#matched clover closer to how i draw them

[scorchrend]

dark world college sprites featuring some minor edits to the others

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Orc/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,300 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You discover the quiet orc janitor at the library has a secret love of art. Seeing this softer side, it's difficult not to fall in love with him.

The rain poured down steadily outside Amber Hills Public Library, drumming against the window. 

Inside, the library was quiet, the usual bustle of the day replaced by the soft hum of the lights and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. 

Clover was still at her desk, finishing up the last bits of work she’d promised herself she’d do before heading home. She should have left an hour ago, but the sound of the rain was soothing, and she found herself in no hurry to venture out into the storm.

As she packed up her things, something caught her eye. Across the room, in the far corner where the art books were shelved, she noticed Sven, the janitor, still lingering. He was usually long gone by now, finishing his rounds before she locked the front door for the night. Today, he was moving slowly, almost deliberately, as he tidied up the area. Clover watched him for a moment, curiosity piqued. 

Sven was hard to miss. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, he was an imposing figure. He was big and burly and intimidating, but Clover had always been intrigued by him. There was something about the way he carried himself—quiet, careful, almost gentle—that didn’t quite match the image of the typical orc. She often wondered what went on behind those striking amber eyes of his.

She glanced down at her desk, debating whether to interrupt him, but her curiosity got the better of her. She moved quietly towards the art section, careful not to draw attention to herself. As she got closer, she noticed that Sven wasn’t just tidying up; he was lingering over one of the tables, his back to her, his massive hands resting on the surface. Then, to her surprise, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sketchbook and a set of charcoal pencils.

Clover froze, watching as Sven sat down at the table, opened the sketchbook, and began to draw. His movements were slow and deliberate, his large hands moving with surprising delicacy. She stepped closer, peering over his shoulder to see what he was drawing.

What she saw took her breath away.

Sven was sketching the scene outside the window—a gnarled old tree bending in the wind, its branches twisting and curling against the grey sky. Raindrops streaked the glass, and Sven captured them with such precision that they looked almost real on the page. 

The contrast between his rough, powerful hands and the delicate lines he was drawing was striking, and Clover couldn’t help but stare, mesmerised.

She’d never seen this side of him before. The quiet, stoic janitor was creating something beautiful. It made her heart skip a beat, and she felt a strange mix of admiration and something more—something that made her pulse quicken and her cheeks warm.

Clover took a deep breath, gathering her courage, and stepped forward. “That’s… incredible,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him but needing to let him know she was there.

Sven jumped slightly, his hand pausing mid-stroke. He turned to look at her, his amber eyes wide with surprise, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Clover felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have interrupted him.

“I’m sorry,” she added quickly, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just… I couldn’t help but notice your drawing. It’s beautiful.”

Sven blinked, clearly taken aback by her words. He glanced down at his sketchbook, then back up at her, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and something else—something softer. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

Clover smiled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry. She hesitated for a moment, then moved closer again, her curiosity getting the better of her. “I didn’t know you could draw like that. How long have you been sketching?”

Sven shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “A while,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping back to the sketchbook. “I, uh, don’t usually show anyone.”

Clover’s heart softened at his hesitance, and she felt an even stronger pull towards him. There was something endearing about the way he seemed almost shy, despite his size and strength. “You’re really talented,” she said sincerely, leaning a little closer to get a better look at his work. “You’ve captured that tree perfectly. It’s like I can feel the wind just by looking at it.”

He glanced at her, a small, unsure smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It helps to have a good subject,” he said, his voice still quiet but with a hint of warmth.

Clover’s smile widened, and she felt a flutter of excitement in her chest. “Do you draw a lot? I mean, is this something you do often?”

Sven hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, whenever I get the chance. It’s… calming.”

Clover nodded, understanding completely. “I get that. Art has a way of making the world make sense, doesn’t it?”

Sven looked at her for a long moment, as if weighing her words, then nodded again. “Yeah, it does.”

Clover found herself wanting to know more, to learn everything she could about this quiet, gentle side of him that she hadn’t seen before.

“Would you… mind if I watched?” she asked softly, not wanting to push but hoping he’d say yes. “I’d love to see more of your work, if that’s okay.”

Sven looked at her, his amber eyes searching hers, and for a moment, she thought he might say no. Then he nodded, a small, almost shy smile appearing on his face. “Sure,” he said quietly. “I don’t mind.”

Clover’s heart soared, and she sat down beside him, watching as he picked up his pencil again and continued to draw. She couldn’t help but feel a growing admiration for him, not just for his talent, but for the quiet strength and vulnerability he showed in sharing this part of himself with her.

She snuck a glance at Sven, trying not to be too obvious. Up close, he was even more imposing, his broad shoulders and muscular arms filling the small space between them. Except, it wasn’t his size that captivated her; it was the way his strong hands moved so carefully, so purposefully, over the paper. His eyes, deep amber and focused, held an intensity that sent a warm shiver through her.

Her gaze drifted from his hands to his face, lingering on the way his lips pressed together in thought, and she felt a strange, almost giddy sensation in her chest. 

Stop staring, Clover. 

She quickly looked back at the sketch, hoping he hadn’t noticed her watching him so closely.

Sven seemed aware of her presence but unsure of what to do with it. His movements were slightly stiffer than before, the pencil pausing more frequently as if he were trying to decide whether to say something or just keep drawing. Clover could sense his hesitation, the way his focus faltered when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

She decided to break the silence, hoping to ease some of the tension. “It’s amazing how you can capture so much detail,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I can see every drop of rain on the window.”

Sven’s hand stilled, and he glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a small, tentative smile. “It’s all in the observation,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “I just draw what I see.”

Clover’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, so close and so much softer than she was used to hearing. She shifted slightly in her chair, leaning a little closer, her elbow brushing against his arm. “You have a good eye for it,” she said, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t think I could ever draw something like this.”

He shrugged, clearly unsure how to respond to the compliment. “Just takes practice,” he muttered, but there was a hint of pride in his voice that made Clover smile.

For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the scratch of the pencil against the paper and the steady rhythm of the rain outside. Clover watched him work, her gaze drawn to the way his fingers moved so precisely, each stroke purposeful, each line deliberate. She noticed how his breathing seemed to slow as he lost himself in the sketch, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

The awkwardness that had hung between them began to melt away, replaced by a quiet understanding. Sven glanced at her again, this time holding her gaze for a fraction longer before quickly looking back at his sketch. “I… I don’t usually have anyone watching,” he admitted, his voice halting, as if he were struggling to find the right words.

Clover tilted her head, intrigued. “Why not? I mean, you’re really good at this. I’d think you’d want to share it with others.”

Sven hesitated, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. “It’s… personal,” he finally said, his voice low. “Something I do for myself. Helps me unwind, I guess.”

Clover nodded, understanding. “I get that. It’s like your own little world, right? A place where you can just… be.”

Sven’s eyes flicked to hers, a hint of surprise in them, as if he hadn’t expected her to understand so easily. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Exactly.”

Another silence fell between them, but this time it was less tense, more relaxed. 

After a while, Clover leaned back slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her. “I’ve never seen you stay this late before,” she said, her tone light, almost playful. “Do you usually sketch after hours?”

Sven’s hand slowed, and he glanced at her, the uncertainty creeping back into his eyes. “I wait until everyone’s gone,” he admitted, his voice gruff. “Got my own key to the staff exit. It’s easier that way. Don’t have to explain… this.” He gestured vaguely to the sketchbook, as if it were something foreign, something that didn’t quite fit with the image most people had of him.

Clover’s heart softened at his words, and she felt a pang of sympathy. “You don’t have to hide it, you know,” she said gently. “Everyone has hobbies. I like to crochet, sometimes cross-stitch.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and Clover felt her cheeks flush under his gaze. There was something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something that made her want to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that he didn’t need to be afraid of sharing this part of himself.

Instead, she just smiled, a warm, encouraging smile that she hoped conveyed everything she was feeling. “You’re really talented, Sven,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “I’m glad I got to see this.”

Sven’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something else in his eyes—something warm, something that made her heart skip a beat. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The way he looked at her, the way his shoulders relaxed just a little more, told her everything she needed to know.

She watched as Sven added the final details to his drawing, each stroke of his pencil deliberate and precise. The tree outside the window took on a life of its own under his skilled hand, every twist of the branches and streak of rain captured perfectly.

She realised, in that quiet moment, just how much she admired him—not only for his talent but for the person he was beneath the surface. The stoic exterior, the quiet strength, the vulnerability he showed in sharing this part of himself… it all made her heart ache in the best way. It was like discovering a hidden treasure, something beautiful and rare that she hadn’t expected to find.

Clover was falling for him, she realised—falling for this quiet, gentle man who hid his heart behind layers of silence and strength. 

As Sven finished his drawing, he sat back slightly, surveying his work with a critical eye. Clover could see the satisfaction in his expression, the small nod of approval he gave himself, and it made her smile. She was reluctant to break the silence, but the words were on the tip of her tongue, and she couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“Do you think…” she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “maybe we could do this again sometime? I mean, if you’d like. I’d love to see more of your work.”

Sven turned to look at her, his amber eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. For a moment, he seemed surprised by the question, as if he hadn’t expected her to want to spend more time with him. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile spread across his face, softening his features in a way that made Clover’s breath catch.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice low and warm. “I’d like that.”

***

A week passed, and Clover couldn’t stop thinking about Sven. The quiet moments they had shared in the library lingered in her mind, replaying themselves whenever she found a spare moment. She wanted to see him again, to sit with him in that comfortable silence, to watch the way his hands moved so delicately over the paper. The week had been busy for both of them, and she hadn’t had the chance to catch him alone. 

By Friday, the anticipation was almost unbearable. She had stayed late again, hoping to see him, but the library was quieter than usual, with only the sound of pages turning and the occasional squeak of her chair breaking the stillness. As she moved around the shelves, straightening books and tidying up, she found herself glancing at the entrance every few minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Finally, just as she was beginning to give up hope, she heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching. She looked up, her heart giving a small leap as she saw Sven standing at the edge of the art section. He seemed hesitant, almost unsure of himself, as if he wasn’t quite certain whether he should approach her.

Clover felt a warm smile spread across her face, and she took a few steps towards him, trying to make her excitement less obvious. “Hi, Sven,” she said, her voice light and welcoming. “It’s good to see you.”

Sven nodded, his amber eyes flicking to hers before dropping to the floor. He was holding something in his hands, but she couldn’t quite see what it was. “Hi, Clover,” he replied, his voice as low and rumbling as ever. There was a pause, and then he cleared his throat, his gaze shifting nervously around the room. “I, uh… I have something for you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “For me?”

“Yeah.” He finally looked up, meeting her eyes with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “It’s just… I thought maybe you’d like it.”

Sven held out the object he had been clutching—a small, neatly wrapped package. Clover’s curiosity piqued, and she took it from him carefully, her fingers brushing against his for just a moment. The contact sent a little jolt through her, and she quickly unwrapped the package, revealing a simple black sketchbook.

Clover’s breath caught in her throat as she ran her fingers over the smooth cover. It was a thoughtful gift, and she could see that he had put a lot of care into choosing it. She looked up at Sven, her heart swelling with warmth. “Sven, this is… this is so sweet. Thank you.”

Sven shifted awkwardly, his gaze dropping again. “I thought maybe you might want to practice. You know, together. If you wanted.”

Clover’s heart melted at the gesture. The idea of sitting with Sven, both of them drawing, sharing something as personal as art—it was touching in a way she hadn’t expected. She could see the nervousness in his posture, the way he was fidgeting with his hands, and it only made her want to say yes even more.

“I’d love that,” she said softly, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Really, Sven. Thank you.”

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he gave her a small, tentative smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

They sat down together at one of the tables in the art section, the same spot where they had shared their first quiet moment a week ago. Clover opened the sketchbook, flipping through the blank pages, her mind already buzzing with ideas of what she might try drawing.

Sven pulled out his own sketchbook, but before he started drawing, he glanced at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You said last time that art makes the world make sense to you,” he began, his voice careful, as if he were choosing his words slowly. “Is that why you draw?”

Clover nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over the paper. “Yeah. I’m not very good, but it’s like… it helps me sort through my thoughts. Everything else just kind of fades away, and I can focus on what’s in front of me.”

Sven seemed to consider this for a moment before he spoke again. “It’s the same for me,” he admitted, his voice low. “I never really fit in with… well, with what’s expected of orcs. My brother’s a blacksmith. My sister—she’s a professional wrestler. She’s on TV, actually.” He glanced at her, almost sheepishly. “Do you watch wrestling?”

Clover chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Not really. Sports isn’t really my thing.”

“Didn’t think so,” Sven said with a small smile. “Anyway, art isn’t… valued much. Not in my family, at least. So, I keep it to myself. It’s easier that way.”

Clover felt a pang of sadness at his words. She couldn’t imagine hiding something she loved so much, something that clearly meant so much to him. “That must be hard,” she said gently. “Feeling like you can’t share it with anyone.”

Sven shrugged, but there was a heaviness in the movement. “I got used to it,” he said simply. “It’s… different with you.”

Clover’s breath caught, and she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made her heart ache, and she realised just how much it meant to him to be able to share this part of himself with her. “I’m really glad you’re sharing it with me,” she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. “It means a lot.”

Sven looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. “Me too.”

They sat together in silence for a while, both of them drawing, the soft scratch of pencil on paper mingling with the distant sound of rain. Clover felt the connection between them grow stronger with each passing minute, a quiet bond that was forming through their shared love of art.

As they sketched, Clover couldn’t help but sneak glances at Sven, watching the way his hands moved, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. She could see the passion in his eyes, the care he took with each line, and it made her heart swell with affection for him. There was something so genuine, so unguarded about him when he was drawing, and she found herself drawn to that side of him even more.

Eventually, the rain outside began to lighten, the steady patter against the windows fading into a soft drizzle. Clover looked down at her sketchbook, surprised to find that she had lost track of time. She had been so absorbed in the moment, in the quiet presence of Sven beside her, that she hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed.

“It’s getting late,” Clover said softly, closing her sketchbook with a small, satisfied sigh. “I should probably head home and feed my cat before she decides I’ve abandoned her.”

Sven looked up, his amber eyes warm with the soft light. “You have a cat?”

Clover smiled, a little surprised. “Yeah, her name’s Luna. She’s a bit of a diva, but I love her. You like cats?”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of Sven’s mouth. “I do, actually. Grew up with a few. They’re good company.”

Clover’s heart fluttered at the idea of Sven, this big, strong orc, surrounded by cats. There was something so sweet and endearing about it, and she found herself wanting to know more. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, but it makes sense,” she said with a playful grin. “They’re quiet, like you.”

Sven chuckled softly, a low rumble that sent a warm shiver down her spine. “I guess so,” he admitted, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer than usual.

They both began to pack up their supplies, but Clover noticed that Sven seemed slower than usual, almost reluctant. She reached over to help him gather his pencils, her fingers brushing against his as she handed them to him. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she saw the same spark in his eyes when he looked up at her.

Their hands met again as she passed him his sketchbook, and this time neither of them pulled away. Clover could feel the warmth of his skin against hers, the roughness of his calloused fingers, and her heart began to race.

“Sven…” Clover began, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his. There was a question in her gaze, a quiet hope, and she saw it mirrored in his.

Sven’s breath seemed to hitch, and she could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his large frame casting a shadow over her, but his touch was still so gentle, as if he were afraid of breaking the moment.

“I… I like you, Clover,” he said, his voice rough and hesitant, as if the words were difficult to get out. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Clover’s heart swelled, and without thinking, she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against his. The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle meeting of lips that sent a rush of warmth through her entire body. Sven’s breath caught in his throat, and she felt the tension in him, the way he held himself still, as if unsure whether he should respond.

Then, slowly, she felt him relax, his hand coming up to rest lightly on her waist, pulling her just a little closer. The kiss deepened, and her knees went weak. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across her skin, and Clover felt herself melt into him, her body pressing against his as the kiss grew more intense.

Sven was still hesitant, as if he were holding back, afraid of overwhelming her, but there was a heat to his touch, a hunger in the way his lips moved against hers that sent a thrill through her. She could feel his heart beating fast, could sense the careful control he was exerting, and it only made her want him more.

When they finally pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Clover looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “Sven… I like you too,” she whispered, her voice filled with all the emotions she had been holding back.

He let out a slow breath, his hand still resting on her waist, his thumb drawing small circles on her skin. “I wasn’t sure…” he began, his voice rough with uncertainty. “I didn’t want to assume.”

Clover smiled, her heart swelling with warmth and affection. “You don’t have to be unsure,” she said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “I’m glad you said something.”

Sven’s eyes softened, and for a moment, they just stood there, close and connected, the world outside the library fading away. “Would you like to go out sometime?” he asked, his voice low, filled with a nervous hope that made Clover’s heart ache in the best way.

“I’d love that,” she replied, her smile widening.

A look of relief washed over his face, and he leaned in again, capturing her lips in another kiss, this one filled with more confidence, more certainty. Clover’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, their bodies pressed together in the quiet of the library. The taste of him, the warmth of his body against hers, it all felt so right, so perfect, and she never wanted it to end.

When they finally broke apart, Clover was breathless, her heart racing in her chest. Sven looked down at her, his amber eyes glowing with a warmth that made her feel like she was the only person in the world. 

“So,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in that way she was beginning to adore, “how about dinner next week?”

Clover nodded, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “That sounds perfect.”

Sven smiled, a real, genuine smile that lit up his face in a way she hadn’t seen before. He leaned in for one last, tender kiss, his lips lingering on hers, as if he were reluctant to let her go. When he finally did pull back, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

[tartarusknight]

I don't know what you're hunting. It's not me, it's something else - 10/10

Also on ao3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 (FINAL PART): to that bloodshed, crimson clover, uh-huh the worst was over

El was scared, deep down, of failing. Of being too slow and failing. She had already failed just earlier that night. When she saw Steve. As he ran forward, she was scared for him, of him, of it all. She had been too slow, and she couldn't afford to let it happen again. 

The Upside Down was just as cold as she remembered, and she gripped her sleeves tightly. Hopper had her back but as they stopped in front of the building, she just knew One was hiding out, she was still scared.

She looked back at the man who became her dad and took a deep breath. She had to believe that they could do this. Taking one last second, she pushed away her fear of not being enough. She thought of the people who loved her, trusted her, and cared for her. She let that power her as she moved forward.

She stood tall with people behind her as a backup. One's body was deformed, and she could practically see the anger radiating from him. Hopper took a step forward to be at her side and she knew she had to do this. She had to end this. She needed to stop him to save her friends. Her family.

Her arm raised and she didn't let One say a single word before she blew him backward. Satisfaction grew as he let out a pained grunt. He was weak, their past attacks against him having done more damage than they originally thought. She moved forward, Hopper matching her movements. His gun trained on One, firing a shot every time he seemed to attempt to get back up.

She couldn't afford to give him even a moment of reprieve. El's kindness- her belief that telling One about Papa's death would have an impact had failed her last time. She wouldn't be able to beat him with words. But she had strength. She had the strength to end this.

