Your fingers toying with your bass guitar strings as you bopped your head. You were a vision. Normally stage lights washed everyone out, but not you. It was as though the glimmer of heavens gates were shining down on only you.

Eddie could hardly breathe, he just stared. His lovestruck gaze went completely unnoticed as you played away. God no wonder people came to see your band if you were on stage with them.

The show sped by as though it happened in seconds, that’s how long Eddie stood in that same place. He watched as you left the stage, after the last song. He would have screamed encore, but words wouldn’t even leave his lips. Man, he hated rom coms, but you’d just made him believe in love at first sight.

Eddie made a habit of going to every concert you held, now not just gawking like a thirteen-year-old boy, but enjoying your artistry. As extroverted and wild as he could be, Eddie hadn’t gotten the gall to even speak to you yet. Not that he’d had a chance, at every show you left as quickly as you came, even when the rest of the band stayed to get shitfaced.

So today he had a plan, wait at the stage door like a fangirl waiting for George Michael, and catch you before you fled.

Ten minutes before he knew the set was going to end, Eddie crept round the back of the small dingy venue, palms clammy as he rubbed them together and paced back and forth rehearsing how he was going to introduce himself.

He wiped his hands on the back of his black jeans, the thumping of music coming to an end, which signalled your arrival. The door swung open moments later, not anticipating close he was standing or how fast you were going to open it, the door collided straight with his nose. A loud string of curse words left his lips as he doubled over and a pair of gentle hands captured his shoulders.

“Oh god… shit I’m so sorry…” you called out, very quietly. He was surprised someone who played such a loud instrument was so soft-spoken.

Eddie raised his head, a small bloody gash forming on his nose as smiled weakly “It’s not your fault… well it is!! But it was an accident… a complete accident…”

Your eyes widened like saucers as you forced him to sit on the curbed path. Rummaging through your bag, you pulled out a tissue “Do you mind, it’s bleeding…”

“Not at all…” he muttered, mortified at the subtle voice crack that sounded.

Eddie could only try and steady his breathing as you slowly reached out and dabbed at the superficial wound. His eyes watched as your lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He’d seen those fingers play bass, and now dab at his nose. His mind started to wander as to what else those gentle, loving fingers could do…

“All done…”

His pasty skin must have been bright red by now, lucky the streetlights were too dim to let you know what effect you had on him.

“Thank you so much y/n…”

Your face morphed into one of confusion, and possibly flattery?

“How do you know my name…?”

“Oh well… I’ve been to your shows… uh- I-I mean show… this one… your names on the poster…”

Eddie heard the gentle laugh leave your lips and he was now even more embarrassed. Usually, verbal diarrhoea didn’t affect him, but you had clearly cast some kind of twisted spell. Stripping him of all common sense.

“Sorry, I uh… I think I might recognise you actually… are you, Eddie Munson? I think I was in your English class a couple of years ago…”

If Eddie wasn’t so focused on the fact that had been in the same room as you for however many years, he would have noticed how embarrassed you seemed at the fact that you had remembered him from high school, and he seemingly didn’t.

“Oh god… you went to Hawkins?? Jesus… I thought I’d remember I face like yours…”

Ah. There was the flirty side Eddie had been searching for. He loved watching your lips curve up, your eyes casting down to your lap. God, you were precious.

“You were amazing by the way… I’m actually in a band too… I play the guitar…”

“Oh that’s awesome… you should show me sometime…”

And so Eddie did. Lots of times actually. I mean not as many times as he forced you to play for him, your gentle voice resembling a guardian angel. And now, well now he was lucky enough to hold the privilege of telling you how wonderful you were. You were his lover, after all, it would only be right.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[shares-a-vest]

i don’t like sand. it’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.

Word Count: 2.1k Rated: T for alcohol consumption and some flirty flirting.

Steve just wants to take Eddie on a romantic date to a secluded beach-like spot along Lover’s Lake. But they quickly find themselves battling a new enemy: sand. Written for @thefreakandthehair’s Spicy Six Summer Fanworks Challenge using the dialogue prompt, “There’s sand in my underwear.”