El let out the feelings that had held her down since was forced to come to the realization that Will was pulled into the Upside Down because of her. She fought with the anger that had come from seeing Max's broken form in the hospital bed. She screamed out her grief at the loss of Robin. She felt tears fall from her eyes like the blood dripping from her nose as she hoped killing One would save Steve and Eddie. She fought against him, knowing she had the power to end this for all of those who died because of this. Because of One.

~~~~~~

Mike ran, seeing Will on his left as they tore through the woods. The sounds of Eddie right behind them. The sounds of Steve off in the distance with their friends. Mike stopped abruptly and froze as they were cut off by a large crack in the earth. Will stumbled, unable to slow down fast enough and hitting the ground from the force of his stop.

Mike could barely catch his breath and heard Eddie's wings in the air. Without thinking, Mike moved and pulled Will to his feet. Before pressing him against a tree, a hand covering his mouth. In the air above he could hear Eddie's chittering. The sound was unnatural and close enough to a Demogorgon that Mike struggled to calm down.

He couldn't imagine the trauma it brought up for Will as they stood there trying to catch their breath and stay as quiet as possible. Will's eyes were wide, and he gripped Mike's arms that held him in place as if he was grounding himself. Mike leaned in a little closer to Will, thankful that at least he wasn't alone.

He could still hear the others in the distance, and he hoped that everyone was alright. But... he could still picture Dustin's scream as Eddie slashed at him. He could still hear the thud of Joyce hitting the van. The way Will shouted for his mom. How Eddie had turned to look at him, blood dripping from one hand. Mike hadn't even hesitated to shout at Eddie, drawing his attention.

Mike just turned and ran, hoping to give the others time. Only, Will had run after him. Making it so the two of them ran into the woods together. He had just wanted everyone to be okay. To live through this. As Eddie took to the sky to follow them.

Eddie let out another shriek before he seemed to give up on them. Mike didn't know what to do but as he pulled back Will shook his head and held him closer. They just stayed there for a couple more seconds. Just staring at each other before Will leaned away from the tree and into him.

Will let out a soft sigh and Mike shifted to pull him into a hug instead. The soft sound of surprise made Mike's chest tight, and he held him a little tighter to his chest. It felt like years since they had hugged like this. Tears welled up in Will's eyes and he hugged Mike back, the two of them just trying to calm down.

Only after another moment Will went tense in his arms. He pulled back a little and Mike looked over Will's face for a sign of what was wrong. His best friend had an almost dazed look on his face and Mike felt ice flood his veins. “Will?” Mike whispered as Will glanced around as if he was looking for something. Only he stopped when his gaze landed on the gate.

Mike didn't move as Will took a few steps towards the gate as if he was once again possessed. “Will,” Mike's voice broke, and he felt too loud, but he couldn't stop it. Will stood at the edge and Mike moved to stand next to him. He grabbed Will's hand and the boy almost jumped at the contact as if forgot Mike was there.

He looked at Mike, but Mike couldn't understand his expression. “We shouldn't go in there,” Mike tried but Will gave him an almost bittersweet smile. He looked back to the portal and Mike watched the way his shoulders slumped.

“I think I have to,” Will whispered.

Mike held onto Will tighter. “No, no this- it's affecting you again. We- we need to get you back to the car. We can get in the sauna; you can sweat it out.” Mike promised but Will wasn't listening. Will's hand pulled away from him and he scrambled to grab it back, but Will was faster. He shifted until the strange gravity around the gate, pulled him through. "Will!” Mike shouted as Will landed on his feet in the Upside Down.

Mike glanced around the forest before he followed Will through. He stumbled onto the slightly rotted ground. Looking around at the red lightning that crackled across the sky. He could hear the battle further away going on between El and Vecna. But he kept his gaze on Will.

He was looking up into the sky, but Mike couldn't look away from him. “Will, please. Just tell me what's going on. What can I- Will, come on, we- this is- I can't lose you.” Mike's voice seemed to finally get through to Will and he looked at him.

He swallowed as Will gave him a small smile. “The world is shifting. There's a- it's like a power imbalance. Like it's trying to break free from Vecna's hold.” Will whispered and he looked back up into the sky.

Mike looked up to see smoke billowing down towards them and he sucked in a sharp breath. But Will didn't look scared as it crashed into him. It moved around him so quickly it pushed Mike backward. “Will!” He screamed but as Will glanced over to him his eyes were black. Mike's heart broke as he realized how badly their plan was going.

Especially as he heard the shriek of Eddie getting closer. Knowing that he had been too loud and led the monster in his friend's body straight to them. Yet he couldn't pull his eyes from Will even as Will's eyes shut, and he looked at peace. The world almost seemed to spark around them, and Mike jumped as a vine shot out. It reached Will and soon more were pulling at Will, raising him from the ground.

“Will!” Mike screamed but was distracted by the sound of something going through the gate. The gate opened up as Eddie pushed through and Mike could see the inhumane eyes following him. He swallowed and glanced at Will. Will shifted and the vines holding him were almost glowing. The cloud of dust was lightening as well.

Eddie seemed almost confused too, frozen in place as he watched Will. Mike didn't know what to do but soon he knew his purpose. The dust shot out from Will, spreading out. The vines seemed to bloom with a new life as they dropped Will and slid back into the woods. Mike didn't think before catching his friend and holding him in his arms.

A panicked screak came from Eddie and Mike looked back as golden light, no, golden dust swirled around him. Pulling at him. Mike watched with wide eyes as the almost bat-like wings were basically torn into. The dust seemed to be pulling and pushing at him. Molding him anew.

Before he collapsed as if he were a puppet with its strings cut. He could see the way the darkness left Eddie's features. The shift of features under his skin. Mike felt frozen but Eddie didn't move. He just stared, dread in his gut until he noticed the rise and fall of his chest.

But then Will caught his attention. He blinked his eyes back open, his eyes swirled with gold that seemed to spread around them. Mike watched as it almost seemed to bloom out of Will and into the world around them. Filling it with life, looking straight out of a painting.

The ash-filled air, the black sludge, and the long vines that looked like tentacles all began to shift, to change. The air came out clearer, the sky shifting from red lighting and dark clouds into a hazy yellow. The trees shook off the rot until they were a light gray, with yellow leaves blooming on their branches. The vines shifted, going gray with little stems with more yellow flowers blooming out.

Yellow flashes of lighting still went off in the distance. But Mindflayer began to shift, and it lost its spiderlike form, instead, the rest of it was melting into the clouds and into the ground. The ground trembled as the smoke pulled chunks of the world into the air. Floating in the sky as if that's what it was meant to do. Pieces of the buildings were torn in two and collapsing to the ground.

“Will?” Mike asked and Will looked at his friend's big, anxious-looking eyes. “Are you- what are- you're eyes.”

Will blinked like he was confused, “what?”

Mike held him a little tighter, “They're glowing, like they- like golden.” He whispered but Will only continued to look confused.

“What's happening?” Mike begged to know, and Will glanced around them.

“I asked it to stop following One and be- to let us go.” He admitted, “I- it was like it was reaching out. Like it needed someone to push it to change.”

Mike's eyes widened, “when you said let us go- do you-” he looked over at Eddie in his arms. “Is it- is it really over?”

~~~~~

Erica curled up under Robin, but Robin wasn't attacking. She was frozen. Erica scrambled away and looked back as the darkness seemed to fade from Robin's features. She looked at Erica once more. Gone were the black eyes but instead her blue eyes were back with a swirl of gold within them. They were the best thing Erica had been.

Robin's arms shook until she collapsed onto the ground. Erica moved forward, watching in disbelief as the features that made her monstrous changed under her gaze. Like she was released from a hold. Erica reached forward slowly and as she took Robin's hand. Her hand was warm, and it made Erica choke out a sob.

Footsteps broke them apart and she looked back to see Sam Owens along with a couple of guards. Dr. Owens stared in shock at Robin before looking at Erica. Erica looked back to Robin instead. To the rise and fall of her chest. She was extremely pale, but she was there. Owens moved forward, checking a few vital signs on the older girl.

He let out quiet huh. Then looked at Erica, “I think we should get her in a hospital bed. She's gotta have a place to rest.” He says like she's going to recover. At her tearful gaze, Owen places a hand on her shoulder. “We're not going to let this miracle go to waste. We'll save her,” he promised, and Erica let out another sob.

She didn't let go of Robin's hand as they brought a gurney over and picked Robin up and onto the bed. Erica just moved in with her. Her lungs were still recovering, and her legs were weak from exhaustion, but she wouldn't leave her side. She'd stay by her side until she got better. Because Robin Buckley was going to get better.

~~~~~

Nancy moved to shut the door of the makeshift sauna when she noticed it. The shift of bones under her hands. She let go of Steve on impulse and Lucas seemed to do the same. Steve dropped to the ground with a thud and she winced. But then she saw it.

The way the black seeped from his features. The lines that formed the petal mouth, smoothed until they only had a faint thin golden scar. Nancy felt shock running through her bones. The radio went off and for a moment before a voice, Nancy didn't think she'd hear, filled the air. “You- you assholes did it.” Max's voice was dry and exhausted, but it was there. They all stared, frozen from the shock of it all. Then Lucas was taking the radio from her again and speaking too fast to even let Max respond.

She choked on a sob as Steve let out a low moan before he was blinking awake. She crouched down next to him. His eyes were the soft honey brown she loved so much but with a newer swirl of gold inside them. He coughed and black sludge escaped his mouth. His hand shook as he wiped his mouth. Without even thinking, Nancy helped him sit up.

He looked dazed and Nancy didn't know if it was from the sedative still in his veins or from coming back to himself. But she was patient enough to wait for him to snap out of it. “N-” His voice was truly wrecked, and it made him cough. She heard movement and Dustin, who was covered in a mix of Robin's and his own blood, came into view. He had a long cut from where his collar bones should have been to his hip.

Steve wasn't given a chance to notice the injury because Dustin was pulling him into a hug. Dustin was crying and Steve just melted into the embrace. His eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep in Dustin's arms. She couldn't stop herself from reaching over and taking one of Steve's hands. His hand was warm, and it made her relax a little more.

Her gaze left Steve's for a moment to find Jonathan's. Jonathan was over by Joyce talking, the two of them watching the woods. The radio with Lucas crackled, cutting off Lucas. “I'm glad to hear you awake, Max, but I could use some help.” Mike's voice broke through and Nancy let go of Steve, to come by Lucas's side. “Will and Eddie are both completely asleep and I don't think I could carry one of them, let alone two of them.” He said and Nancy's shoulders relaxed the rest of the way.

“What happened?” Joyce took to the walkie-talkie, her voice sounding nervous.

Mike let out a laugh like he couldn't even begin to understand what was going on. “Will- God it was amazing. He connected with the Upside Down and he changed it .” He said and Nancy looked over to Steve. “He asked it to let them go,” Mike said and Nancy couldn't even begin to understand how amazing all these kids were.

~~~~~

El stumbled, exhaustion in her very bones but she stayed standing. Not that she could say the same for One. He lay in a pile of debris, his body still. She watched as Hopper moved forward, gripping the sword he brought back with him from Russia. She winced as he swung down and looked away as she heard the way One's head rolled away from his body.

“Radio Owens,” Hopper ordered, “tell them it's done.” He states and then he's in front of her. She looks up at him, noticing the slight blood splatter on his shirt that hadn't been there before. “It's over, kid.” He says and she nods before leaning into him.

She was so tired but she blinked awake as the world shifted around them. Hopper's arm wrapped around her as the vines shook off the rot. As the world seemed to brighten and change for the better. El's eyes found the few flowers that bloomed off of the vines, a beautiful golden color and she knew... she knew who did this.

“What-” Hopper started to ask, the other military personal swearing and freaking out.

But she only smiled, “Will.” She said, sure and calm. Hopper looked confused but she leaned down and gently brushed her hand on the golden flower. It felt warm and safe. Like Will always was to her.

The red of the world, the infection that was One, faded away. Until all there was, was Will. He wasn't controlling the world, but he was helping shape it. He was urging it to pick kindness after years of violence. “We won,” she said and looked at Hopper.

However, she couldn't help but think that it wasn't really over until she saw her friends again. Until she knew for sure that they won. The people around them moved on their own missions but El just wanted to back to her friends. Hopper looked down at her and seemed to understand. He took her hand, and they headed back out of the cracks of the Upside Down. 

After they got a ride back to the hospital, she was close to sleep but she was forced back into alertness as they reached the front doors. The vehicle the others had taken was terribly parked by the front door like they were in a hurry. Along with a large dent in the side. She swallowed hard, forcing her exhausted limbs to keep moving. 

The hospital was a mess, with nurses and doctors looking frantic as they entered. She dropped Hopper's hand and as she raced towards the room, she knew at least some of the others would be in. However, as she got closer to Max's room. She saw the blood on the floors and walls. 

Her heart dropped as she noticed the door no longer on its hinges that should've protected Max. She ran forward and felt tears in her eyes. But as she looked inside, she was shocked. 

Max was propped up against some pillows, Lucas's hand in hers. Three more cots pulled in a squished to the side. A lump of dark curls and twitching muscles as they slept on one, Mike sitting on the end of it. Two people so intertwined El didn't know where one started and the other ended in the second one. And Dustin sat on the last one with a nurse patching him up, Will curled up on the end of that bed asleep. The rest of the party is packed into the room, either standing or sitting in the plastic chairs. 

Nancy pushed away from the wall as she entered and El looked over them all. Joyce moved and took one of El's hands. "We're all okay," she promised and El's eyes watered as she realized that it was truly over. "We won?" Joyce asked and El nodded in agreement. Joyce caught her as she hugged her mom. 

She looked over to Eddie who was passed out on a cot, twitching like a cat in its sleep but alive and okay. The two, Steve and Robin, words were so muffled that she couldn't make out through the number of tears in their voices. But they only sounded relieved. Dustin smiled at her, and Max offered her, her other hand. Proving to her that they really were okay.

El moved over and took the hand, exhaustion in her every movement. "You did it," Max said and El nodded. "I knew you could." Max yawned and El felt the tears beginning to fall. But they were happy tears as Max shifted just enough to let her curl up with her.

The party fell asleep in the small room. Too many of them to be comfortable. But not one of them complained. Not after the night they had. Not as the relief drowned out anything else. 

That was the night I nearly lost you. I really thought I lost you (The Great War - Taylor Swift)

Tags: @ellietheasexylibrarian@nburkhardt@artiststarme@flowers-that-sing@juleswashere3@indiearr@remosdeerica

[murdermeadow]

eugjrhrjhf I'm weeping over noahmio and taieunie again tonight. they both mean so so much to me and make me so happy but I think the ways their relationships and dynamics differ is also really interesting too

cuz like. in terms of noahmio, they have that sort of twisted fate style connection. they were born to be together, they will be nothing but intertwined. but Taion and Eunie? this was complete chance. like the lucky clovers Eunie collects, their encounter was entirely put into the luck of the draw (and the fact they're close to the two people who were destined to meet). but even that connection was chance as well - Eunie simply happened to be Noah's friend since before Aionios even began, Taion somehow managed to get placed in the same colony as Mio at around the same time. it wasn't strung together so easily. and I think that's what makes both relationships so perfect.

in the case of Noah and Mio, fate can be a bit of a cheating game. but this game, of course, handles it perfectly, making them a sort of subversion of the trope. of course, N and M were pure otherworldly connections, always landing them together, but this was Noah and Mio's first go around. they were recreated, somehow, by their own selves, manifested to life in order to repent for their mistakes. to have another go at it. and that's why they must find eachother again. they must love eachother, again. do it right this time. find their adoration and connection to eachother as a support, not a desperate rock to hold on to when all else in life fails. they're perfectly soft with eachother, letting their love be pure, untainted by greed or eons of decaying experience. simply Noah and Mio, fighting against their odds, fighting against a world that was built to be against them. they're perfect for the other, in every sense of the word, but it's never cliche. and that's what makes them so beautiful.

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND. we have Taion and Eunie. yet again, pure chance. no string tying their lives together above their heads. what's amazing about them is their growth. Noah and Mio's love is handed to them on a silver platter, Eunie and Taion's isn't. they have to learn to love eachother. hell, learn to simply tolerate the other. they have bickering matches, spats, frequent jabs and sarcasm competitions. but instead of driving the other away, it only brings them closer together. this is how they show themselves, before getting down into the deeper, softer parts of their hearts - their fear. I think their tea scene during early game is one of the greatest moments in the whole game because of just how much it tells you about both their characters. Eunie is scared. Taion is also scared. it's what drives them forward, Taion especially. they're terrified. and now, thanks to the boy in glasses keen observational skills, they share this terror. they share the understanding of it. they know that they can confide in eachother, that they can lean on the other when times get tough. it helps create this sort of fundamental truth and understanding between the two that helps forge an unbreakable bond. over time, Eunie becomes more aware of her feelings, while Taion continues to try and push them down to continue his own facade of confidence. the thing is - she sees right through him. she knows exactly what truly drives him, what makes him tick, how to push his buttons, all while keeping it at a safe level that doesn't go too far. Taion, meanwhile, has allowed himself to become softer in turn as well. he shows his embarrassment, his adorable nerdiness, his more simple fear as well. they too, are interlinked. but this time, it's learned. they've learned from eachother, observed patterns and processes, both inside an Interlink and out. and all this is what makes them perfect for eachother as well. they're perfectly reliable, dependable, without it becoming unhealthy. they love eachother, but never say a word about it, likely due to their own fears getting in the way (Eunie dislikes being vulnerable, Taion's simply too much of a coward to step up). so they adore the other in more subtle ways, their love stored in gentle gazes and kind actions. staying true to their roles, they heal eachother. and it's so so so gorgeous. they're so soft in their own silly ways and I love them both an insane amount

[rindecisions]

St. Patrick's Day '85 You Know Where to Find Me Part 2

Explicit | 10k First Blowjob | Chance Meeting

Find the rest and more here

Part 1 | Valentine's Day

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

“Do I really have to do this?” Eddie complained as Wayne fixed the bowtie to the impressively green suit he was forced to wear.

“Yes,” Wayne stated simply. “I told ‘em I would months ago before I got swapped to the night shift, so you’ll have to do it in my stead.”

“You agreed to it, not me,” he grumbled.

“Quit yer bitchin’. If you’re gonna act a fool, might as well look like one.” Wayne put a green velvet top hat on him and stepped back to give Eddie a look over. He was in a slightly oversized dark green faux velvet suit with gold clover details around the trim. The legs of the pants cinched just under his knee, showing off his white nylon-clad calves. His shoes were shiny black with a gold buckle that matched the one on the top hat.

Eddie took off the hat. “So, this is a punishment now?”

“How many times has Jim dropped you off in the last three months?” Wayne stated firmly.

“I don’t keep track of that shit,” Eddie squinted grumpily.

“Five, Eddie. Five. Be grateful he hasn’t locked your ass up.” He took the last accessory out of the bag, a false red beard and mustache combo that hooked over the ears.

“No,” Eddie whined. “I’ll wear the fucking hat, but I draw the line at ginger face pubes.”

“Eddie…” Wayne warned.

“Wayne!” Eddie pleaded. “Come on, isn’t this ridiculous enough?” He gestured at his costume.

“Just be glad I’m not forcing you to wear a wig or spray your hair red.” He hooked the beard over Eddie’s ears, finding amusement in his expression. It reminded him of a pissed-off black cat.

“The fact that this is in another town is the only reason I’m even kind of okay with this. If anyone from Hellfire sees me, I’ll never live this shit down. I’ll forever be a goddamn halfling bard to them.”

Wayne shook his head, having no idea what Eddie was talking about. “It’s pretty unlikely you’ll see anyone from Hawkins.”

“Let’s fucking hope.” He put the hat on and glared at Wayne.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Eddie was tasked with handing out gold and green plastic bead necklaces as people entered the festival. He took off the beard as soon as he pulled out of the trailer park and kept it tucked in his suit jacket. He plastered on a fake smile with dead eyes as he put the cheap jewelry over the heads of everyone that passed him. After a few minutes, he started trying to have fun with it and said various bad puns in his best attempt at an Irish accent. A familiar voice caught his attention, and he went pale as a ghost. No… He glanced up to see Steve Harrington paying the entry fee. Quickly, he fumbled for his beard and put it on by the time Steve arrived in front of him. His attempt at saying ‘Let’s shamrock and roll’ as he put a gold necklace over his head came out closer to “Le shmark a rall.” It sounded so far from English that he just hoped Steve thought he was speaking Gaelic or something. He tried not to visibly cringe when Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“You… too?” Steve looked very confused before heading into the fairgrounds.

Eddie watched Steve’s ass walk away in his usual tight jeans. As soon as Steve was out of earshot, Eddie cursed at himself and returned to handing out the necklaces. He was just glad that Steve didn’t seem to notice him, but now he had to keep the stupid beard on.

After about an hour, the crowd petered away, and the staff relocated Eddie to waiting tables at the pub. He was relieved that Steve Didn’t show up, or anyone else that he knew for that matter. There were a couple times Steve passed by the outdoor seating area and every time, Eddie made sure to hide before he could be seen. There was no way he was letting Steve Harrington see him in this ridiculous outfit.

It was getting close to sunset and Eddie bummed a smoke from the bartender before taking a break out back. He took off the hat and beard before leaning against the back wall of the building, watching the pop-up rides in the distance. Eddie found it comically dangerous to have rides running on a holiday for people to get smashed, but a large portion of the attendees were children and their families.

A rustling nearby caught his attention, and he looked over to see three men roughly his same age walking up. Each one was plastered with the same familiar grin. An expression that Eddie had coined ‘the face of overcompensation’. He took a long drag of his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, snuffing it with his shoe before they got too close.

The one Eddie assumed was the leader spoke first. “Aren’t you a bit big for a leprechaun?” The other two snickered.

Eddie stared at them flatly. “Aren’t you a bit big for your dick?” It wasn’t his best comeback, but he didn’t have the energy to be clever.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Steve wandered the fair. He’d gone there originally to see if maybe the out-of-town girls would respond to him a bit better, but he should have expected that most of the people there would either be couples, families, or men trying to get drunk. With a heavy sigh, he started to walk toward the exit when he heard a familiar voice. Eddie? He followed the voice and as he got closer; it was more obvious that Eddie was in some form of an altercation. A hint of worry built up in him and he picked up his pace, hurrying behind the bar-turned-pub.

He got there just in time to see a slender man in a green suit dodge a punch and sweep the leg of his attacker, toppling him to the ground. “Eddie?” He said without thinking.

Eddie looked over with panicked eyes at hearing Steve’s voice. The distraction got him socked in the jaw. He stumbled to the side, groaning, and elbowed the man in the nose. A metallic flavor filled Eddie’s mouth as he ducked under another punch. He fell on his ass when he saw the man that just tried to swing at him get punched square in the mouth by Steve. He wished he had time to process just how hot that was before spitting the blood from his mouth and jumping back into the fight. As Eddie dodged fists, Steve used the opening to land whatever blow he could manage.

Eddie wasn’t their only target now, and when he saw one aiming a fist toward Steve’s perfect face, he kicked the man in the ribs. Steve smirked at him in thanks. Together, they had two of their attackers on the ground, and Eddie landed the last blow to the leader’s cheekbone. He shook his hand as the man stumbled away.

“Come on, man!” One of the others called, already leaving the area. The leader glared at them and spat blood in their direction before following his friends.

Steve glanced over at Eddie, who was shaking the pain from his hand. The beginnings of a bruise had already formed on his jawline, and he had blood on his lips. “You alright?” Steve asked.

Eddie groaned. Now that the fight was over, he had to face Steve, looking like this. “Yeah…”

“You held your own pretty damn well. I’m surprised,” Steve chuckled.

“Not my first fight,” he said plainly, leaning against the wall.

“I could tell.” He glanced at the mark on Eddie’s chin, walking closer to him.

Eddie tensed slightly as Steve approached. “Didn’t seem like yours either.”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Far from, but we need to get some ice on that,” Steve tapped his own face where Eddie was hit. “Or it’s going to swell like a motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “I can probably grab some from the bar.” He pushed himself off the wall, flinching when Steve placed a hand on his chest, keeping him in place.

“I’ll get it. Wait here,” Steve said with a soft smile before leaving.

Eddie watched Steve walk away and smiled to himself, leaning against the wall and looking up at the sky. He sighed and let gravity pull him to the ground.

It wasn’t long before Steve came back with a bag of ice and a can of soda. He knelt down in front of Eddie and placed the ice pack on his chin.

”Thanks,” Eddie said sincerely, placing his hand on the bag of ice to support it.

Steve’s heart jumped when Eddie’s hand rested on his. He leaned forward an inch and froze, an electricity danced over his skin as he swallowed and glanced away, removing his hand.

Eddie noticed, and his heart took up residence in his throat. Did Steve almost kiss him? In public?

“Don’t mention it. I’m at least a little to blame for that.” Steve popped open the can of soda.

Eddie blinked and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re entirely to blame,” he teased with a smirk.

Steve groaned and handed him the can. “Sorry.”

Eddie took it and softened his smirk. “But seriously, thanks for the help.” He washed the taste of blood out of his mouth. “Hmm,” he hummed contemplatively, looking at the can of soda. “Blood and Coke mix well together.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back on his wrists in front of Eddie.

“What d’you think, Harrington? Think it would sell?” He altered his voice to match a commercial. “All new, Bloody Coca-Cola.”

Steve laughed. “Somehow, I doubt that would be very popular.”

Eddie smiled at Steve’s laugh and shrugged, taking another drink. “I’d buy it. I mean that Cherry flavor they released last month is going nuts.”

Steve shook his head. “But what happened?”

Eddie glanced over at him. “You mean the fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Just the usual. I was minding my own damn business, and some jackasses decided to pick a fight.” He finished off the can and leaned his head against the wall, holding the ice to his face. “So much for leprechauns being lucky.”

“Seriously,” Steve laughed. “Why are you here wearing that, anyway*?*”

Eddie groaned dramatically. “My uncle. He agreed to help with this event as a favor to his friend but ended up having to work, so he pushed it on me. Trust me, I don’t want to be here, especially wearing this shit.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say today is not your lucky day.”

Eddie looked at Steve. “Why are you here, anyway? Meeting a girl?”

“No, unfortunately,” he sighed. “Came here looking for a date, actually. No luck on my end either, by the looks of it.”

Eddie licked his lip as he thought, wincing when he ran over the small split on his lower lip. Did he want to push his luck with Steve again? A grin spread over his face. “You see,” he said smoothly, “I’ve heard that if you want luck on St. Patrick’s Day, you have to catch and kiss a leprechaun.”

Steve’s face fell in surprise at Eddie hitting on him so blatantly. His heart thumped in his chest. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about their last encounter a month ago. In fact, he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. Was it the same for Eddie? He bit his lip and decided to play along. “And where do you suppose I could find a leprechaun?”

Eddie quirked his brow and squinted at Steve. He set the ice pack on the ground next to him and picked up the ridiculous top hat, slamming it on his head. “Oi,” he said softly in a rather impressive Irish accent. “Ya going to kiss this leprechaun or not?”

Steve burst into laughter and glanced around, making sure no one was in sight before crawling up to Eddie and taking the kiss. His chest tightened, making it hard to pull away. When he did, there was a faint redness to Eddie’s cheeks that wasn’t caused by getting punched.

Eddie sighed and rested his head back against the wall, taking the hat off. “I missed that.”

“Same,” Steve chuckled, sitting against the wall next to Eddie. They were close enough that their hips and the sides of their leg were flush with each other.

Eddie looked over in shock. “Re—really?”

“Yeah,” Steve glanced over at him and raised his eyebrow when he noticed that he’d taken the ice off. He reached across Eddie’s lap to grab the ice pack, stealing another kiss as he did.

Eddie tensed at the close proximity, but leaned into the kiss, his split lip stinging slightly on contact.

“Keep this on.” Steve placed the bag of ice on Eddie’s chin and stared at his lips for a few solid seconds before sitting back on the wall.

“O—okay,” Eddie said tentatively as he supported the bag. Had Steve really been thinking about kissing him over this last month? He didn’t think that making out and hand jobs would have any impact on someone like Steve, someone that was known for getting around. Maybe doing it with a guy made it stand out a bit more. “Hey,” Eddie said softly, nudging Steve’s knee with his own and glancing over at him. “Want to get out of here?”

“And go where?” Steve furrowed his brow as he looked over at Eddie.

Eddie shrugged and leaned into Steve’s shoulder. “My place?”

Steve smiled and turned his head, placing their faces in kissing range. His heart thumped in his chest. “Would we be alone?”

Eddie turned his head a little more and licked his lips. “Yeah…” He said with a faint nod. The pull to kiss him was almost too strong. Steve was right there, and the smallest twitch would connect their lips. They were still technically in public, so he held himself back.

“Good.” Steve took the small lunge forward and pressed their lips together. Eddie gasped and shivered as soon as their lips met. He let the bag of ice fall and placed the chilled hand on Steve’s cheek. Steve turned his body to face Eddie and leaned more into it. When he pulled back, they were both panting. “Let’s get out of here.”

Eddie nodded and stood. “Do you know where Forest Hills Trailer Park is?”

“Yeah,” Steve stood as well. “It’s pretty close to my place.”

“I’m in lot 53. It’s a rundown piece of shit, but at least it’s a roof, right?” Eddie shrugged, realizing that a rich boy like Steve may hate going to a trailer park. “If you’d rather go somewhere a bit nicer, I’m fine with that, too.” He awkwardly glanced away.

Steve smiled and stepped closer to Eddie, taking a quick glance around as he did. “All I care about is that we don’t have to worry about prying eyes.” He placed his hands on Eddie’s waist and pulled him into a brief kiss. He smiled at the silly outfit as he stepped back.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie grumbled, noticing Steve examining his suit.

“It’s cute,” Steve chuckled.

Eddie furrowed his brow, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult.

Steve’s eyes hooded as he smirked and glanced over Eddie’s body. “But I look forward to getting you out of it.”

Eddie’s jaw fell slack at Steve’s words. “Yeah…” Eddie took a deep breath. “Let’s get out of here,” he said quickly, turning around and starting to walk away.

Steve hurried after him, grabbed his wrist, and spun him into his arms, taking one more firm kiss. “See you in a few.” He enjoyed Eddie’s startled expression for a couple seconds before letting him go and walking away.

Eddie stood there dumbfounded for nearly a full minute without a thought in his mind. He shook himself out of his daze and headed toward the entrance. He froze and ran back for the hat and beard he left behind the bar. A thought crossed his mind, and he snuck in the back door of the bar, grabbing a six-pack of green beer before hurrying to his van.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

When Eddie arrived at his trailer, Steve was already in his driveway, leaning against his BMW, smoking. Eddie took in the attractive sight before stepping out of his van. He sighed in disbelief when Steve smiled at him while taking a drag. “Hope you weren’t waiting long,” Eddie said as he approached.

“Nah, haven’t even finished my—”

Eddie took the cigarette out of Steve’s fingers and put it between his own lips. Steve smirked as he watched Eddie take a drag. “Come on.” Eddie nodded toward his trailer, letting the smoke freely flow from his mouth. He walked up the concrete steps and unlocked the door, stepping back to let Steve in first. He lightly chewed on the cigarette filter as he watched Steve’s ass walk into his living room. Once Steve was in, Eddie skipped up behind him, shutting the door. “Welcome to the Munson Castle.” Watching Steve look around opened his eyes to just how run down and messy it was. He started to feel a bit insecure about it. “If you think this is bad, wait ‘till you see my room.”

Steve smirked, watching Eddie take another hit off his cigarette. “Lead the way.”

Seeing no signs of disgust from Steve made him feel a little more comfortable.

Steve’s eyes landed on the green cardboard carrier in Eddie’s hand with six bottles in it. He squinted at it. “Where did you get those?”

Eddie grinned and held up the six-pack. “Consider it my compensation for helping at the fair.”

“A.K.A. You stole it.”

“No,” he chimed sarcastically. “Why would I ever do a thing like that?” He glanced over Steve’s body before walking past the kitchen and down the small hallway.

Steve chuckled and shook his head, following Eddie. He whistled when he walked into the room. “You weren’t kidding. Did a tornado run through here?”

“Told ya.” Eddie set the six-pack on one of his amps and pinched the cigarette in his teeth. He started unbuttoning the green velvet jacket.

“Woah,” Steve said, placing a hand on Eddie’s, startling him. “Not so fast.”

“I want to get out of this shit,” Eddie said around the cigarette. “I’m not trying to be sexy.”

Steve took the cigarette from Eddie’s mouth and quickly took its place. Eddie sighed into the kiss, sliding his hands over Steve’s hips. He grunted when Steve pressed his tongue through his lips. The invasion made his whole body light up. Steve leaned back, smirking as Eddie followed him. “Maybe I want to be the one to take it off of you.” He took a long drag of the mostly gone cigarette and held it in his lungs as he leaned forward. When Eddie parted his lips to accept a kiss, he blew the smoke into his mouth before locking them together.

Eddie swooned and gripped his hips, eagerly wrestling his tongue with Steve’s. There was a slight pain from where he bit his tongue when he got punched, and a sting from the split in his lip, but nowhere near enough for him to back out. He couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was in his room, let alone that he was making out with him, again. He could almost forget he was wearing a leprechaun costume. Steve stepped back, took the last drag, and put the butt out in one of the many ashtrays in the room. Eddie tensed when Steve shot him a hungry glance. “Uh,” he swallowed. “You’re a lot more forward than last time,” he said nervously as Steve approached.

“I’ve had some time to think,” he said coolly, placing his hands on Eddie’s velvet-clad shoulders and sliding them down his biceps. “I’ve decided what we did wasn’t a big deal.” He slid his hands over Eddie’s elbows and onto his waist, pulling him closer. “And that I wanted more.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped at Steve’s words, confirming that he’d been thinking about him over this last month. He grunted when Steve occupied his open mouth and started unbuttoning the suit jacket where Eddie left off. He placed his hands back on Steve’s hips and let himself enjoy the feeling of their tongues tangling.

After Steve got the last button open, he ran his hands up Eddie’s chest and shoved them under the collar, gripping the back of Eddie’s neck and pushing their kiss deeper. He felt Eddie grip his hips tighter and lean into it. If their mouths were any closer, they’d end the night with more bruises. Eddie was so lost in Steve’s mouth that he didn’t care about the split on his lip opening. He jumped when Steve pushed the jacket over his shoulders and down to his elbows. He didn’t fight as the jacket was pulled free of his arms and tossed aimlessly to the floor, leaving him in a white dress shirt and dark green velvet pants.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s narrow waist, holding him tightly in the kiss before pushing on his chest. Eddie shouted in surprise as he fell backward onto his mattress. Being on his bed while looking up at Steve, who was staring lustfully back at him with an obvious bulge in his pants, helped set things more into reality. When Steve said he wanted ‘more’, what exactly did he mean? How much was ‘more’? He gasped and tensed as Steve crawled over him.

Eddie’s nervous, wide-eyed expression amused Steve and made it hard to resist teasing him. He grabbed the collar of the dress shirt, getting another small gasp and a yip as he wrenched on it, forcing their mouths together. Keeping in the kiss, Steve started unbuttoning the white dress shirt. The idea that Steve Harrington was undressing him made Eddie's head spin. He'd thought about undressing Steve many times, but he never thought about the reverse.

When Steve got to the last available button, he leaned out of the kiss and straddled Eddie's lap, pulling the rest of the shirt free of the green pants so he could access the last buttons.

Eddie swallowed nervously as he watched Steve open the last button and fling the shirt open, revealing his entire chest and stomach. “You sure you're not drunk?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Last time you had to be drunk and high to be even a little forward.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“I’m completely sober.” Steve smiled and ran his hands up Eddie's bare chest.

He shivered at Steve's touch. “You... you can fix that,” he suggested, looking past Steve and at the untouched beers.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at them and smiled when he returned to staring at the nervous Eddie. “Nah, I want to enjoy you with a clear head this time.”

Enjoy…me? Eddie was floored by that statement. Steve may want to do this sober, but Eddie wished he was smashed and high on whatever substance he could get his hands on. He sighed at the pleasant feeling of Steve exploring his chest.

“I knew you'd have tattoos.” Steve chuckled and ran his fingers over the demon face on his pec.

Eddie smiled and relaxed a little. The dress shirt fell off of one shoulder. “That was actually my first tattoo.” He watched Steve's fingers press into his decorated skin.

“Does it mean anything?”

“Not really.” He shrugged. “I got it when I turned 16. It was the only present I ever directly asked my uncle for.” He chuckled airily. “I'm still surprised he let me.”

“Why that design, though?” He placed his whole palm under it, cupping Eddie's pec, and gently pressed his hand into it.

Eddie swallowed and took a deep, uneasy breath. “It was one from their catalog. I just thought it looked cool.”

Steve chuckled and ran his palm from Eddie's pec to his waist. “You're a surprisingly simple creature.”

Eddie snorted. “Did you expect me to be deep?”

“You have a point,” Steve laughed, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's ribs. “What about the spider?” He glanced at the black widow by his collarbone.

“That one's…” he trailed off as Steve tightened his grip on his waist and moved their faces close. “My…” His breath got heavier as Steve slowly approached. “Newest…” He tilted his head as Steve did the same. “You don't actually care, do you?” he asked with a smile, their lips on the brink of touching.

“Not particularly,” Steve answered honestly and pressed their lips together, tongues soon to follow.

Eddie pushed into the kiss, letting himself take Steve's affection as it was given. He shook his shoulders, getting the other side of the shirt to drop. He sat up, pushing Steve along by his mouth, and took the shirt off the rest of the way. After he discarded it to the abyss of his bedroom floor, he wrapped an arm around Steve's neck, holding him in the kiss as he slid a hand under the hem of his pale green polo.

Steve hummed into the kiss at Eddie’s touch, smirking when he felt the callouses against his skin. He firmly pushed on Eddie’s chest, sending him back to the bed. His smirk intensified as he gazed down at the shirtless man between his legs. Why wasn’t it weird? Why was he so attracted to this man? Why was he attracted to a man at all? Regardless of the reason, he was.

Eddie propped himself up onto his elbows and looked up at Steve. His jaw dropped as he witnessed a fantasy come true. Steve was taking his shirt off while on top of him. He huffed at the sight. He couldn’t count the number of times he had been in this exact spot thinking about this exact thing, without the leprechaun pants, of course. Steve was stripping, and he was stripping for him. He was almost convinced he had to be dreaming.

Steve pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Eddie's awestruck expression made him smirk. “What? Never seen a man shirtless before?”

“The last time a shirtless man was this close, he was trying to punch my lights out and he was nowhere near as hot as you.” Eddie eagerly scanned Steve's chest and the fade of hair over his sternum.

Steve chuckled and fell forward, placing a hand on either side of Eddie's head and enjoying his startled expression. “Well, I don't plan to punch your lights out.”

“That's good,” Eddie said quicker and higher than he intended. “What… do you plan to do?” he asked softly, examining every detail of Steve's face.

Steve smiled and bent his arms, lowering himself. “What do you want me to do?”

Eddie's breath got heavier as he anticipated the kiss Steve was suggesting. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to me, Harrington.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Steve teased.

“Get me a goddamn pen,” Eddie said in a serious tone.

Steve laughed and finally connected their lips. Eddie groaned and wrapped an arm around Steve’s bare back, enjoying his soft skin. He hummed as Steve slid his hands into his hair, tensing as one of the hands moved to his waist. He put more force into the kiss and pulled on Steve’s back, forcing their chests together. A sharp gasp escaped him as Steve moved the hand from his waist and to the black pleather belt.

Eddie’s fingers pressed into Steve’s back as his anxiety increased. Eddie’s trembling was somewhat charming to Steve. The fingers pressed harder into his back and Eddie desperately wrestled their tongues when Steve unclasped the belt. Eddie clenched his eyes tightly at the feeling of Steve popping the button on the velvet pants. Why is this so much scarier sober? Steve pulling down his zipper was as far as he could handle. “Steve!” Eddie gasped, leaning out of the kiss and looking up at him, terrified.

“You okay?” Steve asked, lifting himself to arm's length over Eddie.

“Ye—yeah,” Eddie sighed, pulling himself out from under Steve. “I just…” He glanced over Steve’s concerned face. “I need a drink.”

Steve chuckled and sat up, letting Eddie get off the bed and walk over to the six-pack. He watched him pick up the cardboard carrier and set it on the end table, sitting heavily on the bed. He pulled one out and stared at it in shock.

“What’s up?” Steve asked with his brows furrowed.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckled. “I thought I grabbed a pack of those cheap-ass dyed beers. Turns out someone swapped them out for Guinness.” He held up the bottle as proof.

“Shit,” Steve laughed.

Eddie shrugged and placed his hand over the top of the bottle, and popped it open.

Steve furrowed his brow, confused how Eddie managed that without a bottle opener. “How’d you do that?”

Eddie looked over at him mid-chug. He removed the bottle from his mouth with a gasp. “I used the back of my ring.” He turned his hand around and ran his thumb over the ring on his middle finger. He took another long drink. “Damn, it’s rare for me to get the good shit,” He said as he stared at the bottle in his hand.

“Maybe it is your lucky day,” Steve smirked.

Eddie leaned back on his hand and smiled at Steve. “I do have you in my bed, don’t I?”

Steve crawled up behind Eddie and ran his hands over his shoulders, receiving a sigh. “Then why did you run away just before I got to the good part?” He pushed Eddie’s hair aside and kissed his neck.

Eddie gripped the mostly empty bottle in his hand, shuddering at the foreign sensation. “Can you blame me for being nervous?” He downed the last of the beer and set it on the end table, sighing as Steve kissed over his bare shoulder.

Steve chuckled and stroked Eddie’s biceps. “You really are a virgin, aren’t you?”

“You mocking me, Harrington?” Eddie asked in offense, picking up another bottle and popping the cap with the back of his ring.

“I’m not the one running away from a blowjob.”

Eddie choked on his beer. “What!?” he snapped through his coughing fit.

“You said I could do what I want.” Steve smirked as Eddie caught his breath and looked at him in disbelief.

“And that’s what you—” a cough interrupted him. “That’s what you want?”

Steve smiled and stared at his lips. A few drops of beer clung to them from his coughing fit. He shrugged. When Eddie licked his lips, it snapped his attention away. “I’ve gotten so many. I’m curious what it’s like to give one.”

“Seriously?” Eddie skeptically looked at Steve’s coy face.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Why? Is that weird?”

Eddie raised his eyebrow at him and took a quick drink before tentatively saying, “I feel like you should find it weird.”

Steve shook his head in amusement. “Eddie.” He tilted his head to the side with a gentle smile. “I don’t care that you’re a man.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” He squinted at him from the corner of his eyes as he chugged a portion of his beer.

“I guess I’ll just have to prove it,” Steve said smoothly.

Eddie chugged faster, finishing the beer just in time for Steve to take the empty bottle from him. He watched Steve reach across him to set it on the end table before turning back and pressing into a kiss, shoving his tongue through their lips. The Guinness blended oddly well with him. Eddie sighed and placed a hand on Steve's waist, gripping it gently as he leaned in.

He gasped as Steve ran a palm up his chest, caressing and massaging as he explored. A small laugh was forced from Eddie at Steve's fingertips inadvertently tickling his stomach. Steve smiled and enjoyed feeling the muscles flex under his hand. He almost wanted to tickle him more, but decided to stay goal-oriented.

Eddie's eyes popped open, and he nearly shouted when Steve shoved his hand into the open velvet dress pants. He put more force into the kiss and gripped Steve's side tightly. The arm he was using to support himself trembled, and his fingers dug into the blanket as Steve started stroking his dick over his boxers. Ungracefully, Eddie moved the hand from Steve's waist to the back of his neck, pulling their faces closer. As embarrassing as it was, he was unable to stop his hips from moving.

Steve gently bit Eddie's upper lip as he slid his hand into his underwear and pulled out the erection. He enjoyed Eddie's shuddered moan and tightened grip on his hair. He increased Eddie's volume by gripping him tightly and pumping a few fast strokes.

Eddie gasped as Steve stood and removed the hand from his pants. He looked up at him and watched as he moved to stand between his legs. He huffed when he saw the bulge in Steve’s pants nearly at eye level, swallowing at the lewd thoughts that crossed his mind.

Steve swept his foot over the rust-colored carpet, pushing a Heavy Metal magazine, an empty cigarette pack, and a crushed beer can out of the way of his knees. Eddie’s eyes widened in complete disbelief at Steve kneeling in front of him. This is actually happening. He flinched when Steve placed his hands on his knees and ran them up the dark velvet. The silly pants took Eddie out of it.

“Can I at least take the rest of the costume off first?” He glanced to the side, having a hard time meeting Steve’s lustful gaze.

“Sure,” Steve chuckled and beat Eddie to the belt of the pants. He kissed over his stomach as he pulled the pants down, boxers included. He enjoyed the erratic flexing of Eddie’s abs under his lips and his soft, involuntary laughs.

Eddie took a deep breath and leaned back on his hands, lifting his hips so Steve could strip him. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that it was Steve that was stripping him and just wished the booze would kick in already. He didn’t want to be drunk; he just didn’t want to be able to think so clearly. Everything Steve did was anxiety-inducing, mainly because all of it was new. Every kiss, every touch, every glance… it was all unfamiliar and overwhelming.

When Steve wasn’t looking at him, he wanted to take every ounce of affection Steve offered and even give it in return, but as soon as those large brown puppy eyes met his, he wanted to turn invisible and run away. Was he allowed to react? Was it okay for him to touch Steve in the ways he wanted to? His heart punched him in the chest when Steve looked up at him. The desire to disappear crept back in.

Eddie’s nervous expression wasn’t one Steve was unfamiliar with. Most of the women he’d slept with were virgins. Were. So, he assumed Eddie’s anxiety was similar. What threw him off, though, was that he wasn’t sure the usual tricks would work on a man. The idea of calling him beautiful and treating him like he would break at the slightest misstep felt weird. He didn’t really know how to treat a man in this situation. He continued pulling down Eddie’s pants as he thought, finding it weird that he didn’t find it weird to be staring at a dick less than a foot from his face. He assumed Eddie’s nerves really had a hold on him, as he wasn’t very hard, far from flaccid, but far from erect as well. He tried to think of what to do as he pulled Eddie’s buckled black dress shoes off, followed by his pants.