Thank you Lex for once again hosting a seasonal challenge 💖💖💖

And yes, this is THE whiney Anakin Skywalker quote. When this fic started heading in the direction of the boys running into some serious sand-based problems, I knew I had to use it!

(Read on Ao3)

Steve jiggles the last peg sticking into the sand, checking it is secure. He stands upright and dusts off the sand covering his hands as he admires his handiwork. Not too bad of a non-beach beach set-up on Lover’s Lake. A spot that at least mildly resembles a serene coastal location.

He looks up at the dark figure still lingering by the parking area situated under a patch of trees.

Eddie looks a sight, dressed head-to-toe in black – a cut-off t-shirt, shorts, and goddamn combat boots – as he twirls a matching umbrella and kicks at something beneath his feet.

“I don’t do hats, Stevie,” he said as they packed (or, more accurately Steve packed) for their beach date, deeply offended as he clutched a set of proverbial pearls.

Steve waves his arms, hoping to gain his attention.

But Eddie continues shuffling about, looking everywhere but down to their setup as he sips from a prematurely opened beer can. Steve is certain Eddie doesn’t realise he can see everything through his prescription sunglasses.

“Eddie!” he calls, the echo created from their seclusion drowning out his frustration.

He drops his hands by his sides when Eddie finally snaps to attention. Eddie perches his sunglasses on the end of his nose to dramatically examine the path down the small embankment where dry grass gives way to sand. He looks like he is about to scale Mount Everest.

Steve grumbles and places his hands on his hips.

It’s not like he had lugged down the tent, two towels, a small selection of hats he has at the ready for Eddie’s inevitable complaints about sunburn, his own flip-flops, a football, an unnecessary flotation device Eddie insisted on bringing from home, a radio, each of their designated walkies and a map Dustin forced on them, all the while being dragged down by an overstuffed backpack.

Despite Steve catching his eye without the full protection of his shades, Eddie still doesn’t budge. So, Steve decides on the one move that will get his boyfriend running to him.

At least he thinks unbuttoning his white linen shirt will do the trick.

As he starts on the third button (and refuses to break eye contact), Eddie stomps his foot at the show and scoops up their cooler. He takes a small step forward and begins tip-toeing down the steady incline at a snail’s pace by the time Steve is rolling his shirt off his shoulders.

He tosses it aside with a flourish, chuckling as Eddie very obviously picks up his pace. Steve flexes his shoulders, focusing on the soothing warmth of the summer sun instead of Eddie dragging their cooler along behind like a caveman!

“Come on,” he mutters as Eddie clomps through the sand, kicking up waves of it with each step of his boots.

His legs look comically pasty – vampiric, even – in the direct sunlight.

As he waits, Steve makes quick work of gathering up their supplies and places them in the tent. He figures Eddie isn’t going to want to spend any extended time outside. He’s going to have a hard enough time convincing him to take a dip in the water. Even in broad daylight without tentacled undead bats about to suck them into a hell dimension.

He emerges from the tent to find Eddie standing over him.

“What took you so long, sunshine?” Steve teases, flashy a toothy grin.

Eddie glares down at him and dumps the cooler in the sand. It falls sideways, its contents sloshing about. He holds up his beer can and examines it with great reverence and belches.

“Charming,” Steve mutters, focusing on the probable damage to the food in the cooler as he stands upright.

“Chug one, Big Boy,” Eddie challenges, jangling his tinny-sounding (and thus, near-empty) can.

He cocks his head with a dimple-filled smile.

Steve quirks a brow. He quickly upturns the cooler and snaps it open. Thankfully, their lunchboxes (a Star Wars one Claudia Henderson gifted him, and a Garfield box Eddie has had since he was in middle school) are still intact despite their shaky voyage down from the car.

Though the sandwiches inside might be more than a little askew...

As he retrieves a chilled can, Steve fishes in his back pocket for his flick knife.

“Yes,” Eddie hisses, eyes lighting up.

Steve spins it in his fingers, ignoring the Robin-like voice in his head telling him such a move is too dangerous for the sake of some hopeful flirting.

But it gets Eddie buzzing on the spot, more than eager.

Steve leans forward, angling the can in his left hand, the knife in his right. He stabs into the bottom rim of the can, popping it enough to drink from. Replacing the knife with his mouth, he starts drinking.