Steve looked gorgeous as he undressed him. Eddie watched his bare arms and back flex with his every motion. After Steve tossed aside the pants and shoes, the only article of clothing left was the knee-high white socks. Steve stared up at him as he ran his hands up his shins until they were on his knees. Eddie swallowed and watched Steve wrap both hands around one calf, pressing his chest seductively to his shin, keeping a pleading look in his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the top elastic of the sock. He maintained eye contact and kissed Eddie’s knee. Little by little, he pulled the sock down, kissing his leg as it was exposed.

Eddie raised his eyebrow at the strange, yet still very attractive sight. Steve made his way to Eddie’s ankle and pulled the sock over his heel, kissing his way onto the top of his foot. He grunted when the foot he’d just released from the sock was pressed against his face, pushing him away.

“Dude!” Eddie snapped. “Don’t kiss my fucking feet, that’s gross.”

“Then can you get it off my face?” His voice was muffled by the foot on his cheek. Eddie removed his foot and grimaced at the thought. Steve chuckled and shrugged. “Some women like it.”

“I’m not a woman…” Eddie said simply as he let Steve take the other sock off normally.

“You don’t say?” Steve said sarcastically, pressing his hand on Eddie’s mostly limp dick, getting a gasp, a full body tense, and a strong flex of the cock under his palm.

Eddie looked down at Steve’s unfazed expression. “You really don’t care, do you?” His breath had already started to get heavier.

“No, not really.” He wrapped his hand around the dick and started stroking, enjoying the feeling of it swelling in his palm and Eddie sighing in pleasure.

Steve being so casual about it helped calm Eddie a little, even if he had a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation. Which could be, at least partially, due to the blood rapidly leaving his brain. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of Steve’s soft hand. He panted softly. At least this time, he felt like he would last a little longer. That idea flipped on its head as soon as Eddie felt Steve lick up the shaft. “Fuck!” he shouted and looked down to see Steve smiling up at him from under his dick, mouth open and tongue out.

Steve chuckled. “Why so shocked? I told you I wanted to blow you.”

“I just…” he panted. “I can’t believe you were serious.”

Steve kept his eyes locked on Eddie’s as he dramatically licked from the base to the head. The only thing that prevented Eddie from going cross-eyed at the foreign feeling was his desire to watch Steve in this once-in-a-lifetime position. He wanted to take in every detail of Steve’s expression, the way his cheeks had flushed a deeper pink, same with his lips, the way his eyes seemed to dilate and gain an unfocused appearance, and the way his dense, warm breath flowed over his cock. It was a sight he’d dreamed about, but seeing the real thing was something else entirely. He shifted all of his weight to one hand and risked running his hand through Steve’s thick hair. Steve’s faint hum at the contact vibrated through his dick, making him groan softly. A fog started clouding his mind. Now the beer kicks in.

The feeling of a dick on his tongue was far more enjoyable than Steve expected. It was unrealistically soft, especially the head. It was an attractive warmth, and there was an indescribable scent that made his head spin. Is this what the women he’d been with experienced? He licked his lips and lined them up with the head of Eddie’s dick. He continued to stroke the shaft as he pressed his lips against it. His heart raced as he parted them and lowered his mouth onto it. Eddie groaned loudly and tightened his grip on his hair. Steve felt an electricity on his skin at the feeling of the dick flexing against his tongue.

It took everything Eddie had to not push on Steve’s head. The feeling of his warm mouth was insane as it gently sucked on him. He knew blowjobs had to feel good, but this was otherworldly and beyond anything he could have imagined. He caught himself trying to push on Steve again and took his hand off of his head, putting it back on the bed to support himself. His whole body broke out in goosebumps when Steve looked up at him. Damn, he looks good with a dick in his mouth… With my dick in his… Eddie felt dizzy just from the thought, let alone actually experiencing it. He was irritated that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He didn’t want it to end so soon.

Steve closed his eyes and indulged in letting himself enjoy blowing Eddie. The feeling of it gliding over his tongue, filling his mouth, and teasing the back of his throat was almost addicting. He flinched when he felt a quiver up the underside. Was he close? He increased his suction and speed, gripping the base a little tighter. Eddie’s panting and moaning got louder. He could tell Eddie was holding back, thrusting his hips. A part of him wished he wouldn’t.

Eddie gripped the blanket under his hands and panted as he watched Steve through hooded eyes. “Shit,” he hissed when he felt a surge of warmth. “Steve, I—”

Steve glanced up at his name. As soon as their eyes met, Eddie groaned loudly and rolled his eyes up, twisting the blanket in his hands. Steve grunted in shock when he felt a flood of cum fill his mouth. He pulled back, and the rest hit him in the face. Eddie took a deep relieved breath and froze when he saw the mess he’d made of Steve, who was sitting there with his mouth open, cheeks, lips, and chin covered in cum, his cum. He huffed as a bit dripped from Steve’s lip and onto his chest.

The feeling and flavor of the cum in his mouth was beyond nasty, making Steve gag. He looked around for anything to spit into and grabbed the empty cigarette box he pushed aside. Quickly, he spat the semen out into the carton. “Fuck, that’s gross!” He spat into it again. “I think I’ll take one of those beers now.”

Eddie shook off his daze and grabbed one of the bottles, popping it open with his ring, and handed it to Steve, who took it and chugged. Eddie watched in awe as some of his cum dripped down Steve’s neck and onto his collarbone.

Steve gasped as he removed the bottle from his mouth. “No wonder women never want to swallow that shit.” He wiped his arm over his mouth and cringed when he smeared cum over it. “Where’s your bathroom?” he groaned as he stood.

Eddie swallowed, just realizing he was staring with his mouth open. “Uh, yeah.” He shook his head and stood, pointing toward his door. “First door on the left.”

“Thanks,” he grunted in disgust.

Eddie’s heart punched him when he saw the bulge in Steve’s pants with a small, dark, wet spot near the head of his dick. As soon as Steve left the room, Eddie fell back onto his bed and stared blankly at his ceiling.

Not only had he just gotten his first blowjob, but it was by Steve Harrington, the last person he ever would have expected to be okay with it. His head spun, recalling the image of Steve’s face painted with his semen. It was an image he hoped would burn itself into his brain, and he knew for a fact he’d be using that memory in the future. Slowly, he came down from the afterglow and sat up. He pulled the pair of black and red plaid boxers out from under the leprechaun pants and slid them on. With a stretch, he walked toward his open door, jumping when he met up with Steve, his face now cum free.

“Uh,” Eddie gasped. “I was going to grab some water. Want anything?”

Steve stared at Eddie’s face, eyes lingering on his lips. “Got anything flavored?”

Eddie stepped back to let Steve into his room as he thought. “We might have some Coke or something.”

Steve nodded and entered the room. He scanned Eddie’s body and watched him walk down the hall before turning his attention to looking around the cluttered room, his eyes landing on a pile of cassettes. He grabbed the half-empty beer and walked over to them, passively sipping what was left as he flipped through the tapes. There wasn’t much he really recognized. He’d heard of a few of the bands, but most of them were completely foreign to him. He set the empty beer bottle on the desk and held up a cassette for some band named ‘Black ‘N Blue’. Based on the album cover, he honestly couldn't tell if half of the band were women or not.

“Hey,” Eddie called from the doorway, getting Steve to look over at him. “Catch.” He tossed a can of soda at him.

“Thanks,” Steve caught it, trying not to shake it too much.

“Feel free to throw something on if you want to,” he offered as he sat on the edge of the bed, cracking open a bottle of water.

Steve set the cassette down and sat next to him, carefully opening the soda can, letting it hiss out before opening it all the way. “I don’t even know most of those.”

Eddie took a long drink, leaning back. Steve stared at Eddie’s exposed chest stretching as he drank. With a gasp for breath, Eddie sat up and chuckled. “Let me guess, you’re a top 40 listener?”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” He took a quick drink, the flavor of the cum was almost gone. “Top 40 just means they’re the best current songs.”

“I would strongly disagree.” Eddie hoisted himself to his feet and finished off the water, tossing the crushed bottle wherever it landed. “Just because the masses like something, doesn't make it good.” He knelt in front of an unorganized pile of cassettes under his desk. “Let's see,” he sang as he looked through the pile. “Something a pop-tart would like…” He said to himself, but just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve squinted at him mid-drink. “Pop-tart?”

Eddie chuckled and stood, holding a cassette in his hand. “My personal name for those that listen to that trash.”

“What’s wrong with pop music?” He defended.

“It’s objectively bad.” He shrugged with a smirk. “In my opinion, anyway,” he added quickly.

“Wha—” Steve knew there was something off about that statement but couldn’t pinpoint it and got stuck mid-word with his brows furrowed.

Eddie smiled at his ditzy expression as he took the album ‘Van Halen’ out of its case. “I have a feeling you’ll like some of these.” He held the tape between his fingers in display before putting it in the stereo on his cluttered desk and pressing play. He adjusted the volume so they could still hear each other over it. When the guitars started, Eddie spun and mimed playing along as he walked up to Steve.

Steve glanced around the room, noticing the multitude of guitars. “So, you actually do play.”

“What, did you think I lied?” He stopped at Steve’s feet and dropped his arms.

“I just don’t know many people that do.” Steve’s eyes scanned up Eddie’s slender body until they landed on his smirk.

Eddie stared down at him and gently gripped the can in Steve’s hand. “You done with this, good sir?”

“Yeah…” Something about Eddie towering over him was very distracting.

Eddie took the can from his loose hand and finished off the last sip before tossing it aside and straddling Steve’s lap, grinning when he noticed Steve tense and breathing speed pickup. He draped his arms over Steve’s shoulders and leaned close. “Now, I believe there’s something I owe you.” He pressed their lips together, sighing when he felt Steve’s cool hands touch his waist.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Steve laughed.

“Oh, but I do,” he cooed.

“Really, I only did it because I wanted to. You don’t have—” He gasped as Eddie shoved his tongue through his lips and moved a hand to his groin.

Eddie smiled as he felt a reaction to his touch from under Steve’s jeans. “Steve,” he panted, staring into his eyes. “I’m going to blow you.” He rubbed his palm over the growing bulge in Steve’s pants, pleased to feel his words make it jump in size.

“I… okay.”

There was a strange meekness to Steve that made Eddie want to exploit it, but decided against it. “Then scoot your fine ass back and lay down.” Having familiar music helped his confidence and calmed his nerves. Steve had already blown him. He’d made it obvious he at least wanted him physically, so why not take advantage of it? Why deny himself the luxury when it was literally being handed to him?

“Uh,” Steve swallowed and stared at Eddie. There was a new, more intense presence from him. It was almost as if he was a new man. He did as requested and pushed himself further back on the bed and laid down. There was a faint scent of cigarettes with an undertone of sweat that came off of his messy blankets and to Steve’s surprise, he kind of liked it.

Eddie smiled at Steve doing as he asked. When he crawled over him, Steve propped himself up on an elbow and met Eddie’s mouth, melting as their tongues intertwined. Steve gasped when he felt Eddie’s hand press to his groin and rub. They both leaned more into the kiss, Eddie more than Steve, pushing him back down onto the bed. Eddie messily broke the kiss and sat up, straddling Steve’s lap. He ran his hands up Steve’s chest, indulging in the soft skin and the feeling of Steve’s heavy breaths under his palms.

A bubble of anxiety grew in Eddie’s chest as he slid his hands closer to Steve’s hips. He was about to suck a dick, and not just any, but the one belonging to the man he's craved for years. He took a deep breath and pushed himself back so he was sitting on Steve’s thighs. He made quick work of the belt, button, and zipper in his way. First hurdle down. He slid Steve’s pants over his hips and stared at the trapped partial erection. He ran his hand over it, feeling it respond to his touch with a flex and increase in size.

When he took it out, his mouth watered, finally able to get a clear look at Steve’s dick. It was just as large as he thought it was. He smiled at the twin freckles under the head that almost matched the pair on his cheek. He gave it a gentle stroke, coaxing a groan from Steve. Eddie took one final look at the spread in front of him before pushing himself between Steve’s legs and lying on his stomach in front of him. He felt an embarrassment well up as Steve propped himself on an elbow to get a better look.

Eddie flashed him a nervous smile and pressed his lips to the side of it. It was warm and incredibly soft. His mind started to cloud as he ran his lips up the shaft and back. Steve’s aroma was intoxicating, and the soft, growl-like sound he made when Eddie licked up his shaft was better than any drug. He slid the head of Steve’s dick between his lips. The size of it almost filled his mouth to its capacity. He gasped around it when he felt Steve gently toy with his hair.

Watching someone on his dick was far from a new experience for Steve, but something about this time was different. It could be because it was a man, or it could be because it was Eddie. Regardless, it was a sight he wished he could capture on film. When their eyes met, they both froze, and Steve felt a wave of goosebumps on his arms. Eddie’s eyes were shockingly beautiful, especially at this angle. Thinking of a man as beautiful was a foreign thing for Steve, but it didn’t feel wrong. He found Eddie very attractive, and there was no point in denying that.

The passive toying of his hair slightly tickled his scalp as he slowly bobbed his head on Steve’s dick. Every texture was amazing and soft. The occasional hint of salt from his pre-cum was proof that Steve was enjoying it. That and his soft panting. His volume did make Eddie insecure. He worried that he wasn’t good enough. He tried to think about what Steve had done to him. He’d stroked the base with his hand. Eddie replicated that, getting a small groan of approval. Steve also focused a lot on his head. Eddie twirled his tongue around the stupidly soft cap of his dick. The hand in his hair gripped involuntarily, accompanied by a deep grunt.

With those little tidbits confirmed as Steve’s preferences, Eddie increased his suction and pushed the dick as far to the back of his throat as he could comfortably go. He made sure to grip the base firmly and follow his lips with his hand. Steve’s hand gently rested on the back of his head, not pushing or guiding, just a passive acknowledgment. As he pulled up, he flicked his tongue under the ridge of the head. If his mouth wasn’t full, he’d smirk at the twitch of Steve’s hand in response. The slickness of his saliva built up under his hand, allowing him to more confidently pick up his pace.

Steve groaned and gripped Eddie’s hair at the increase in intensity. Even knowing this was Eddie’s first time giving a blowjob, it was still better than most. If he deep-throated him, it would quickly be the best. With Eddie also being a man, he knew where to focus and where to apply pressure. He couldn’t call him skilled, but he knew what he was doing. He watched Eddie bob on his cock, eyes closed, cheeks flushed and concave from the suction. It was a sight that helped urge him closer to orgasm.

Eddie didn’t care that his jaw was getting tired. If anything, the stiffness was just another layer of validation. He’d been high on so many substances, but so far, this was the best. Nothing else existed except him and what he was touching. For all his mind cared, they were on his bed amidst a void. He groaned around Steve’s dick when he felt the hand on the back of his head gently urge him deeper. Eddie took in as much of Steve as he could and applied a strong suction, dancing his tongue around any surface it could reach.

Steve’s moans had to be his new favorite song. He could listen to them on repeat forever. If only he’d thought to set up a recording. He nearly lost it when he felt Steve start vaguely thrusting his hips. The feeling of the smooth, slick cock rubbing over his tongue and lips was mind-numbing. Even the sting of his split lip wasn't enough to distract him. He opened his eyes to look at Steve and shuddered a breath when he saw him laying back with his other hand running through his own hair. There was no denying it, Steve was enjoying himself. A wave of confidence flooded Eddie, and he began sucking with new vigor. Steve grunted loudly as Eddie put his all into blowing him.

“Fu—” Steve hissed. “Eddie,” he gasped. “I’m almost.” He moaned loudly and gripped Eddie’s hair tightly as Eddie only increased his enthusiasm.

There was no way Eddie was going to miss the chance to take Steve’s load in his mouth. He didn’t care how gross it was going to be. He’d tasted his own out of curiosity and pretty much knew what to expect. He fought against Steve’s tight grip on his hair to suck his dick with everything he had. A faint shudder up the base of Steve’s dick filled Eddie with excited anxiety. After just a couple more plunges into his mouth, Steve moaned, his voice ringing clear over the sound of the music. Eddie felt Steve press on his head and the warm, thick fluid flooded his mouth. It was one of the nastiest things he’d ever felt, and he loved every second of it.

Steve looked down at Eddie, who was gently sucking, coaxing every last drop out of him. After knowing what it was like, he had no idea how Eddie could stand having it sitting in his mouth like that. He coughed when Eddie met his eyes and swallowed with the dick still in his mouth. Fuck, that was hot.

Once Eddie was certain he’d bled him dry, he took all of Steve’s softening dick in his mouth and sucked firmly as he slowly slid it out. He enjoyed Steve squirming at the sensitivity. He couldn’t help but smirk at Steve’s gasp as it popped out of his mouth. They were both panting and flushed as they stared at each other.

Steve gave an impressed huff and shook his head. “I don’t know how you could swallow that shit.”

Eddie grinned and shrugged. “I like gross things.”

Steve pushed himself into a sitting position but was quickly tackled back to the bed by Eddie pouncing on him and forcing their mouths together. He fought back. Tasting himself on Eddie’s tongue was just as gross as it was when women did it. The main difference was that he could wrestle with Eddie, something he couldn’t do with women. He flipped them over, confident he was stronger than Eddie, and pulled out of the kiss, holding Eddie’s wrists to the bed below. Eddie’s bright-eyed mischievous expression made Steve laugh and drop all urge to fight. He shook his head and fell on the bed beside him.

Steve turned his head to see Eddie already staring back. He smiled at him and pulled his pants up, but left the belt undone. He didn’t know what to say after that, his mind was still clouded by the high. Eddie said something, but he didn’t catch it. “What?” he asked, turning back to face him.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbow and placed a hand on Steve’s chest. “I asked if you wanted a smoke.”

“Oh.” Steve shook his head. “Yeah…” he said with a distance in his voice. “Yeah,” there was more certainty in his voice that time. “Sure.”

Eddie reached across Steve, putting his chest over his face. Steve swallowed as he stared at the smooth tattooed skin, resisting the urge to lick the nipple that was barely an inch from his lips. When Eddie pulled back, Steve sat up and took the stick offered to him. Eddie lit his own, puffing smoke around the filter before holding the light out to Steve, who leaned into it and inhaled a cherry onto his own cigarette. Eddie lifted his thumb from the cheap lighter, letting the flame die off, and tossed it onto his desk near the stereo. The pack of cigarettes was soon to follow. He took a deep inhale of the smoke and sighed it out. “Hmm,” he hummed, impressed. “I guess there is something to the smoking after sex trope. Tastes better than usual.” He held the cigarette out in front of him, examining it.

Steve chuckled, vaguely coughing on the smoke. “Is that why you wanted to?”

“At least partially, yeah.” He smiled at Steve and fell back onto his bed, holding the cigarette between his teeth as he smoked it hands-free.

Steve looked down at Eddie as he smoked his own. “It does taste better, doesn’t it?” He smirked, receiving one from Eddie in return.

Eddie gazed up at him and put an arm under his head as a pillow, taking an extra deep drag and removing the cigarette from his mouth as he heavily sighed the smoke from his lungs and stared at the ceiling. “I’m guessing you want to act like this never happened.”

Steve winced. It was obvious that it bothered Eddie, but he just wasn’t comfortable with others knowing. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit before responding. “I figured as much.” He wasn’t able to meet Steve’s eyes. He knew it was going to happen, but it didn’t lessen the sting by all that much.

A soft smile spread across Steve’s face. He rested the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray on Eddie’s end table and turned to face him. He gently ran his fingers up Eddie’s chest, getting him to tense and take a deeper inhale than he intended. “Is being my little secret such a bad thing?”

Eddie’s laugh was accompanied by a plume of smoke from his mouth. “Does that mean you don’t want this to be the last?”

“I didn’t want Valentine’s to be our last, so of course I don’t want this to be, either.” He gently gripped the forearm of the hand that was holding Eddie’s cigarette and leaned into a kiss. He sighed when he felt Eddie’s hand slide into his hair and his tongue into his mouth. The flavor of tobacco overpowered that of the cum, but it was still vaguely present.

When Steve pulled away, Eddie huffed a small laugh and glanced anywhere but Steve’s face, knowing for a fact that he was blushing. “Still got my number?”

“Uh huh,” Steve acknowledged, smirking at Eddie’s shy expression.

Eddie swallowed and glanced back up at him. “Then you know where to find me.”

“I’ll be sure to use it.” He pet Eddie’s hair and pressed their lips together again.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

[dddomenstarstwst1]

Day 4: Lingerie — Trey Clover

Warnings: sub!Trey, dom!gn!reader, nipple play, nipple sucking, biting, praise kink

Trey was disappointed in himself, he once again couldn't stand a chance against your puppy eyes. A reflection in a bathroom mirror made him look away, too embarrassed to see himself in a deep green two-piece lingerie that you ever-so-generously bought for him.

"Trey, dear? Are you done?" He was hoping you'd fallen asleep with how long it took him to compose himself and then wear the luxurious piece. But you were still waiting for him to come out and reveal himself.

"Y-yeah, close your eyes," you chuckled to yourself, before closing your eyes. Trey sighed and stepped inside the bedroom, he tried to cover himself with his hands. "You can look now."

You slowly open your eyes, adjusting your vision, and see Trey awkwardly shifting his weight from on leg to another. He had his eyes glued to the floor, too afraid to look at you. "Wow," you barely could hold a gasp, he looked really good in what you got him. The color matched his hair and gave you a really fancy feeling.

"S-stop staring at me. This was a bad idea, I'm taking it off." You get up and swiftly approach the spot he was standing on. Your hands flied to his shoulders, feeling the soft material under your skin. You teasingly slid your fingers down to his chest, playing with the lace.

"Well, aren't you the cutest thing. Why so shy, if you already put it on? I think you look absolutely breathtaking." You let your hands palm Trey's chest that fit exactly right into the bra. You circled one of his nipples with your thumb, drawing quiet gasps from the boy in front of you.

"Your nipples are so sensitive, aren't they? Want me to play with them more?" Trey stayed silent, so you squeezed the bud you played with, hearing a low groan in return. Your boyfriend nodded, looking a bit sulky from the abuse to his chest. You moved your hands behind Trey and unhooked his bra, letting it fall to the ground.

You led Trey to the bed, sitting on the edge, "Sit," you pointed at your lap, and he carefully placed his weight on top of you. Your hand went back to playing with his nipple, pressing the flat of your tongue to the other one. You wrapped your lips around the bud, circling it with the tip of your tongue.

Trey breathed heavily, intertwining his fingers in your hair. He wanted to pull you away, but his hand only pressed you closer. You let go of his nipple with a "pop", licked your lips and went for the other one. You sucked harshly, rolling your tongue over it and sinking your teeth in the flesh around the nipple. Then again and again in different places, leaving flesh bite marks all over Trey's chest.

"I'm definitely buying you more lingerie. Hm, maybe you should wear it even in public, under your dorm and school uniform. You'd like that, yeah?" You dragged your nails across his chest, making Trey cling to you, whimpering like a slut. He shook his head, trying to disagree with your words. He desperately wanted to think it wasn't true, that he wasn't going to like this, he was just doing it to make you happy. Yet in the end...

...you were speaking the truth.

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 8: Mornings and Neckties

[prev] [next]

[masterlist]

“Don’t you love me anymore?” Kuroo asks. You cup his cheeks and pull his face closer since he was backing away. There’s sadness in his eyes, anyone can tell that. “You’ve just been so distant lately. I understand that it may be because you’re busy with work, but I don’t know. You just feel different ever since that Yuta guy walked you home.”

“Yuta has nothing to do with this. I told you I stopped talking to him after that night,” you sigh, letting go of his face.

“If it has nothing to do with him, then it must be something else.” Kuroo sits on your desk that is behind him. “What is it love?”

“Let’s talk about it at home.” You try to shrug the topic off but he tugs on your hand, pulling your body to stand in between his legs. The warmth of his hand is contrasting with your cold one.

“I want to talk about it now,” he says as firmly as his hold on your hand. You take a deep breath in before maintaining eye contact with him. Your mouth opens and you don’t even know what you’re saying. All you know is that you’re finally letting out your pent up anger and frustration that is caused by his toxic traits and your unsteady relationship.

What amazes you is how calm Kuroo is. He is listening to every word you’re saying and isn’t showing any foul reaction. His fingers run up and down your forearm to calm you down, abling you to speak properly.

After your final complaint, the room falls silent. Not knowing what to do, you lower your head and tears fall out of your eyes. Kuroo’s hand travel to your lower back, his fingers drawing small circles. You’re getting ready to flee the room because he isn’t saying anything to you. The silence was deafening and hurting your ears. Just when you are about to leave, he speaks.

“I know for a fact that if I apologize, it wouldn’t be enough. I won’t make any excuses and take responsibility for the hurt I’ve caused you. If you want to leave, I won’t force you to stay with me or ask for another chance. But if you do give me a chance, I’ll make sure you don’t regret your choice.”

“If you’re worried about our parents, I can talk to them. You don’t have to suffer from our relationship just to prove that you’re a good daughter.” Kuroo’s arms are wrapped around you. It’s tight. His hold is tight. He’s savoring every moment because this might be the last time he gets to have you in his arms.

Kuroo is acting calm, but deep inside, his heart is shattering and his thoughts are all over the place. He’s trying so hard to choose the right words to tell you. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s okay with letting you go or he’s forcing you to stay. All he wants at the moment is not to be selfish and choose you over his pride.

Kuroo doesn’t believe in gods or anything spiritual, but right now, he’s praying that you choose whatever makes you happy. Of course he hopes that you stay, but your euphoria matters more.

Leaning your head on Kuroo’s shoulder, you cry harder. What makes him think you can leave him? You could have left on the first year of your marriage when he never said a thing to you. You could have left when he said he will never fall in love with you. You could have ran away when you saw him sleep with another girl. You could have ended your relationship when you found out he was in love with Alisa.

You were given all the reasons and chances to leave, but at the end of the day you always choose to stay. Today, as foolish as you can be, you’ll stay again.

“I’ll stay...” you mutter in between cries. “Who’ll fix your necktie before you go to work if we break up?” You try to lighten up the mood and it works since Kuroo chuckles. Your husband plants a long kiss on your temple, eyes closed shut. The tears he had been holding back finally falls, his hold getting tighter.

But you don’t see it. You don’t see how he’s crying for you just like you’re crying for him.

“Thank you for staying.”

——————————————————————————

Your relationship has gotten better ever since the two of you talked. Kuroo wasn’t joking when he said that you won’t regret your choice if you ever stay. He has been nothing but a good spouse to you since that day. Literally, the best out there. Sometimes you wonder if he would’ve become like this, too, if you told him earlier.

Right now, he’s cooking breakfast while you wait at the dining table. You agreed on a rule that the two of you eat together as much as possible. If his lunch breaks allow, he comes to your office just to eat with you. He even brings desserts for your coworkers.

Kuroo has also implied that he drives you to your workplace everyday, and he fetches you wherever you are at whatever time. You got off work at 2AM? Kuroo’s still picking you up. You have an event that ends at 5AM? He will wake up just to make sure you get home.

Your husband doesn’t forget to bring you flowers, too. Sometimes it’s a big bouquet, some other days it’s a single stem. It’s a different flower every day since “it all has different meanings.” Red Camellias because “you are the flame in my heart. White Clovers because he wants you to think of him and him alone. Yellow Jasmines because he said and you quote, “you are grace. You are elegant. Be the Jasmine to my Aladdin.”

Others will think that it’s overbearing, but you don’t mind at all. You love seeing the tall man wrapped around your tiny finger. You are happy to see the real him. The dorky, caring, competitive Kuroo Tetsuro.

“What do you want to eat for lunch later?” Kuroo asks you as the two of you start eating your first meal of the day. “I only have a half day today, so I have time to buy lunch.”

“You.”

“You’re getting bolder each day,” Kuroo chuckles at your teasing remark. “Do you have plans after work?”

“I have to buy something at the mall. And then maybe we can eat dinner at that restaurant your sister recommended.”

The two of you eat and then prepare for work together. Every morning, you share the mirror and laugh at each other’s faces while you brush your teeth. You make fun of his hair and attempt to put it down, but of course it doesn’t. He chooses your blush and lipstick and applies it on you. Those are all part of your new morning routine. But it doesn’t end there.

“I’m starting to think you’re purposely tying your necktie the wrong way so I can fix it,” you point out as the two of you stand in front of each other at the doorway, your fingers skillfully fixing the grey textured tie that matched his black suit.

“Maybe I am,” he answers, and you don’t see the playful smirk plastered on his face because you were too busy on fixing the garment. Even with heels on, you’re still shorter than him. And Kuroo loves that fact. He loves how he can see your brows furrow in seriousness. He loves the way your fingers move. He loves the domestic feeling the moment is exerting. Aside from seeing your face first thing in the morning, this is his favorite part of the morning.

“And it’s done.” You slide your palms over his shoulders and chest, flattening the creases of his suit. Your hands stop on his shoulders and you look up to him, smiling proudly. Kuroo leans down for a kiss which you gladly accepted.

Kuroo pulls back, but his hands are still on your hips, not allowing you to move away from him. “Thank you,” he tells as he stares at your face as if he is gazing at the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“What?” Unused to his stare, you giggle out of confusion. But he continues to stare. “If you’re just gonna stare at me, we’re both gonna be late for work.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything and leans back again to peck on the side of your mouth, barely touching your lips. Then, he proceeds to kiss your cheek. After that, he nibbles on your jaw. Next, his lips travel down to your neck and he gives a short but sensual kiss on the skin. His slowly graze from your neck going all the way to the back of your ear.

Meanwhile, your knees are getting weak and your brain is steaming inside. Your cheeks are burning up and you can feel the whole zoo in your stomach. He has that much impact on you. ‘This is too much for a Wednesday morning.’

You’re back to your senses when he plants one last kiss on the back of your ear before his breath fans over it.

“I love you,” Kuroo whispers.

——————————————————————————

Facts:

The tiger in the Aladdin film, Rajah, was originally a circus tiger as a cub, who found his way into the Sultan's palace after escaping the touring circus group during a visit to Agrabah. He was discovered by a then-young Princess Jasmine, who assumed the cub was a gift from her deceased mother.

Neckties were not originally used for the sense of fashion; they were so thick that not even a strong sword could penetrate it.

Neckties are the most famous gift given on Father’s Day

Those who collect ties are known as grabatologists

There are 177,147 ways in which you can tie and necktie.

It takes approximately 110 silk worms to make one high quality silk necktie.

[prev] [next]

Taglist: @postsfromthe6 @elianetsantana @chaelysian @kiyobbie @lilxstan @moonlightaangel @oh-hey-its-a-simp @kellesvt @karasuqueen @starry-magicshop @stantalentstanunderratedgroups @mint-mai @torilovestowrite @faithmoonxd @agaashesmilktea @birdiewolf @yeibuub @maitenight @ashhhh26 @kageyamasgirl @tnu-ree @avatarkyoshithewarrior @kurokawa-aida @dabisdominion @chanayah @sevenseoul @marissaraeblr @amlnadya @weebintheinternet @shizukusimp @madmelle @soullesstaco @merrdlp @kouholic @kiyoomi-channie @kageyuh @kaachanultra @sabzhabib @134340-cm @toripersonalacc @itsimjaebeomsforehead @todobruhski  @graykageyama @coconut-dreamz @rienin @tetsuanne @kagebunshiin  @heavenini @d-efend @porcolie

[usernoneexistent]

April 3rd - Flying

A/N: Okay so for the first one we have Wren. I haven’t done much with Wren so I thought this would suit her the best. Also Jax and Robin are @oneirataxia-girl​ spawn and spawn of the spawn. You will notice that Wren’s hair has changed. First, I studied more on drawing braids better and second, Wren changes her hair colour and style like all the time in my headcanon. Warnings: None

The journey home was a long and painful one. Not in a literal sense though, Wren knew something was up. Her mother was quiet, well, she's usually quiet but quieter than normal. When she gets this calm it means nothing good. Her father on the other hand was being his usual goofy self. Either her mother knew something her father didn't or he knows but is not giving it away. Anyhow, whatever the case may be, Wren just knew there was trouble. Her twin, Robin didn't show much interest, rather relishing in the silence. It wasn't once they reached their house by the lake her mother finally spoke up.

"I found out yesterday." She started, her dark eyes staring piercingly. Her father, Jax took it as a sign to leave. Robin followed suit. Once alone, her mum continued,  "How you have been flying on your broom every night after curfew for a straight month now and that you've been skipping detention too."

"Sorry mum, I hav-"

"I'm not done yet!" Clover cuts her off quickly, "Your grades are slipping too. I'm not expecting you to have all Os but at least put some effort into them."

Who told her mum that, cause Wren never told her about flying past curfew, skipping detention and her grades. This is not how she wanted her second spring holiday to start. Wren rather hoped for the issue to be buried away. She hung her head in shame.

"Sorry mum. I didn't mean to let my grades slip, it's just I wanted to practise for quidditch and well, I let it take over my studies too."

"Really," Her mother's face remained the same. Not letting a single emotion slip out, "You should have thought about that more carefully. I'm grounding you from your broom for the entire spring break."

"But mum! The final season is just around the corner." Wren whined.

This didn't seem to deter Clover, "Doesn't matter, you need to learn the consequences of your action."

Clover did exactly what she said. Every single bit of quidditch equipment was locked up. Wren didn't understand why her mother could have a little more sympathy for her. After all, Clover was on the quodpot team at her age. She stormed off into her room. She decided instead to comply with her mum's punishment that she is going to fight it. She refused dinner and locked herself in her bedroom. A light knock came from behind her door.

"Go away!" She yelled.

"It's me, Wren."

Wren reluctantly lets her father in. He pulled the chair at her desk and sat on it backwards. His arms rested on the back of the chair.

"I already knew about the flying," Jax admitted, "But I would be hypocrite if I told you off."

"So mum had to," she finished him.

"Yeah. Hey I get it," Jax comforted his daughter, "You have the final game in a couple weeks against Gryffindor, right?"

Wren nodded, "We're in the lead by 30 points and we get the house cup if we win this match."

Jax knew, no, understood how his daughter felt. He remembers the pride of winning for Hufflepuff. They don't get many victories, so every single one of them counted for their house. Jax leaned closer, "I'll talk with your mother and see if we can have a practise session together."

Wren shot up keen, "Yas!"

"But," Jax stopped the girl from being overly excited, "It will be strictly supervised for only an hour and no going to the broom shed outside our practise session."

Of course, it was too good to be true, however, the girl agreed, happy that her dad was on her side. He was always the less strict of the two. It's not that she hated her mum but just felt misunderstood by her. Regardless, she was not planning on keeping her promise. Once everyone was asleep. Wren slipped out and went over to the attic. The broom shed was most likely hexed by her mum. Nevertheless, Wren remembered they had Jax's rickety, old broom from his time at Hogwarts. It was held barely together by magic, a bandage and lots of hope. She fervently prayed that her mum deemed the broom to be useless. To her luck, it was there. She sneaked carefully back to her room, tiptoeing around the creaky floor boards as not to alert anyone in the house.

She opened her bedroom window and a light breeze of spring entered in. Her whole room cools down the heat from the sun earlier. Wren climbed on the broom begging that it won't fail her. The broom creaked but it holds. Barely.

She took off and headed straight towards the natural night light of the moon's radiant beams. In the distant, the city of London light up the night sky from the street lights. The broom dropped a couple times, narrowly escaping the trees in the countryside. Regardless, it worked for the most part.  Something in her felt so alive being so high and so close to the stars. Adrenaline pumping throughout her body, keeping her in the energetic high. This might not be such a bad spring holiday after all.

Spring Break Masterlist

[harmoni-me]

hi! wanted to tell you that i absolutely love your writing skills, it’s so different from the others that i've read and it makes me feel so warm inside. keep up the good work! i'm really looking forward to seeing more

if you don’t mind, i'd like to request for a poly nagito x sweetheart reader x kokichi where they’re still in the crushing/pining stage and being confused about their sexuality. thank you, have a good day/night!💙

Phew! I finally did it! My fingers kinda hurt from typing all this haha! But I loved the request a lot! I played around with the concept you gave me as well, so it’s a story that branches out into multiple styles of writing. I do have to warn you though, goodness is this one long! But I hope you enjoy it all in the same! <3

I’m so sleepy lol 

quick trigger warning beware! : There is a scene in this where a character goes through mental hysteria that contains some panic attack like symptoms. If you are sensitive to that writing, please, skip the the fluffy scene that if used for comfort right after :) (Or just don’t read it at all, don’t worry! Harmoni understands!)

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma! Pt. 1

Also can we just talk about this gif? It makes me so happy...This artist is so good too like WHOA! Check them out! 

“No…“

“1, 2, 3, 4-“

“NO-“

“5, 6, 7, 8!” Nagito finished, moving the silver, dog-shaped play piece across the board in rhythmic taps.

“NOOOO! BOARDWALK, NAGITO?! FUCKING BOARDWALK?!” Kokichi shrieked in a fit of rage, slamming his Panta drink onto the table, while standing up and causing an absolute fit.

Nagito was chuckling at the enraged boy, who was now standing on the kitchen counters, stomping in pure fury. Kokichi was a huge brat. A clingy, competitive, always-begging-for-something, whole-hearted brat. Though, Nagito would have to admit that he could never stay mad at Kokichi, in fact, he would have to say that he barely gets mad at him. Ever. He reminded the white-haired boy of a playful puppy, bounding and bucking happily when getting what it wants. It made Nagito’s heart melt, evaporate, then simply melt again, even when he was a cursing mess stomping on the granite countertops, getting scratches all over it.

“Woah! Nagi, that’s amazing! You got Boardwalk really early in the game, that’s so cool!” You smiled, while also laughing at Kokichi’s ferocious cursing as ambiance. Your smile drove Nagito’s attention away from the angered boy, and his heart went through overdrive once he saw your sweet smile, radiating so much contagious joy. It’s almost as if he was on a roller coaster that contained a different track each and every time he rode it. One minute, his heart would be doing loops, and the next, it excitedly go up again.

. . .

Now, this is where the problem begins. Well, the one of three problems that plague the three individuals all playing a simple game of Monopoly on a Sunday night. This is Nagito’s problem: Whenever he has an effect on Kokichi, making him oh-so-lovable in his eyes, his heart swells and fills his chest to the brim. Oh, was this feeling that was so incredibly foreign to him feel so wonderful when it dawned upon him for the first time.

Nagito could always draw the memory back within his vision in surreal detail. Kokichi and Nagito were loitering in the hallways of Hope’s peak, with the shorter purple-haired boy dragging the pale, frizzy haired boy by the hand to apparently “Conjure up the biggest most awesome-est prank Hope’s Peak has every witnesses since built into existence”. Honestly, how could Nagito say no to something that holds so much potential hope and despair, all contained in one big gift-wrapped surprise of a prank on the whole school?

After planning for a few hours, Kokichi seemed to have a fuse broken in his brain due to thinking about a truly fool-proof plan. The somewhat drowsy prankster reached into his schoolbag and pulled out two twin bottles of grape Panta, sliding one over to an unsuspecting Nagito. The purple plastic bottle bonked into Nagito’s forearm, knocking the bottle down from the force.

“Nehehe, I guess you really are the Ultimate Lucky student, huh? It just so happens I packed an extra today, Shamrock! Make it up to me sometime soon, okaaaaay?” Kokichi giggled, teasing the lanky, somewhat socially-awkward Nagito who was sitting across from him on a desk within a totally abandoned classroom. Nagito thanked the other, though, Kokichi really couldn’t respond due to being in the middle of chugging his favorite carbonated drink.

Nagito turn to his own bottle. He wasn’t the biggest fan of old-fashioned artificial grape flavored things, but it wasn’t the worst. Plus, it would be quite rude to refuse a drink from a friend, right? So the white haired boy simply picked up the bottle, and twisted the cap off, as per usual etiquette of opening a soda bottle.

Splash

It didn’t take too long until Nagito knew what was going on. The drink had exploded everywhere. The bottle of soda was basically empty by the end of the grape-geyser showcase, and poor Nagito was left drenched in purple, sticky, sugary liquid. The drink already was starting to dry into a thin, sweet crust on his skin, making the boy on a whole other level of uncomfortable. Though, it was kind of expected that Kokichi would be absolutely laughing his butt off in the moment, sounding like some sort of hysteric hyena mixed with a duckling quacking at some breadcrumbs. It was a laughable sight, no doubt, Nagito literally looked like the embodiment of a sad, wet dog.

But then Kokichi settled down after a bit, controlling his breathing from the pathetic sight. After doing so, he got up out of his seat, and knelt down to scrummage through his bag, revealing a regular branded water bottle. He then made his way over to Nagito, and without hesitation, sat himself on his soda-soaked lap.

“Aww, really going for that kicked puppy look, are you now? Well, since I’ve had all my laughing fun from this, I guess it’s only natural that I help you out, hm? Or would you rather just stay just like this? Oh, now, I wouldn’t mind it if we did…though it seems your eyes beg to differ…well in that case, let’s clean you up, shall we?” Kokichi hummed, teasing the ever living daylights out of the wet and miserable boy.

Kokichi then did something that made Nagito’s heart pound harder than it ever had before. The teasing boy reached behind his neck, untying his beloved checkered bandana. He then carefully opened the water bottle, and poured the contents onto the fabric. Once ensuring it was thoroughly soaked, Kokichi started to wash off as much of the stickiness he could. to Ruffling Nagito’s hair, from gently washing his pale cheeks, which were now sprinkled with specks of rose, and finally gliding the cloth along Nagito’s clothes and hands.

A few things in Nagito’s mind had clicked into place after Kokichi had handled him with the care equal to that of a lover. Well, ironically, Nagito had caught feelings for his tiny little prankster brat of a friend. Was it a huge surprise? Not really, based on the track that Nagito was on.

Another piece of the puzzle had snapped: Kokichi was a a guy. That was something really to think about. Never had Nagito found men attractive, but…

Finally, the last, and most worrying puzzle piece out of them all: Kokichi wasn’t the only one he has fell for. His heart has become torn in that moment, with every day becoming more of a wrestling match to the death rather than a silly tug-of-war between feelings. The other side of his heart was unsure, and fell for another person that had lifted him up through his lowest lows, supporting him like a much needed pair of crutches when having a sprained ankle.

And that person, was you.

. . .

“Ok ok ok ok ok! Listen here you little damn shamrock you!” Kokichi huffed, now sitting back on the ground, leg crossed, “You and I both know that I have Park Place, right? Right! Now, my dear little clover, I want to make a deal with you, if you will?” Kokichi smirked with evil intent clear within his irises.

“Ooo! Deals! Nagi, I think you should listen to Kichi, making profitable partnerships is pretty much his specialty.” You giggled, basically becoming Kokichi’s personal little advocate. He let out a quick “Yeah, what she said!”, causing Nagito to laugh and nod, gesturing for an explanation of the deal.

“Well, personally, my little clover, I feel like we should team up, you know? We could completely dominate over sweet our little gumdrop over there, making them drop to their knees in submission to us. You know, I have a feeling you and I both would enjoy it...” Kokichi shuffled a little closer to the platinum blonde, voice dropping, “We could rule them over together, as equals, or even make them surrender if they ever have the chance-“

“Sure! Though, you should probably get out of jail first.” Nagito chuckled, making the other boy grumble.