The beer is cool for a good moment, quenching a thirst he hadn’t quite noticed he had built up. But he only gets about halfway upright before the carbonation burns hot in his throat, the scar around his neck stinging. He screws his eyes shut, willing away the sensation as he feels Eddie’s worried hand on his forearm.

He pulls the can away, leaving the remaining liquid to spill around his feet and darken the sand.

“Fuck!” he strains, “Can’t do that one anymore.”

He splutters and gulps harshly, saliva doing nothing to soothe his throat as he laments the loss of his former go-to party trick.

“That was dumb,” Eddie admits, voice momentarily soft before he perks right back up and smirks, “I still think it’s hot.”

He winks and loops his arms around Steve’s shoulders.

“Oof,” he pouts, skirting greedy fingers across his hot skin before playing with the dampened hair at the nape of his neck, “You need some sunscreen, stat, pretty boy.”

He tugs at Steve’s hair for good measure and looks him over, greedy and hungry as his eyes flit down to his shorts.

Little does Eddie know he is wearing a pair of red swim briefs, courtesy of his renewed swimming pursuits.

“Well,” Steve pauses, clearing his throat once more, “Looks like we’d better get in the tent, then. Promised I’d let you lather me up, didn’t I?”

“Sure did, Stevie,” Eddie coos, nodding enthusiastically, “You absolutely promised me a day of slathering up Hawkins Public Pool’s newly appointed Swim Instructor’s musculature with some tantalisingly tacky cream.”

He wiggles his brows, pleased with his lame double-entendre. But his shit-eating smile quickly fades as he looks down at the mixture of pebbles, white sand and sediment beneath them.

“Sand,” he whines through gritted teeth, gesturing with delicate ring-adorned fingers, “My balls are already itching.”

He twists the tip of his boot into the ground and gives a dramatic shudder.

“Shut up and get in,” Steve chuckles, shoving him by the elbow in the direction of their shelter.

Eddie crouches to hop in, hovering as he unfurls the front flap. Steve waits.

And waits some more.

But once again, Eddie is unmoving.

He makes the executive decision to slap Eddie’s butt to coax him the rest of the way. Yelping at the gesture, Eddie falls forward, kicking sand directly in his face.

“God damn it!” Steve splutters, attempting to lumber in behind him, sunglasses now bespeckled with sand.

He trips on the plastic lip of the tent, momentarily tangling himself up in the front opening. Stumbling forward, Steve lands hard on top of Eddie with a loud yelp of his own and firmly squishes him face-first into the tent floor as another wave of sand follows him in too.

“Shit,” they groan in unison.

Steve rolls over as Eddie clamours upright, both of them slipping and sliding on the tent’s tarp lining and whipping all the sand they brought in across the shelter, thwacking it to the four walls.

“Great,” Eddie grumbles, scrunching his nose like a disgruntled kitten, “I already have sand in my hair!” he pauses and gives a loud sigh, “... I didn’t bring a scrunchie.”

He dry-sobs, screwing his eyes shut as he mopes in sand-drenched silence.

Steve reaches for his backpack.

So much for thinking he could solve all of Eddie’s complaints now that they have fucking sand everywhere!

He produces a red scrunchie he had bought from Hawkins Public Pool’s kiosk, an item typically purchased by the instructors and lifeguards Eddie has spent most of his summer seething over. Steve barks a laugh as Eddie snatches it up.

He attempts to look away from the admittedly very pleasant sight of Eddie tying his hair up in a loose, messy ponytail, but it is too late. Eddie is grinning back at him.

“Do I look as hot as your co-instructor Becky?” he teases, leaning in a mere inch from his cheek.

“Shut up,” Steve gripes, chancing a look outside for the forgotten cooler.

He retreats with the blue box to find Eddie now hurriedly rifling through the backpack.

“Eureka!” he announces, holding up a white and blue tube of sunscreen in victory. He dumps it on his lap and makes grabby hands, “Come on, Stevie, lay down.”

He slaps excitedly at the tent floor, sand dancing with every movement.

But he abruptly pauses, grimaces, and looks at his palm.

“Hey!”

Eddie wipes his hand a little too far up Steve’s blue shorts with vigour.