“OH YOU-“

“Heeeeey! I wanna join in too! It sounds like you guys are having fun and stuff, while I’m all alone…” You puffed out your cheeks, sadness dripping in your voice.

Both of the boys shot up to look at your somewhat downcast features, and oh, how it wreaked their hearts in one fell swoop.

Kokichi automatically shot up from his position, puffing out his chest in preparation for a new speech.

“O-ok! New deal! We ALL join evil forces TOGETHER, and absolutely destroy the game with all of our property, while reaping in the greedy rewards of the capitalist regime!” Kokichi loudly proclaimed, chuckling at the end of his new deal.

You gasped, “Deal! Deal! Taking over a money-based board game with my two favorite people ever will always be a yes for me!” You laughed, smiling at the thought of the three of you taking over Hollywood streets with a pose of limos, while using bags stuffed with pure cash as weapons made it ten times funnier.

Kokichi smiled, resting his hands behind his head, “Yeah! Let’s end it here and just say that we kicked so much millionaire ass that we now have control over the whole economy!”

. . .

This is the second problem, Kokichi is so undeniably confused. About what? About himself. He was sure as all hell about how he felt about you, he always went soft and squishy for you, and not to mention he would be extra clingy when it had to do with you. Headpats? Common, and always appreciated. Cuddles? Been there, done that with you.

But, then there was Nagito. Kokichi would never say this out loud, but he thought that Nagito was so…pretty. And god, Kokichi was a huge sucker for pretty people. Though, once he realized that his feelings didn’t go to just one person, that’s when he started to panic.

He had to take in multiple things at once, trying to accept it all at once, but it was just so incredibly difficult. He has spent the whole entirety of his life to perfect the art of lying, and one thing that he learned constantly manipulated his own mind and thought process, tearing it into metaphorical shreds.

In order to pull out a lie that everyone can believe, you have to lie to yourself, and proclaim your own illusion of your truth.

Did Kokichi want to believe he was immensely attracted to Nagito, who just happened to be a guy? No, he really didn’t. It wasn’t normal.

Did Kokichi want to believe that he had fallen so fucking in love with two of his closest friends? Hell no. In society, you had to pick and choose, it’s one or the god damn other.

Right?

One night, all of these feeling and thoughts rushed into the boy’s conscious all at once, building immense pressure within his head and chest. Was this a nightmare, or-

Suddenly, his throat started to close up on him, making him gasp out in agony, wheezing on the covers of his bed, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

Instinct kicked in within the speed of light. Kokichi shakily reached over to his phone, grasping onto it, and quickly set up a group call. Almost immediately, the two people he was panicking over had picked up.

“Hello? Kokichi? Is there anything you need?” A raspy voice rang out. It seems as if Nagito was awoken by the sudden calling.

“Yeah, Kichi? Is there anything wrong?” You softly spoke through the phone. It calmed Kokichi a little just hearing the two of you guy so worried over him.

“I-I know It’s out of the blue-“ Kokichi gasped for air “B-but can you guys please come over?”

And oh boy, did you and Nagito get there in record time.

After just a mere ten minutes, you and Nagito were outside of Kokichi’s bedroom door, and the both of you could hear the desperate hiccups and gasps of your poor friend.

The both of you had no doubts, nor questions. You just wanted the struggling boy to feel safe.

“We’re coming in.” You said, affirming your actions with light knocking on the bedroom door.

When the both of you came face to face with a Kokichi with puffy red eyes, clutching his heaving chest, and thick tears rolling down his face, it felt like the both of you just got shot in the heart, the weight of it sinking down into the stomach, emitting a feeling that could only be described as pure pity. But the two of you automatically got to work.

Sooner rather than later, You and Nagito were cuddling Kokichi from either side, supporting him, as well as being his shield for protecting his small, delicate frame from his own cruel thoughts. You had started to run your fingers through Kokichi’s hair, causing his breaths to become fuller, and not nearly as hitched. Nagito also wanted to contribute in his own way, so he decided to mindlessly draw messy shapes and squiggles into Kokichi’s side, hoping that what he was doing would be of any help.

After only a mere five minutes, Kokichi had passed out from exhaustion, but the two of you kept on doing what you were doing, wanting for the boy in-between you two to have sweet dreams about all of what he desires all night long.

Kokichi has never let go of that memory, and never will for the rest of his life, and it’s a constant reminder on how much he had lied to himself. He actually wanted the truth out of something for once in his life, and that was how long it would be in order for the loves of his life to live without restraint of societal chains. Whenever it was, he would always be ready. Always, with arms as open as the horizon.

. . .

“Why in the world are we watching Big Hero 6 again? Didn’t we watch this, like, a month ago?” Kokichi trudged from the microwave, to the plush couch, bowl of buttered popcorn in hand.

“(Y/N) wanted to watch it, is there a problem?” Nagito tilted his head, holding the remote, about to press play. You were bouncing in anticipation, because this movie was just never a disappointment.

“Hm, well, I GUESS there’s nothing wrong with it….just don’t be surprised when you hear me snoring.” Kokichi huddled up beside you, placing the bowl of popcorn on you lap.

“I deem you the popcorn peacemaker! Your job is to make sure no one’s being a pig.” Kokichi snickered, while you giggled at your new role in life.

“Nagi? You like popcorn, right? Here!” You placed the bowl on his lap, causing him to smile.

“Hey, HEY! NO! That means I have to reach my WHOLE ARM over to to Lucky boy, JUST SO I CAN GET SOME POPCO-“

“Sh sh sh! The movie is starting!” You giggled, shushing the purple haired boy, while you heard a little chuckle from the white haired boy who was next to you.

. . .

The last problem was you. Your heart bubbled up in joy whenever you where around these boys, making your face erupt like a volcano whenever something slightly suggestive is aimed at you when it has to do with either one of them. You liked both of them, a lot, and you gave everything in order for the three of you to flourish in bountiful friendship. Yeah, that’s the problem, it was friendship.

Oh, how desperately you wished that everything could be easy! If life were like an infinite rolling of crashing waves, things would be flawless, predictable even. Unfortunately, life really likes to give you the short end of the stick, and this was honestly one of the shortest sticks someone like you would have never asked for. The loving of two men, both equally, and having an intense desire to treat them as lovers. What would they do as lovers? Where would they go as lovers? The questions and possibilities are endless…

The only time where you felt as if the friendship could’ve resembled anything somewhat romantic, was a summer evening trip to the beach.

The water was the perfect temperature, the ocean was as clear as glass, and the sand didn’t burn the soles of your feet. The boy’s were in their swimming trunks, having their own little fun. Nagito was afraid of getting to deep into the ocean, so you always stayed in the shallow end, trying to capture as many tiny fishes as you could with your bare hands.

Kokichi insisted that him and Nagito bury you in sand, leaving your head poking out of a sandy little cocoon. When the sun started to set, you got some supplies that you brought, and lit the fire that the group planned to create. Everyone gathered around it, cooking hot dogs on sticks, and crafting tasty s’mores that we fed each other.

One could say that that night might be the most casual and platonic friend trip ever, but something was off.

Everyone looked at each other differently that night. When looking into their eyes, it was oddly intimate. It was like all of the stars in the night sky reflected off their eyes conveyed so much...love.

That night, you felt so adored, so cherished and cultivated to the brim of your existence. You felt something, and maybe the other boy’s did too, but that feeling has changed your life.

Thanks to these stupid boys; These stupid boys that you’ve given so much to, you don’t think you could ever love any other.

One you’ve helped get out of a terrible degradation cycle, another you’ve helped to not lie to himself, and not as much to others.

And thanks to your down to earth humility, your heart has been stolen, and it was going to stay taken by those lovely, unique boys who have helped you out of so many ditches, and so many of life’s cracks and dents. God, how could you not fall?

Their lives were precious to you, but you had no idea how they would feel about an actual relationship, so you’ve always been terrified. Petrified and paralyzed to the bone to ever think of what may happen if you were the cause of the fracture of the friendship. You didn’t want to ruin something that has taken so long to build, yet can be torn all down due to a selfish desire.

But, maybe, just maybe, if they went to you first, confessed everything that was bottled up inside, dittoed on how you felt…

Then you might just be the luckiest person to live on this earth, there’s no doubt about that.

[doodleimprovement]

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization” 

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He” 

Enjoy! 

--

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?” 

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

[wondernimbus]

quidditch world cup — seamus finnigan

pairing: seamus finnigan x female!reader

request: Would you write a Seamus Finnigan imagine during the Quidditch World Cup where his crush sits near them during the game and has a tent near the Finnigans (and Dean) and when the Death Eaters attack and he and his crush hide from the Death Eaters together?

a/n: i changed a few minor details about the original request but other than that, enjoy! 

A palpable buzz of excitement still hangs in the air after the match has officially ended. Some of those rooting for Bulgaria trudge out of the stands looking glum, but most, although the team they had been rooting for lost, are just as excited as the Irish—or perhaps not as excited, but close to it. On her way back to the tents, [Y/N] spots no less than five fans of Ireland weeping tears of joy.

"You'd think they won a thousand galleons with how they were acting," [Y/N] points out with a laugh after coming across an Irish fan pounding his fists on the ground and bawling loudly.

Beside her, Dean Thomas snickers. "I bet a thousand galleons Seamus is somewhere going bonkers—oh, there he is."

[Y/N], with much difficulty, tears her gaze away from the bawling man and looks up. Sure enough, Seamus Finnigan is standing a couple feet away from them in front of his tent, wildly brandishing a pole on which hangs the flag of Ireland.

She can't help but laugh at the sight. "How long do you think before he starts crying?"

Dean nudges her. "I assume you'll be wiping his tears away when he does?"

"Oh, shut up."

Seamus catches sight of them when they draw closer. He stops waving his flag around and grins at the pair, looking the happiest [Y/N] has ever seen him. "We won, lads!" he yells, bounding towards them.

"Lads?" [Y/N] wrinkles her nose, fighting back a laugh. Seamus looks like a five-year-old on Christmas day who just got the toy broomstick he wanted.

"Don't mind his vocabulary, [Y/N]. He's half out of his mind," Dean says in a mock sympathetic voice, clasping Seamus's shoulder with one hand. "You good, mate? Sure you don't need to sit down?"

"Never been better!" Seamus answers breathlessly, eyes wide with mirth as he bounces slightly on his toes. "Never had any doubt Ireland would win—poor Bulgaria never had a chance!"

"Don't start crying on us now, Seamus," Dean sniggers. "Or at least if you do, do it on [Y/N]—"

"Seamus!" [Y/N] exclaims, cutting Dean off with a sideways glare. "The painting on your, um, cheek—it's gone a little messy. Would you like me to fix it for you?"

It's not a lie. The large four-leaf clover painted on Seamus's right cheek has gone smudged and looks more like a big blob of green than what it's actually supposed to be. He absentmindedly drags his hand across his cheek, making it even worse.

Dean snorts. "Oh, now you're just doing it on purpose—"

"Can't say no to that, [Y/N]!" grins Seamus. "Gotta show my Ireland pride. I've got a brush or two in my tent. Come on, you two!"

Dean gives [Y/N] a look. She smacks him on the shoulder and rolls her eyes. "What?" she whispers as they follow Seamus into his tent.

"You seem an awful lot like you're up to something," Dean grins, not bothering to lower his tone.

"Who's up to something?" Seamus asks, rummaging in his bag presumably in search for a paintbrush.

"No one," [Y/N] assures him, glowering at Dean. And then, in a hushed voice, "I am not up to something—I'm his friend, I'm just being nice."

Dean raises his eyebrows at her, obviously not convinced. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she turns to Seamus, who has successfully located a small paintbrush and bottles of green and white paint. "Here you go, [Y/N]—Dean, where are you going?"

[Y/N] looks back at Dean only to see that he's halfway out of the tent flaps, back hunched as though he'd been tip-toeing. He straightens up, trying very hard to mask the devious grin on his face, and shrugs. "I just remembered I had to, uh, meet with Lee," [Y/N] gapes at him in disbelief. "I'll see you two later!"

And then, with no more than a final annoying smirk at [Y/N], Dean leaves the pair of them alone in the tent. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, shaking her head as her gaze skitters back to Seamus, who looks just as perplexed as she does.

"Do you—um—" for some reason, some of the glee in Seamus's eyes dies out and is replaced by a touch of awkwardness; [Y/N] can see it in how his gaze darts away from hers. "Do you still wanna—" he gestures to the paintbrush and paint he holds in his hands.

[Y/N] has never hated Dean in her life more than she does now. "Of course," she sniffs, letting out a laugh in an attempt to ease the sudden burst of awkwardness now hanging between them.

Seamus hands her the paintbrush and paint, scratching the back of his head. "You don't have to do it really well, it's alright—I'm washing it off before I sleep anyway—"

[Y/N] lets out a genuine snort of laughter. "Are you sure?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "You seem like the type to show Irish pride wherever and whenever, even when you're asleep."

Seamus ducks his head in shame. "You've got that one right," he grins toothily. "Those blokes were amazing up there, don't you think? Never had any doubt they were gonna win—and Troy was bloody spectacular, did you see his goals?"

"They were hard to miss," [Y/N] agrees, amused as she pries the paintbrush and paint off of Seamus's hands and beckons for him to sit down on the couch, which he does, still rambling on about Troy—Ireland's best Chaser.

"Knew right off the bat he was gonna end up scoring the first goal—he's been training the longest out of all of them, see, he got signed right after he left Hogwarts and he's been under the Irish National Quidditch Team's wing for a decade!"

[Y/N] nods along, a smile playing on her lips as she dips the brush into green paint.

"And that was a bit of a daft move by Krum, don't you think, catching the snitch when Ireland was more than a hundred and fifty points up? Kinda' feel bad for the bloke, I bet his teammates are having a go at him right n—"

Seamus stops talking when she leans in close and places a hand on his cheek.

He swallows.

"Why'd you stop?" [Y/N] asks, pulling back momentarily and laughing.

Seamus swallows again, blinking rapidly. "You just. Uh, caught me by surprise."

She narrows her eyes at him playfully, smiling despite the blush coating her cheeks that she hopes to Merlin Seamus doesn't notice. "I'll be sure to give you a warning next time," she assures him, eyes twinkling. "You good?"

He nods, fidgeting around in his seat as he mumbles something about the Irish team.

[Y/N] leans in for a second time, hovering over him with one hand on his cheek to keep his head steady and the other fixing the painting of the four-leaf clover.

Seamus sits as still as he can, barely even breathing as he glues his eyes to a random spot beyond [Y/N]'s shoulder so he doesn't have to look her in the eye. In a lame attempt at conversation, he asks, trying not to move his lips too much, "Who—who were you rooting for?"

With her tongue darting out of her lips in concentration, she mutters, "Bulgaria."

Seamus's eyes widen almost comically. "You—what—" he blubbers, looking as though he wants to flail around in his seat. "Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] nods, jokingly scowling at him as she drags the brush across his cheek. "What, you don't want my filthy Bulgaria-loving hands on you?"

He opens and closes his mouth, looking at a complete loss for words. All he manages to get out is "Bulgaria?" in the same incredulous tone.

"Yes," [Y/N] laughs, drawing back to look at her creation. She places both hands on her hips as she tilts her head at him, eyes surveying the slightly better-looking four-leaf clover. "I think you're ready to go—unless you want to wash it off, since a Bulgaria fan drew it for you."

Seamus sits there, looking deeply offended at the notion of her supporting his favorite team's opponent. "I," he inhales, "am disappointed."

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, giggling in amusement as she sets down the paint and paintbrush on the table. "Cry me a river, Finnigan. Your team won, anyway—I don't see why you're so upset."

He rises to his feet, massaging his temples as though he's sporting a massive headache. "I'm very disappointed, [Y/N]," he admits, and she can't quite tell whether or not he's being serious. "You have everything—you're nice and you've got good humor and you're downright bloody gorgeous but you support Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] stares at him, the amused grin on her face slowly drooping as she registers his words.

"Bloody.. gorgeous?" she repeats, blinking.

Seamus's body turns rigid. He blinks rapidly, eyes wide like he's been caught in the act. "I didn't—"

Suddenly, a shrill, ear-deafening scream cuts through the air, louder than the celebratory hoots and whistles of the Irish. This one is filled with terror and fear and pain—the stuff of nightmares.

[Y/N] doesn't hesitate; she rushes to the tent entrance, dread blossoming in her stomach with every step she takes.

Everyone has stopped celebrating. The whole field seems to be at a standstill; smiles have fallen, the thrill of the Quidditch match forgotten as everyone stares up at the sky, where four people are being tossed about in mid-air.

"Are those—are those Muggles?" gasps [Y/N], horrified.

Another scream interrupts the deadly silence. And then another. And then another, until everyone starts screaming and running and the sounds of panic build up into a horrifying crescendo. Seamus tugs on [Y/N]'s arm—she hadn't realized she'd been frozen, transfixed at the horrendous sight above her.

"Come on, we gotta go—" Seamus is saying, dragging her by the arm. "[Y/N]!"

[Y/N] snaps herself out of her reverie. The tents are on fire. People are trampling over each other in desperation to flee to the forests. Her brain tells her to start running, so she does, Seamus clutching her hand beside her in a vice-like grip as witches and wizards alike push past them, shoulders ramming into theirs.

"Just keep running, we have to make it to the woods!" Seamus yells above the noise of panic; one of the Muggles in the air have started screaming—a woman—and loud, boisterous laughter ensues.

"Seamus, who are those people?" [Y/N] gasps, eyes catching onto the crowd of masked wizards standing beneath the Muggles. They're standing just several feet away from them, wands drawn as they march closer, huddled together in a pack. "Are those—"

"Don't look, [Y/N]—come on—"

Just before [Y/N] averts her shocked gaze, one of the wizards points his wand in her direction and a jet of green light rushes straight towards her—and it would have hit her right in the back if Seamus hadn't pulled her down at the last second.

Eyes wide with panic and her chest pumping with the adrenaline of nearly having been cursed, [Y/N] scrambles to her feet and lets Seamus drag her into a random nearby tent. "Stay quiet—don't move," he hisses once they've made it behind the tent flaps, crouching just behind the entrance.

"Seamus—were those—"

"Death Eaters, I think," he confirms her suspicions, gritting his teeth. "And they nearly damn cursed you."

[Y/N]'s grip on Seamus's hand tightens as she clamps her mouth shut, willing herself to stay as still and silent as possible. The woman's screaming intensifies and [Y/N]'s heart skips several beats when she hears it get closer and closer to where she and Seamus are hiding.

"Can't we just kill her already? Her screams disgust me almost as much as her blood does."

The voice is coming from right outside the tent. [Y/N]'s breathing gets quicker and she quickly covers her mouth with the hand that's not holding on to Seamus's.

"We are not here to kill—we are here to demonstrate," drawls another voice. "Let everyone see the powerlessness of these filthy, useless Muggles. It disappoints me how we have to resort to such means to prove an obvious point."

Seamus meets [Y/N]'s gaze; she sees her own fear reflected in his eyes. But even then, he gives her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand in his as he mouths, "It's gonna be okay."

Slowly, she nods.

But then one of the wizards—one of the Death Eaters, her brain supplies not very helpfully—says, "Oi, do you see that?"

"See what?"

"That shadow. There's someone inside the tent—"

"Leave it. We are not here to harm magical blood."

"Shut up—who knows, we might get lucky and find ourselves a Mudblood!" Footsteps draw closer to their tent. Seamus and [Y/N] can do no more but crouch behind the entrance, eyes wide in mutual panic. "Come out, you!"

The tent flaps rustle. A hand pokes out—but then several screams cut through the air, and a sound like a powerful spell being cast echoes across the field.

"It's the Dark Mark!"

Several loud popping noises ensue. [Y/N] knows that sound; it's that of someone—or in this case, several people—apparating away. And then she hears four loud thuds outside, as though heavy bodies are dropping to the ground.

"I think they're gone," Seamus says, but his tone is still hushed.

[Y/N] doesn't pause to check. She unleashes her grasp from Seamus's and darts out of the tent, Seamus yelling behind her, and sure enough, the four Muggles who had been suspended in mid-air just moments before are now lying on the ground, eyes wide in terror except for the two young children who have fainted.

"Oh my God—"

"[Y/N]!" Someone—Seamus—catches her from behind as her knees buckle underneath her and her lungs seize up in her chest.

"Seamus—they—we have to help them—"

"[Y/N], calm down—"

She wrenches herself out of Seamus's hold and rushes to kneel down next to the Muggle woman, whose eyes have gone hazy, staring off into blank space. She doesn't even seem to have noticed [Y/N], who hovers over her, hands trembling, unsure of what to do.

Shaking, she takes the woman's hand in hers and squeezes, repeatedly saying something along the lines of "everything's fine, they're gone now" as Seamus stands back helplessly, wand in his hand as his eyes dart around the seemingly empty field of tents.

"[Y/N], we can't stay out here, they might come b—"

"What about them, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, gesturing wildly to the Muggles. "What are they going to do if the Death Eaters do come back? We can't just leave them here—"

Another loud, popping noise erupts through the air. All around them, familiar faces have appeared—ministry wizards. Seamus tugs on her arm and pulls her back to her feet, watching as the group of frazzled-looking wizards fuss over the Muggles.

"This is madness!" one of them exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his eyes meet Seamus and [Y/N]'s, and he immediately advances towards them, wand drawn.

"Calm down, Amos," another wizard says, stopping him in his tracks. "They're just children." And then, turning to the shaken pair, he nods. "Go back to your tents, you two. Everything's been taken care of."

"But—" [Y/N] begins, a thousand questions teetering just behind her lips, but Seamus mutters "let's go" next to her and tugs her along.