But before he can work out if that move was on purpose or not, Eddie is sticking his butt in his face, pushing him against the side of the tent with maximum impatience. Steve rips his sunglasses off, worried Eddie might be tipping them (and his tent-building) sideways.

A peg flicks against the back wall but Steve doesn’t catch whatever else happens. He ducks just in time as Eddie begins flapping his yellow towel about, sending sand flying – again.

“Oops,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek as he looks around, wide-eyed.

He shrugs and goes about smoothing out the towel.

“No shit,” Steve mutters as he looks over his own sand-covered legs.

Eddie soon turns, scrambling his way back to him until there is no personal space between them. He stares at his lips, eyes downright devilish and greedy as they roam over him.

Steve smirks, leaning back on one hand so his boyfriend can get a better look at him as he mulls over exactly when he should take his shorts off.

Eddie pops the cap on the tube of sunscreen and grins. A thick blob of the stuff spurts out the top of the tube and down his hand.

He freezes and slowly turns his head to look at the mess.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, voice impossibly small.

“You are such a dork,” Steve muses.

Eddie blushes, muttering to himself about the horrors of summertime, sand and Steve’s tanned shoulders as he dirties his t-shirt with spilled sunscreen.

“What can I do to make you feel better, hmm?” Steve asks as Eddie struggles to remove the cream from between his rings.

He nuzzles into his neck, pressing a kiss to his warm – if a little sweaty, and sand-coated – skin.

“This will make me feel better,” Eddie pouts, craning his neck for better access.

He takes the opportunity to slip his hand up under Eddie’s now tacky shirt, pushing it up until he takes the hint and removes it. Steve quickly moves onto his lap, straddling him. There is an audible swish and scrape as he goes – sand moving, sliding and sticking between them.

Eddie looks down between them and huffs out an elongated breath.

“Those – uh…” he stutters, pointing his index finger into his meaty flesh, sand granules digging in with a sharp sting, “Those might need some sunscreen.”

Steve hums, nodding along. He kisses Eddie’s pink cheek, his skin is hot and flushed with little sweat marks forming under his eyes.

“And your shoulders,” Eddie continues, running his hands up his chest, scratching more sand up his torso that feels like an impromptu exfoliant, “Gotta get those shoulders.”

“Totally,” he presses a kiss to his left cheek as he bites back the sting of the grains on Eddie’s fingertips.

Eddie lowers back on the towel.

Steve eagerly moves forward, intending to drape himself over him. But Eddie grumbles, tossing about on the gritty towel as he fists at the waistband of his shorts. He squirms away, screwing his eyes shut with a frustrated sob.

“What’s going on!” Steve yelps as Eddie narrowly misses kneeing him in the junk.

“There’s sand in my underwear!” he shrieks.

Steve rolls off him, course sand bits sticking all over as he falls onto his back with a thud.

So much for a relaxing day at the non-beach beach.

#lily writes a fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #this is silly #it was gonna be longer and way spicier but i wasn't happy with my super-long initial draft

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty

Yiorgos, our taxi driver, chugs up the driveway with his boot stuffed full of cases and bags. It is hot already, even though he told us that the winter drew on longer than normal this year, but now the summer seems to have come early, completely swallowing up the spring. The Cypriot heat is bone dry today, and when we step out of the car and take our cases with us, a haze of dust from the path rises into the air and leaves a thin film on my sandals. The sun is sharp edged on the stone of this old building, and a scallop shaped bird bath in the garden has dried up. I run my fingers through the ridges of warm stone as Yiorgos hauls all of Claire’s bags out onto the ground, and gaze out towards the horizon from this vantage point, high enough to see the pale slash of Coral Beach to the west and the blue ridges of the Cedar Valley in the distant east, yellow sun glancing off their inclines. The wind does not blow. It is perfectly, silently still. 

“It’s hot.” I declare, fanning myself with the paperback book I packed for the plane, and Jude pushes his sunglasses onto his face. “Is it?” He says vaguely. He is wearing long trousers and a sweatshirt, and Shane has the decency to look irritated on my behalf. “Some of us would find this hot, man, yeah,” He says. “We weren’t all dragged up in the Chihuahuan Desert, or whatever it’s called,” He wipes sweat from his brow and begins hauling some of the bags up the steps to the worn wooden doors at the entrance of the house. There is an arc of sweat on his back, and hair at the nape of his neck is damp with it. He was never all that great in the sun. 

When Claire throws open the doors she does so with great flourish, and then flits through the house and does the same to all of them. I spot her up on the balcony above the pomegranate trees as I carry my things inside, like a Disney princess with her long, thick hair swishing around her shoulders, the look of complete and utter bliss fixed upon her pretty face. She was so excited about this holiday, and now being here, seeing how beautiful it is after all of the meticulous planning, I feel like I can relax. 

The house, with its smooth plastered walls is cool inside, as though the thick stone has held onto the damp of winter, but still, I go to the sink in the kitchen to get a palm full of water for my hot forehead. The shutters there are thrown open to a sea view, and far to the north east of the bay where the white sand meets the cliffs, a huge, top heavy rock juts out of the sea. I am squinting at it when Jude comes up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist. 

“It’s Aphrodite’s Rock,” I tell him. “I read about it in that guide at the tourist office. The myths say that she was born right there at that very spot.”

“She’s the Greek’s answer to Venus, right? Goddess of Love and beauty.”

“And marriage and prostitution and all of that fun stuff.”

“I bet she was a wild gal back in the BC days.”

“You know that the guide also said that that portion of the beach was voted the top place in the Mediterranean to have sex,” I don’t know why I just said that, and stiffen awkwardly in his arms, quickly adding, “It’s also a nudist beach,” as though that will save me somehow, but actually it only makes it worse.

“Oh,” He teases with a ticklish kiss on my cheekbone. “If you feel like heading down there at any point I wouldn’t be totally opposed.”

“Yeah, you me and a bunch of creepy old men, I bet, and anyway,” I twist around to face him “I’m already competing for time with your bloody thesis, I don’t really fancy wasting a precious day hiking all the way down there just to get my pasty baps out for a crowd of strangers.”

He throws his head back and groans, arms falling limp at his sides. “Please, we just arrived, don’t mention the ‘T’ word.”

“Get it done early,” I warn him with a stiff finger in the chest. “I’m not spending this whole holiday third wheeling it with Claire and Shane because you can’t stop procrastinating.”

“I’m like, 95% there. I swear, it’ll be like, one evening, max,” he whirls around and starts plucking bags from the heap on the terracotta tiles with a sudden burst of efficiency. “I’ll do it tonight, it’ll be over. For now we have to unpack and pick a room, and then I think we should take a walk and see if we can find somewhere to swim so we can get that sticky aeroplane feeling off us.”

“A room?” I echo, fixated on that part, “You think we should share?”

“Well, I don’t know,” He says, standing still with his arms full of cases. “Would you absolutely hate that?”

“I wouldn’t hate it, I just, you know…”

He nods, “We can sleep separately, I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sorry,” I add quickly, “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t want to feel kind of, situation-ed into something we’re not ready for.”

“Is that a word? Situ-”

“No.”

“Well, okay.”

“You’re not offended?”

“No!” He says, and rightly enough, he doesn’t sound it, but maybe he’s just a good actor. “It’s not like that with us, we’re going slow.”

I chew on my lip, “Well I feel like you’re just saying that.”

“Evie,” He sighs. “It’s different with us, I know that you’re anxious, and it doesn’t bother me. Actually, it’s nice, I’ve never done the waiting thing before, and I’m enjoying it, because I’ve been appreciating everything else that we’ve been doing.”

“Back when I was at school the waiting period was about eight months,” I tell him, and it’s just an innocent anecdote but I swear his face drains a bit. “Girls would go out with their first boyfriend for ages first, and if they made it as far as eight months then they’d get the ride. Usually like, in a car or at someone’s house party.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Yeah, right. That was just a stupid story, by the way,” I say hastily. “It’s not like that’s the pattern I want us to follow or anything, it just popped into my head there, and like, eight months is ages to wait, and it’s not like we even know where you’re going to be in eight months, sure you’ll be long graduated by then and you could be off anywhere in the world…” I trail off because his smile has faltered and he’s starting to look miserable. “I’ll come with you now to look at the rooms,” I seize a few more of the bags and follow him up the stairs to a creaky landing with shuttered windows that still block out the light. 