—

[Y/N] can't sleep at all that night.

She lies awake in her bed in her tent, the rest of her family already asleep. They'd been incredibly worried when she'd turned up outside of their tent after things had started to calm down. Seamus had insisted on walking her back, but [Y/N] had known that his mother must have been out of her mind with worry as well, so she'd told him it was okay.

Now, she stares up at the ceiling. Her hands haven't quite stopped shaking yet. Traces of the fear she'd felt before remain in her heart like an itch that just won't go away. She can't quite rid herself of it; the pure and utter terror she'd felt when she first saw the family of Muggles being tossed to-and-fro in mid-air.. the panic that tore at her heart when the Death Eater approached the tent she and Seamus had been hiding in..

She remembers being pulled to the ground as a curse hurtled through the air that had been aimed for her. She remembers the screaming. The vacant, unfocused looks on the Muggles' faces when the Death Eaters disappeared.

Suddenly, the tent feels too stuffy. She gets up out of bed and sneaks to the entrance, wanting to rid herself of the suffocating feeling in her chest with a bout of fresh air. She can't get out of there fast enough—she nearly trips over her own feet in desperation, and when she does tear past the tent flaps, she lets out a tiny scream.

"Seamus!"

Clutching her chest in surprise, she takes a step back.

Seamus is standing there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights before he drops his gaze bashfully and scratches the back of his head. "Hey," he says, raising a hand in greeting, but then he seems to remember that they're literally only three feet apart and drops his hand back to his side.

"Hey," [Y/N] says breathlessly. "What are you—what are you doing here?"

Seamus shoves one hand into his pocket, shifting a little on his feet. Quietly, he tells her, "I wanted to check if you were okay."

[Y/N] stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to react. The "I'm okay" rests on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't have the energy to lie, so she just shakes her head and hopes to leave it at that.

Slowly—hesitantly, Seamus moves his gaze back to hers. "I'm not, either," he admits with a painful grin, fidgeting where he stands. "Can't really sleep. Too much thinking. Death Eaters and Muggles being tortured and.."

He inhales sharply, shaking his head. "You almost got cursed," he says quietly. "If I hadn't been there—"

"Can I hug you, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, and her voice sounds oddly pained. Like she's holding herself back from crying.

Seamus blinks, surprised.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"Sure," he exhales, letting out a long breath he didn't know he was holding. "Sure, [Y/N]. Of course."

[Y/N] doesn't wait; she walks forward and throws her arms around him, gripping much too tight. She needs this. She needs something to ground her back to reality—something to pull her away from the dark part of her brain teeming with thoughts of death and torture.

It takes him a few seconds, but Seamus hugs her back. He may not know it, but when he wraps his arms around her and pats her back albeit a little awkwardly, he's bringing her back from the nightmarish part of her head.

They stay like that for quite some time. When [Y/N] pulls away, she wipes at her cheeks hurriedly and steps away, clearing her throat. "Sorry," she winces, trying for a small laugh. "It's just.. been a little much, is all."

Seamus nods, pressing his lips together. "Bit weird how just a few hours ago we'd all been losing our heads over Ireland winning, innit?" and it's a measly attempt to cheer her up, but [Y/N] looks up at him and smiles anyway. It's a little sad—a little off—but it's a smile nonetheless.

"I'm pretty sure that was just you," she tells him quietly, that same tiny smile on her face.

"Yeah, well at least Ireland won," Seamus retorts defensively, the same passion he'd been sporting a few hours ago making itself known again. And then he seems to remember that this isn't the time to be arguing about Quidditch; "Nevermind. Sorry."

"It's fine," [Y/N] assures him, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. "It's fine, Seamus. While we're at it.. you didn't finish telling me about Troy earlier."

[Y/N] needs to stop thinking about everything that happened, and she knows Seamus does too.

What better way to do that than with Seamus's passionate opinions on Ireland?

He seems to consider this for a moment. And then he folds his arms over his chest and begins in a theatrical, haughty tone, "You wouldn't know since you're a Bulgaria fan yourself," he says with feigned spite (or what she hopes is feigned), "But Troy is one of the best Chasers the Quidditch League has ever seen—he learned to fly a broom before he could even walk!"

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah, well, believe it. Anyways, Troy—unlike Krum—is plenty talented.."

[owillofthewisps]

rosemary & thyme

notes: fun fact this was actually what started unspoken and as such this takes place in the same verse. i’d initially planned it to be in unspoken but sometimes things just don’t work like that. this is also self indulgent fluff for myself today bc my cramps are bad enough that i can’t stand for more than five minutes without starting to shake from the exertion lol

the third gif in this was what kicked this off the ground in the first place

title is from scarbourough fair, mostly thinking of the simon & garfunkel version.

also this is my 900th post on here lol

rating: teen. no real warnings, just fluff. maybe small hints of self-esteem issues and small hints of mostly dulled grief. 

pairing: eskel/fem reader

word count: 2.5k

on a spring day, you re-paint the trim of your cottage. it is an old, old pattern, but you are determined to make something new.

“Must you?” you ask Lil’ Bleater.

You’re ensconced in a soft bed of clover that lines your cottage. The sweet, grassy scent of the clovers lingers in the air like perfume, a herald of spring. Hyacinths are dotted through the bed, swaying in the gentle breeze, their buds plump on their stalks, a promise of blooms in the soft indigo peeking through the edges of them, the last breath of a winter sunset.

Lil’ Bleater is intent on eating them.

She noses at a small clump of stalks, each tenderly green, still newly given life. The stalks break under the clamp of her teeth, and you sigh.

“Must you?” you repeat.

She glances up at the sound of your voice and considers you. Then she bleats, loud and indignant, and leans down for another mouthful.

You snort a laugh and turn back to your cottage. You trace your fingertips over the window’s trim, the wood worn riverstone smooth by the years and the rain alike. The paint has chipped, washed out to the soft blue kiss of a robin’s egg. Even the vines, each a delicate scroll of leaves unfurling, have faded into something autumnal, their color muted by nature’s touch. You follow one of them with your fingernail. They wind like the small trails in the woods, meandering yet purposeful.

Your father had steady hands. Even with you and your brother clambering over him, children gone woods-wild, his delicate brush strokes brought the forest to life in the walls of your home.

Sometimes, when the sun shines just right, you think you can see the past peeking back at you, imprints of images long painted over glimmering just beneath the coats of paint.

Lil Bleater butts against your back. “Ow,” you tell her, even though it’s only a short bite of sensation.

The goat prances around your seated form and flops into your lap, all hoof and horns. She squirms until she’s comfortable.

She’s still munching on a hyacinth stalk.

“You owe me new flowers.”

She ignores you.

You sigh and readjust. She’s a warm weight in your lap, the heat of her softened by the thick fabric of your skirts. The goat makes a miffed noise at your movement. You stroke a hand over her horns, the smooth bone cool against your skin, like a spring river just beginning to warm. She nestles down into the cradle of your skirts with a soft noise. Your attention returns to your cottage.

You touch the window trim again, lay your fingers against the faded paint once more. The small flowers - delicate little things, unfurling prettily in soft layers of petals - were your mother’s favorites. They go back to the oldest layer, you know. You trace the one colored for you, and then walk your fingers over to the one for your brother.The ache settles between your ribs, fills the hollow space there.

“It’s still here,” you whisper to Lil’ Bleater. “It’s just built upon, right?”

The goat snuffles, mouthing at the hem of your bodice.

“Yes,” you say. “It’s still here.”

You pick up your bowl, paint the color of the soft blue of the midmorning sky splashed up the edges of it, and sweep a broad stripe of it over the faded flowers.

                                                      *******

“Stop,” you tell Lil’ Bleater, pulling your paintbrush from her ever-hungry mouth. “You’re going to get paint on you, and then Eskel and I will have to give you a bath, and none of us will find that enjoyable.”

She’s relentless, butting lightly at your arm and nibbling at your sleeve. You nudge at her with a grumble.

“Trouble finds trouble, I see,” Eskel says from behind you, his deep voice lined with laughter.

“You’d best be talking about the goat on both counts, dear Witcher.”

“Of course, sweetling.”

He wrestles Lil’ Bleater off of you, gentle despite the goat’s squirming. The goat announces her displeasure loudly and butts against his knees. She darts away before he can stop her, pausing just out of reach and bleating at him before she prances off in a familiar direction.

“I really should fence in my garden,” you muse, turning back to the trim. The fresh coat of paint gleams in the afternoon light, shifting to something sea-bright, the sky melting into water.

Eskel sighs. “I don’t think it would help.”

“Me neither.”

He settles behind you, one arm looping around your waist, his thick thighs framing yours. The smithy has left its touch on him since this morning, a hint of soot scent sweeping over you. Eskel’s rough fingers flirt with the hem of your bodice, his thumb sweeping over the ridge of the embroidery. It is hard to keep apart from each other, the first few days after he comes back to you. You gravitate towards each other like small suns, anchor yourselves in each other’s space with unthinking touches. A quiet assurance that you are both here, together.

You lean into the warmth of him. He’s broad against your back, a pillar of strength, and then he softens. It’s just a hint, but you can feel the way he uncoils for a breath. He winds his other arm around you.

“Missed you,” you say.

He laughs, low and sweet, and the rumble of it resonates through you. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

“I always miss you,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

Pressed against him, you can feel it when Eskel’s breath hitches, catches in his throat.

You turn just enough to press your lips against the curve of his jawline. It is carefully placed, your soft kiss, just beyond the edges of his angry scar. He swallows, the muscles of his thick throat rippling. You hum softly, turn back to your cottage, and lean over to pick up the small stick of charcoal that’s half-buried in the clovers.

Eskel moves with you as you draw closer to the cottage. The charcoal stick scrapes against the paint as you sketch, soft clusters of yarrow flowers blooming slowly beneath your careful hands.

“This is a different pattern than the previous,” Eskel murmurs. His voice is rich against you, flows like warm, honeyed mead.

“Mhm.” You rub a thumb against a wobbly line, wipe it out of existence. “The previous one was my father’s.”

His arms tighten around you, scaffolding to keep you steady. “How many years?” he asks.

“Long before I was born,” you say, rubbing out another poor line. “He added to it throughout his life.”

“There was one for you, wasn’t there? One of the little flowers had your color in it.”

You glance back at him, at the sunrise of his golden eyes. Eskel has a gaze that strips you, sometimes, that peels away the world until it is just you and him. “Aye,” you say softly. “There was.”

He brings you trinkets, sometimes, in that same color. Little things from his journey on the Path. Nothing grand, but carefully chosen, often fitting into the niches of your cottage perfectly. Tiny curios to replace those you’d left behind in your first cottage, as if they can capture the first night he spent there with you soft in bed with him, tucked close around his broad frame.

Eskel slips a hand to your free one and slowly twines his fingers with yours. It’s almost shy, and you turn your palm skyward to better hold him. Your interlaced hands rest on the plush of your thigh, his thick knuckles pressing soft divots into the flesh.

You start to sketch again, adding a sweep of sorrel leaves to frame the yarrow, the soft curve of the leaves wrapping carefully around the buds.

Eskel is quiet behind you. His chest rises and falls against your back, steady like the tide, a cadence that feels as if it belongs solely to you.

Eventually, you pull away from your sketching. You tilt your head and examine it. It’s by no means fine work. You do not have your father’s steady hands, cannot bring life to charcoal drawings in the same way. But your months of practice have paid off. The yarrow buds match the ones speckled along the roadside, and the sweep of sorrel leaves could be the fields that surround your cottage.

“What do you think?” you ask.

Eskel shifts. He leans forward, just a hint, and touches just beside one of the veins of a sorrel leaf. Each inch of his chest is solid against your back. “You’ve practiced.”

“Yes.”

He squeezes your hand. “It’s nice.”

You laugh. “I’ll take nice,” you say. “I suppose.”

“Next time I’ll be more complimentary, then.”

“Good,” you say, and you let go of his hand so that you can wipe the charcoal dust off on the very hem of your skirt, already dirt streaked at the edges. Then you press the charcoal stick into Eskel’s hand. The small stick is dwarfed in his massive hand, and want pulses through you for the briefest breath. “Your turn,” you say. Your bold words have never sounded so shy.

Eskel stills.

That ache that fills the gaps of your ribs pulses, goes sharp at the edges, thorns against your bones.

You feel him draw in a breath.

“If you want,” you say, the words stumbling off your tongue. You keep your gaze ahead, focus on the sheen of the paint. It’s the same pigment your father used. When you crush the ingredients beneath the pestle, the scrape of it against the mortar sounds like your father’s voice. There has never been a blue that evokes such tenderness in you.

Eskel’s fingers close around the charcoal stick.

You suck in a sharp breath. It’s quiet, but not to him, you know.

Eskel always hears you.

“You’re sure?” he asks, and though the words are steady and his voice is the same mellow, deep tone, there’s something wavering in him, an uncertainty that cloaks him.

“Yes,” you say. “I told you - I rarely change my mind.”

“Rarely is not never.”

You ache to glance back at him, to find the honey gold of his gaze, to see the map of his scars against his handsome features. You know you cannot. Something ancient in you knows that if you break this moment, it will never return.

“Eskel,” you say quietly. “Not about this.”

He swallows.

He shifts forward. The motion takes you with him, carries you forward like a wave to the shores. He hesitates just as the charcoal rests against the pristine paint above your sketches.

You let your eyes flutter closed, your lashes whispering against your skin, the barest breath of sound, and feel some of the tension melt from Eskel’s broad frame. You curl yourself into the cradle of his chest. The charcoal scrapes against the wood, a brisk sound softened by the murmur of the spring breeze. The fingers of the breeze stroke through the trees, rustling against the leaves until it’s something of a melody. You listen quietly, let the song of it wash over you, feel Eskel warm and steady around you, and find yourself drifting hazily through time.

The sound of the charcoal fades. There is only the wind now, only the breeze catching in the meadows red-veined sorrel before it slips between the trees. You wait, rubbing a thumb idly over the thick muscle of Eskel’s thigh.The sun is filtering through your eyelids, lighting even the shadows of your closed eyes.

Eskel fidgets. It’s the slightest of movements, but from someone so disciplined, it rings across your senses like a skipping stone leaving ripples across a pond’s surface.

You lay your head back against his broad shoulder and open your eyes. “Well met,” you say to him as he glances down at you, and his eyes burn bright, amber wreathed by sunlight.

“Well met,” he says back, laughter tucked just under his tongue, but then his eyes flicker away.

You nudge at his jawline for the span of a breath, and then you turn your attention to the window trim.

The ache filling the gaps of your ribs fades away.

Eskel has woven sprigs of rosemary through the sorrel stalks, the sharp-tipped herb softened by the dainty ovals of thyme leaves. You can tell where he began to draw. The charcoal is lighter there, not pressed firmly down, but the lines grow darker as the herbs grow more plentiful. The black of the charcoal is stark against the blue. They’re both oddly delicate, the sky blue softened to a pale robin’s egg, and the spider web of charcoal lines lies over it like fragile lace.

His arm tightens around your waist. You reach down and lace your fingers through Eskel’s, a woven pattern strong enough to carry both of your weights. His shoulders loosen. You can feel his slow, steady heartbeat.

“Come,” you say after a moment, “you can help me with the rest of the paint.”

“Dare I ask?”

“I hate grinding for the colors,” you say, rising to your feet and clapping your hands against your skirts. “It takes too long. But your Witcher muscles must be up to the task, yes?”

Eskel pushes himself up in a graceful movement, that sleek dexterity of a Witcher. “If I’d known it was only my muscles you keep me around for-”

“You’d have stayed anyway for the sex.”

He coughs at that, but his smile is broad. “You’re confident.”

You shrug. “It’s good sex.”

He laughs, a low growl of a sound. “That it is.”

You glance his way and find yourself struck by the sight of him. The afternoon sun is kind to him, makes his dark hair glisten and his eyes practically glow. You reach out to him with a small smile, wind your fingers through his once more. He lets you tug him along.

You pause just before the threshold of your cottage, glancing back as Eskel ducks inside. The clover still carries the mark of your bodies, the plush of them pressed down where you had been. There’s a bit of paint splashed across them. You idle for a moment, let the breeze tease at your skirts.

Things will be different once you cross the threshold.

With Eskel’s softly sketched herbs spun in a delicate web around your yarrow and sorrel, your cottage is no longer just yours.

You inhale softly, let the scent of the clovers wash over you. It’s grassy and sweet, with a hint of earthy dirt just beneath. It smells like home.

You turn around and go inside.

taglist: @tutuwho @witchernonsense @whitewolfandthefox @riviawitch3r @hina-chans-stuff @restingnurseface @raspberrydreamclouds @ambivertomnivore

[chrisrainicorn]

Fair Game Week Day 6: Atlas Ball

Posting a little late than usual but it’s for a good reason!

Ok so, my original plan for this was to make a comic of a short scene that I had in my mind, but when I was typing out the dialogue to plan it, I realized wow this is going to be so big and a pain to draw in just a few days, I wish I could just write it instead :/

And then I realized there’s nothing stopping me from doing exactly that lmao. So yeah, I wrote it, and it allowed me to go waaay further than I would go with the comic! So you can read that short fic under the cut (warning for extremely cheesy fluff bellow):

The music coming from the ballroom was dulled by the passing breeze flowing through the spacious balcony. It brought him an immediate feeling of relief, he was already getting sick of the same lifeless background waltz playing in an endless loop anyway. 

Qrow leaned his elbows against the marble rails, it felt cold to the touch and he appreciated the sensation. He had ditched the coat on his way up already, and now away from being surrounded by Atlas elite, fake laughs, boring music and trays of expensive drinks, he had to have some serious self-control to not jump off the railing and fly away from there.

He didn’t though. His nieces had been so excited about the ball and helping him pick his clothes, not being there when they would want to leave would break their hearts. And it’s not like the event was that bad, but he could only cause a certain number of waiters to stumble and see nearby couples stepping on each other's feet during their dance for so long before feeling like he needed to get out of there.

Yet it seemed he wasn’t going to be alone for long.

“Getting some fresh air?” He had heard the footsteps approach, only turning to look at the newcomer after the question. Clover stopped by his side, leaning against the railing in a position similar to his.

“Yeah, you could say that.” His lips curled up as he spoke. “This kind of thing can get boring real quick.”

“Tell me about it.” He let out a sigh, throwing his head back. His hairdo was slightly messier than usual, a few strands of his bangs refusing to stay up like the others, maybe he had been dancing… Qrow diverted his eyes away the moment Clover spoke up again. “The kids seem to be having fun though.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled lightly. Before leaving the main area, he had caught a glimpse of Yang and Blake on the dance floor and he would bet they would stay there for a while. Jaune, Oscar and Nora had been obsessing over the huge chocolate fountain, and it didn’t take long for them to drag poor Ren into their taste testing. Ruby had been by Weiss’ side, trying to distract her partner from being that close to people she previously was associated with - she also needed some support to walk on her stupid lady stilts so guess Weiss was there for that too. “It’s good to see them loosing up a bit.”

Clover didn’t say anything for a moment, Qrow looked over at him, finding him staring in that way that made the bottom of his stomach cold. “Don't you think that you should be trying to loosen up yourself?”

“I am-” No he wasn’t, if the way he had already had messed with his hair, taken off his coat and rolled his sleeves up, and he still felt like he needed to escape from something meant anything. “These events aren’t really my style.” Not a lie. “What about you? shouldn't you be charming the guest down there instead of acting like you're on patrol duty?”

“Ah, well...” Clover took his eyes off him a bit too quickly. And it took Qrow one more second for him to realize he had just used the word charming to describe his ways. “You can only put up polite smiles for so long before you need a break. And it's not like there's a lot to do…” He drummed his fingers on the marble for a moment before continuing, “I'm not much of a dancer.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, sending him a sideways glance. He could honestly imagine him as being a guy who would sweep people off their feet on a dance floor…

“Yeah.” Clover let out a bashful chuckle. “Good luck can get me to not trip on anyone's foot, but it doesn't make me good at it.”

“Well, that's hard to believe.” He scoffed. 

“Why?” Clover gave him a lopsided grin. “Want me to prove it to you?”

“Hm, what.” He snapped his head back to his direction, Clover stepped away from the railing.

"C'mon, we don't need to go on the dance floor though, it would be a disaster." He chuckled as he took his arm in a swift gesture, turning him away from the snowy landscape beyond the balcony. And Qrow followed without a word, without thinking, without resistance, just blinking as he was led towards the middle of the open space.

The music was still muffled by how far they were from the actual ballroom, and the sudden thudding inside his ears didn't help. They stopped in the center of the balcony, only a few feet apart, Clover switched the grip he had on his wrist for an offered open palm, and he waited. 

Only when he started to look unsure because of his lack of response, Qrow's brain decided to respond - after all, it was pretty rare to see the lucky charm himself to act unsure about something.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his hand over the one that had taken his arm. Clover's smile brightened up in such a way it almost caused him to choke on his works before they even came out. Still, Qrow managed to speak up. "It sounds like it will be a disaster one way or another…” He grinned with an eyebrow tilt, as if he was just exchanging playful jabber before a mission instead of being pulled close for a dance. “I don't have any luck stopping me from stepping on your feet."

"Well, you'll have to endure my terrible rhythm.” His tone was light as his laugh as Clover watched his own hand settle against Qrow’s side. Their eyes met then. “So I guess we are equal."

Equal. He said it with the same tone as his lucky you at the mines - he could tell because that single line had bounced inside his head for too long. And, of course, he ended this sentence with a wink as well.

“We’ll see about that, Lucky Charm.” He managed to splurt before it got too awkwardly late to add something to the conversation, diverting his gaze down at the same second, watching their feet so he could at least try to avoid stomping on his shoes as they tentatively started to move to the rhythm of the far-away music.