I insist that Jude take the double room out of pure guilt, even though he seems perfectly fine again, but mostly I choose the small box room because it has that very same beautiful view as the kitchen beneath it. Instead of unpacking anything I sit upon a painted wooden chair by the window and gaze out at the stillness of Pissouri, the azure blue of the sky and the brittle sand coloured stone of the cracked roads that wind up and down the hills. Once again I look for Aphrodite’s Rock and find it, as though a flickering torch of twisting flames was transformed into stone in an instant. The sand at its base unfolds into a meadow of Neptune seagrass, and I imagine I can see the goddess there, standing boldly in her nakedness amongst the cliffs. Somehow she sees me too, and she smiles up at me, her gaze unwavering, insistent and sure. I stare back until she dissolves to nothing in the blink of an eye. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: sex mention

[mycovenofchaos]

Hello Hello! Its me anon reader #1 or #2 whatever you wanna call me lmao, I did this reading about Evan’s possible future partner could be TW or Soulmate. I know Maddie did a reading on this before and it’s pretty similar to hers.

By pulling up my cards my question was 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙞 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙣 𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨'𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧?

The card I have here is 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀; this queen rules all elements of earth. Its a nurturing soul , who exudes care and compassion. This may give us a hint of how this future spouse/partner is like as a person, she is someone who is really grounded in their life. She have learned to feel her way through life, listening to her heart and her body. A high sense of spirituality could be, since 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗣𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀 has everything to do with earth, so this person may have an attachement to nature and everything that is natural, herbalist maybe or just her refuge she find it somewhere between nature. An old soul, that explains that her and Evan are past life lovers.

In and as the 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗼𝗹 card here: The Fool is all about beginning a journey, and is a great place to begin exploring the winding road that is the Major Arcana. This card is about someone who is ready to jump off the cliff. An enthusiastic, life lover and lusty type of person. ( I remember a reading mentioned his partner as this card i don’t remember when or who), could be also spontaneous, 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗹 card often describes youth so this future partner may be younger than him, and I don’t mean a year or two but more. This card is talking about a young energy. Also someone who is open to new experiences in everything including love. Whether it’s starting a new relationship, exploring an innovative career path, or simply trying out a novel hobby, the person influenced by The Fool is unafraid to step outside their comfort zone. The Fool may manifest in someone’s physicality through expressive facial features—a frequent twinkle in the eye or an easy smile.

Moving on to 𝙋𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚: I have pulled 2 Cards from the deck 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 & 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝘂𝗽𝘀. The first one which is basically 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙊𝙛 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨:

The Queen of Wands combines the inward focus of a Queen with the positive and dynamic energy of her Suit Element, Fire. Sitting on her throne adorned with carvings of sunflowers and lions. This is a very Confident woman, main character energy, it girl type of person. Could be an artist or working a career that demands creativity acting, modeling or music making.., unique way of dressing. They could be sometimes self centered and jealous. She may have dark hair or dark features, light skin. Regular white woman maybe, pale, pasty, fair…𝖾𝗍𝖼. (It’s crazy lmao how this woman is a mother of nature but also a main character it girl type of thing, could take Evan on a vacation to a farm somewhere with horses and early birds singing who knows 👀 ).

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥:

When I got 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝘂𝗽𝘀 tried to pull another card and finally got 𝟳 𝗼𝗳 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, Probably and possibly their first meeting would be somewhere crowded and full of people, work place or a resort, somewhere where there’s so much people or a party. Or Working together and they meet each other at a work place, could be friends to friends like mutual friends introduce them to each other. Possibly having sex after first date. Relating to 𝗞𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝘂𝗽𝘀 they may meets each other’s families after the second date.

Remember tarot is just for self reflection and guidance be open to all possibilities 😁

Guys, here’s a new reading on Evan’s future partner 🥹. It’s pretty similar to Maddie’s readings!!

Let’s call you “Anon Reader #1”, because Star has her own nickname!!!

✨ A gentle reminder: tarot is for fun and we should always take everything with a grain of salt and be opened to all the possibilities! ✨

#evan peters #evanpeters #evanpeterstarotreading #tarot reading #anonreader1