"Let's not turn this into a contest for who will do worse, okay?" He laughed lightly, and Qrow lifted his gaze up instinctively just to watch. "With my luck, I might win that one." 

"Of course." Qrow rolled his eyes. And in that second, they tripped on each other's feet, the weird thing was that he wasn't sure who was the cause of it.

"Sorry." Clover scrunched his shoulders, giving his hand an apologetic squeeze.

"It's alright." He brushed it off with a lazy shrug. Just some time ago, he would have said something like it wasn't your fault, or any other comment about his semblance instead. But he knew his dance partner would probably lecture him if he did that, so he just let it slide - they were both not perfect dancers, so it happens.

"Let's just try again then." They tried to match the rhythm of the waltz one more time. He was warm, Qrow noted. Or he was the one too cold from his time outside enjoying the Atlas icy wind. The contrast was jarring nonetheless, there was still an inch of space between their bodies but he could more than well feel the heat coming from the proximity - the touch he had on Clover's shoulder and palm might as well be burning.

Every time he took his eyes off their feet there was some kind of misstep, followed by apologizing chuckles and quiet affirmations about them being okay. He had imagined Clover being the type of person to charm people away on the dance floor, yes, but he hasn't actually considered he would do that with him. Well… he had, because he was the one imagining those kinds of things in the first place, but he didn't take it seriously! And he would have never guessed clumsy waltzing and sheepishly smiles as being part of his routine.

But here they were, not even on a dance floor but in an empty balcony just for themselves instead, taking overly careful steps while completely ignoring the beats of the background music, after a quick conversation that had consisted in, as his nieces would have put, a lot of gross flirting.

This was stupid. Because he had to admit those noisy brats were right. He couldn't deny anymore that that had been flirting. He couldn't pretend to not notice Clover's attempts to be closer. He couldn't just not say there was some real interest in there.

Especially with how he could feel Clover’s eyes locked on his face as they danced. He didn't know why he had been so hesitant from looking up from their shoes to meet them - they were adults for gods' sake! He was sure he was acting like a teenager right now.

Yet they were doing a slightly better job at keeping up with the music, until the point when it picked up as it arrived close to its end. Their steps became wider, and he was sure he was about to cause them both to fall when Clover decided to be risky and pulled him along for a swift spin. 

He only noticed he had been holding his breath and had his eyes wide when they resumed to slow and steady side to side steps as the final and calmer seconds of waltz reached his ears. 

"Looks like we're doing pretty good." Clover tilted his head knowingly, and Qrow finally relaxed and looked back at him. 

He opened his mouth to respond, just to immediately trip on air and step on the edge of his shoe, making his leg bent in a weird way and bringing him down, exactly on the final note of the music.

He held back a curse as Clover held him in place, letting go of his hands to hold him by the waist with both his arms, pulling him closer and pressing their chests together as Qrow's hands instinctively acted to get a firmer grip, lacing themselves around his shoulders. The music in the ballroom faintly continued its endless loop. He let out a huff. "What were you saying?"

Clover dared to chuckle, and now they were too close, being able to watch the way his eyes curved with his smile and feel the puffs of air from his breathing. "I still think it went well."

"Hm, I didn't know stepping on feet and falling were part of a good dance now." His voice came out raspy and he had to clear his throat. They relaxed their position a bit, allowing Qrow to fully recover his footing, yet neither of them made a move to restore the previous distance they had between them. Clover’s arms were still around his waist and Qrow maintained his own around his shoulders, as if they had done this numerous times before.

"You know… I prefer that over any boring dance I just managed to go through it because of luck." Clover started, pausing for a second to run his tongue over his lips. “I had fun… with you. Can’t remember the last time I felt that way.”

Qrow let the single note escape after a moment of silence. “Oh.” 

He had nothing else to say, because the implications from Clover’s words weren’t lost by him. He preferred a waltz full of missteps over a perfect one, he preferred to be with him. 

“I… I had fun too.” He didn’t like how quiet he had sounded, so Qrow let go of a breath, letting out a chuckle before continuing. “Can’t remember the last time someone endured a full dance with me.”

“That’s a shame… You’re a good dancer, Qrow.”

“You have some messed up standards.” He had to hold back an incredulous laugh. “But, hm- Thanks, for all that.”

He had expected Clover to smile at his words, but not the way he had beamed, brightening up the entire balcony and making his heart skip a beat.

“Hm, what?” He was definitely not used to people staring at him like that, or holding him like that, or talking at him like that - just being with him like that. Gods, how long they had been flirting while hugging?

“You’re not dodging compliments anymore...” Clover’s words came out in a quiet breath, his eyes flickering all over his face.

“Ah.” He swallowed dry, he hadn’t even noticed… “Well- I guess... I know I would be up for a lecture if I did, so… yeah.”

“Good.” Clover’s smile was too close to a smirk now. “Because that means I can do that more often.”

Qrow just blinked, squinting at the smug, too confident, handsome bastard he had his arms around. He opened his mouth to speak. Nothing. Tried again right after, success. “... Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” He diverted his eyes for a second, Qrow could see he was holding back a bigger smile.

“You know-” He could feel his face burning.

“I don’t.”

“Clover...” It almost came out as a hiss.

“Qrow.” He bit his lip to contain a laugh.

“For gods’ sake- Just...” He let out a growl of frustration, bringing a hand to rub over his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes?” Clover was having fun by seeing him get flustered, he could tell that very well.

“Just-” Stop? Keep going? What could he want?

What do I want? 

He had the answer to that. 

Taking his hand off his own burning face, he returned it to the back of Clover’s shoulder, sent a last challenging stare at the green eyes that shined a bit too mischievously for his liking, before closing his own, and pulling him in.

Clover kissed him back. Without even a split second of hesitation, not even giving a chance for Qrow to second guess his decision. And even if he knew that was probably the most probable outcome considering Clover's actions, it still blew his mind in the best way possible. It started just as clumsy as their dance. Maybe because he wasn't used to kissing someone who was smiling so much. What was the last time he did that anyway? What was the last time he was sober for it?

He only wondered that for less than a second, because that wasn't the time for it. And he didn't care. He was warm, Qrow noted. And he also sighed against his lips, and pulled him even closer, and breathed him in and tasted like mint and pineapples, he recognized the taste from the non-alcoholic beverages they had served downstairs.

They only pulled away when breathing became extremely necessary. Qrow kept his eyes shut for some lingering moments, he would think he was dreaming if he couldn't feel the warm puffs of air hitting his skin as Clover recovered his breathing.

And when he did open his eyes, he was rewarded by Clover's own staring back at him, with that softness that had taken him a good while to get used to, and now he didn't want to live without it.

"So, hm- another dance?" Qrow blurted. Because he didn't know what else to say in moments like these. Yet what he did know, is that he didn't want it to end.

Clover let out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead on his, the sound light and lively, just like the stare he had on him. "Thought you would never ask."

They got better as they went, there were still some missteps here and there. Yet, they paid no mind. That was what made their dances perfect, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Hope you liked it! I might actually post this on ao3 later after I have more time to do some revising without having to worry about the deadline lol. So if while reading you found some awkward sentences, feel free to let me know! English is not my first language so it helps a ton! :D

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Doors in the Woods

For Kidgemas 2020. December 28 is labeled as a Free Day, so I chose to write an AU where Pidge and Keith are keyblade masters.

Summary: Kingdom Hearts AU. Keith has a surprise for Pidge on one of the many world's he has visited.

Also posted on AO3 under the username “kishirokitsune”.

❄ - ❄ - ❄ - ❄ 

Pidge stumbled a little as she and Keith appeared on solid ground in a shimmer of pale green light. She quickly reoriented herself and began to look around in confusion. Keith hadn't told her where they were going or what they were doing, only that he had a surprise that he wanted to show her, but Pidge wasn't seeing how a dark forest full of trees without leaves was the makings of a good surprise.

“Uh, Keith?” she questioned, turning to face him.

And promptly stopped to try and comprehend the sight before her.

It was undoubtedly Keith, but his appearance had completely changed. His skin was a shade of light purple and there were twin triangular stripes in a darker shade rising up from the bottom of his jaw. His hair was fluffed up and a pair of purple, cat-like ears stuck out from it. Even his clothing was different, with the red and yellow on his jacket turned to shades of gray.

Keith caught her eyes (his were glowing or at least they appeared to be) and grinned. “That's a good look on you.”

Pidge looked down at herself and gasped in surprise when she found that her clothes had also been leeched of their color and were also in shades of gray and black. In addition to that, the bottom hem of her pants was no longer straight and was instead deep triangular cuts. Her sweater was a little longer as well, fitting almost like a short dress, and the sleeves billowed out slightly at her wrists. She felt the top of her head and found, not cat-like ears, but a traditional witches hat.

“What is this?” she asked, completely mystified.

“Part of the Gummi Ship's magic. It helps us blend in with some of the worlds we visit and, you know, preserve the world order and all of that,” Keith waved his hands dismissively, his tone one of someone repeating something said to him many times before. “This is Halloween Town.”

“Halloween Town,” Pidge repeated as she took another look around. “Fascinating. So, why are we here?”

Keith grinned at her. “That's part of the surprise. C'mon, we're going this way.” He gestured deeper into the woods.

If not for the fact that she trusted him with all of her heart, Pidge would have fled to the Gummi Ship and back to their home in the Land of Departure, probably stranding Keith there in the process. And so, despite her misgivings about striding into a dark, possibly haunted forest, she followed Keith along a well-worn path and kept a sharp eye out for anything lying in wait to attack.

Eventually the path opened up into a barren field. Several large trees had various things painted on their trunks. Pidge counted seven of them – a heart, a four-leaf clover, a painted egg, some sort of red box with gold stars on it, a bird with massive tail feathers, a pumpkin with a face carved into it, and, on the farthest end of the clearing, an evergreen decorated with round baubles.

There was a part of Pidge that wanted to stop and investigate every single one, but Keith continue on up to the tree, where he stopped and waited for her to catch up.

“This world is more unusual than most,” Keith told her. “Not just because our appearance changes to match the people who live here, but also because of these doors.”

“They're doors?!” Pidge asked incredulously. She peered a little closer at the tree and that was when she spotted it – one of the side baubles protruded out just like a doorknob.

Keith nodded. “I don't know how it's possible, but each of these doors leads to another world. They're all connected and from what I can tell, each of the worlds has a place like this. I haven't visited any of the others since they seemed to all be locked up tight, but this one was open the first time I came here.”

“So, this is the door we're going through?” Pidge asked.

Keith grasped the doorknob and twisted, slowly pulling open the tree-shaped door to reveal a dark tunnel leading down into the ground.

Pidge leaned forward and peered into the tunnel, but saw nothing but inky darkness waiting for her. “Is... is it safe?”

“Completely,” Keith assured her. “But I could go first, if you'd like.”

Pidge considered his offer and then shook her head. “No, I can do this. I have to be a little more adventurous if I want to prove myself as a Keyblade Master, right? If you say it's safe, then I trust you.”

Keith smiled and offered her his hand, which she took before stepping up onto the bottom of the door. Pidge breathed in deep and then jumped in.

She felt the air whip past her, racing up under her clothing and threatening to knock away her hat, and she almost screamed in fright. Light appeared beneath her, drawing closer and closer, and for a heart-stopping moment Pidge thought for sure that she was about to collide with the ground, but instead everything shifted around her and suddenly the light was above her and she was floating up to an open door and being gently deposited outside of it.

Her jaw dropped as her boots touched down in the snow.

It was everywhere.

Covering the ground! The trees! The fence-posts! Everything covered in a fine layer of snow and frost, like something out of a scenic painting. Even one of the waypoints created by the Gummi Ship was effected by the snow, creating tiny eddies of flurries as the magic spun around.

Keith exited the doorway behind her and rested one hand on her shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Keith, it's beautiful,” she gushed. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

There was a smile on Keith's lips as he watched her skip out into the snow, clearly enjoying herself. “You're welcome, Pidge.”

[melyaliz]

Yellow Umbrella pt 1

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Demon Lord Loki needs distraction from the mundane life he lives. You need to figure out who you are now that your boyfriend left you. (AU where Loki is a Demon mafia lord.) 

Pairing: Demon!Loki x Reader 

Warning: This is NSFW - lots of sexual content 

Story notes: The character’s name is Yue because I hate Y/N I feel like it takes you out of the story. (This is my creative way around that) 

My Notes: Loki won the contest! But that doesn’t mean Jason won’t show up… I have some saucy plans so don’t you worry. I also tagged everyone who liked/commented on the post. If you don’t want to be tagged just let me know and I will remove you. 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

------

Every story has an ending. That moment when you are sobbing on your best friend’s bed asking her why this happened. He was supposed to be your everything, he had promised you forever. He WAS your everything. You couldn't picture your life without him. Without his morning text, checking in during the day, his opinions on your life. 

He had promised you forever.

How could he just leave like that? 

As if those 3 years of constant meant nothing. 

As if you meant nothing.  

In those moments it feels like it’s the true ending. What could possibly happen next? How could life even go on? What would it even look like? How does one go on after such a shift in their reality. 

The problem is this is life. There is no ending, no rolling credits. No large THE END on the last page of the book. The beginning to life is when you are born and the end is when you die. During that time there are a million different shifts and changes.  

And even then people have lived before you and will live after you. 

So when moments like this happen, how do you start over when your entire life has ended? 

When your entire life breaks up with you. 

-----

Loki sat in his boardroom. And he was bored, bored in his boardroom. 

Someone come kill him.

Too bad he was a demon and couldn’t really die.  

The king of demons actually. 

Well A king really. The world had gotten just a bit too big for one organized faction and demons had never been very good at the whole “following a god” sort of things so many hundred years ago they had given up and did their own thing. The most powerful ones taking weaker demons and building factions to rule over. 

Think of it like an underground mafia 

And Loki was lord of one of the largest powerful territories.

Which was great, unless you had to be stuck in these endless meetings. Sure they were important, he needed to know what the werewolves had been up to and if the vampires were starting to group again. 

But it was all so trivial. (Just send an email or something.) 

That was why he had underlings. To deal with these things. 

“We have a few spies among their ranks so we will keep you updated.” the man, Yash,  droned on, did they intentionally get the one demon with the most boring voice to run these things? Where was the pazazz? They were demons after all.

Next to Loki his secretary Clover shifted. Her black mini skirt pushed up under the boardroom table so that the demon lord could draw lazy lines up her leg just brushing over those crotchless lace panties she had dawned just for this meeting. 

She was a good secretary. 

 “But… the good news is souls are up and our borders have never been stronger.” 

“And on that note,” Loki gripped Clover’s inner thigh  before standing. Taking his beautiful scepter that his assistant Jeff had gotten him as a gift last year he tapped in against the floor. The sound echoing across the room. “Let’s take the rest of the day off and celebrate!” See Yash, pazazz 

The room erupted in cheers as he added “drinks on me.” 

Which is was what led them all to a beautiful speakeasy in the heart of San Francisco. The drinks were strong and the bartenders hot. 

Just how Loki liked it. 

One in particular caught Loki’s eye. A busty blonde who smiled brightly as he walked in. Leaning forward Loki licked his lips as the woman matched his stance, showing off just a bit more of her beautiful cleavage.

“You’re new.” 

“Just helping out for the night.” 

“Well I would love to learn more about you before you must leave Cinderella.”

“I'll be here past midnight don’t you worry.” she said shaking his drink. Her body bouncing with the rhythm of the movements.  

Loki licked his lips, “Perfect” 

She smelled of tequila and seltzer as he fucked her in the back. The cold night air coming out in little clouds as he lifted her up pushing against her. She was impressed by his super strength, humans always were, and the cold night air made her nipples perky as he let his tongue run lazily over them.

“God your beautiful.” she said running her fingers over his thick black hair. 

“God’s got nothing to do with it baby” he growled thrusting into her again causing her to let out a cry of pleasure. 

“Adriana?” 

“Shit.” 

Loki’s fingers gripped the curvy girls ass digging into the soft flesh. “Friend of yours?” 

“Boyfriend…” 

Turning Loki instantly knew why she had cursed. The boyfriend wasn’t alone. Four of them stood there and they didn’t look nice. 

He had send his own men home assuming he would just have one quick fuck and then leave. 

After all everything about that woman had screamed single and desperate.

I guess you never judge a book by it’s cover. 

Not that this wasn’t his first time dealing with a jealous lover. 

--------

It was raining out. Thick sheets of torrential downpour as Yue walked home. Her soft yellow umbrella taking the brunt of the storm as she sloshed down the street. She really shouldn’t have even been out in it but when you wake up at 4am with a cough that won’t let you rest there is nothing you can do but run to the local 24 hour mart and grab some NyQuil. 

This cold air and rain wasn’t helping the cough but there wasn’t much she could do. 

After swigging some of the blue liquid Yue started her trek home. And that was when she saw him. Leaning against the wall heavily. At first she thought maybe he was throwing up but as she got closer she realized he was bleeding.

“Are… are you ok? Do you need me to call 911?” 

Her phone was out to show him she could call the police even if he tried something.

“Not much good they can do.” he said turning to her. His dark lined eyes smudge from the rain, black hair flat against his face giving him a very emo boy band look. 

Welcome to the Black Parade anyone? 

Holding out her umbrella the man took a step under it. “Nice boots” he said pointing to the matching yellow boots Yue had on. His eyes lifted up meeting hers with a wiry smile. He had a split lip and a few other cuts and bruises on his face. He also had a few previous scars on across his left eyebrow and one that was under the same eye down his cheek.

That coupled with the way the light of her phone seemed to make his pale skin glow gave him a little unworldly look. As if he was some fallen angel right out of a Gothic comic. 

“So little yellow boots where are you taking me?” 

“A hospital?” 

“That’s no fun.” he drawled, running his thumb over his split lip.  

Her response was a few muffled coughs eyes watering. He studied her taking in her flushed cheeks and red nose along with the 7-11 bag she was holding. “Sounds to me that you need  it more than I do.”

“Well I was about to take some NyQuil and pass out.” 

“Well I won’t keep you.” 

She took a step forward about to leave him. She didn’t owe this mysterious stranger anything. But something nagged at the back of her head. Pausing she turned to him, “If you walk me to my door I’ll let you take my umbrella wherever you need to be.”

“What?” he looked down at her surprised. 

“I’ll let you take my umbrella.” 

He looked her over, his breath thick with the smell of whiskey. “Ok.” 

They walked in silence, the only sound was the echo of the rain hitting the little sunny covering over them.

Once they approached her small apartment complex she stopped turning to him. His eyes lazily looking around, hands in his pockets giving him a very laid back look. She had no idea how he had gotten beaten up but it really didn’t seem to affect him much. 

Holding her umbrella up she flashed him a slightly painful smile. Her mouth was so dry from this dumb cold. 

“Here” 

He leaned forward looking down at her, taking her in for a moment that same lazy smile on his lips that he had worn their whole walk back. His fingers wrapped themselves over hers for a moment, the cold steel of his chunky silver rings sending shivers down her already sensitive skin. 

“Thank you love.'' His voice thick and smokey. Dangerously sexy, sending a shiver down her spine that wasn't from the cold. 

“Good night.” 

“Night” 

And they parted. Him down the street disappearing into the stormy night and her into her complex to drug herself into a peaceful slumber. 

Little did they know on that rainy night under a sunny umbrella that a new story was about to unfold. A moment that shifted in time changing the course of their lives forever. 

--------

-GET TAGGED!- 

Forever tag:  @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear  @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr  @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep  @cdwmtjb8

Loki: @wayward-hell @winterssoldierrs

Story:  @irwin-hood @hit-th3r0ck @cruel-kitten @boofrarti @i-miukimiuki @mmimagine-40 @mynameofuser @pia-1000 @angelgl16 @the-fifth-marauder03 @plutos-deamonchild @frenchfrostpudding @carydorse @neverleturheartshow2 @sebhiddleston @probsjosh @dracaryspowpow @andrea20967 @saiyanprincessswanie @olive-tini @albinotigerpython

[imaginemic]

Lucky Dice //N-SFW

I wrote this in 20 minutes for my kinktober prompt and idk guys, I would die for mr. dead or alive. It’s a reader insert or OC, take your pick idk anything anymore

“And here... it...goes,” He slapped his palm against the button, the final reel coming to a stop on cherries. A sad payout slip printed and he snatched it out, pressing his forehead against the plastic and patting down his pockets only to find them empty.  

“Excuse me,” She swallowed a mouthful of her soda, sitting down on the empty stool next to the jacketed gambler. He sat up, raising a brow as she reached into her pocket taking out a token, kissing it before pushing it into the slot. She pulled the lever, the reels setting into motion and clicked stop without much thought. She smiled as the chimes went off, 7s across the board.

“Here ya go,” She handed him the slip and went to get up, smiling at him as he caught her wrist. A breath caught in her throat as he pulled her closer, her feet tangling making her trip forward nearly spilling Sher soda all over him.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, his lopsided smirk made her heart race faster, “I just... I’ve been playing these games for years and never have I seen such... blind luck.”

“Oh?” She smiled and pulled another token out, pressing a kiss to it and putting it into the machine again. Another set of 7s. “It’s nothing, just a little lucky magic.”

She handed him the new slip and patted his arm. Dice Arisugawa, the gambler and member of Shibuya’s rap division, in short – a man that piqued her interest. While rap battles weren’t her thing, she had to admit, there must be a thrill in it all.  

“Dice,” He extended his hand out to her and shook it, his grip was firm and his palm slightly clammy.

“The boys around here call me Lucky,” She winked, letting go of his hand before turning and pointing to one of the card tables, “That right there is the untamable beast for most, I think She’ll have a good hand there. I’ll put down a bet for you, ‘kay?”

She didn’t even get a slight protest from him, smiling as She followed him to the table. It was a house game, rules that made no sense and it was honestly based purely on the luck of the draw. Only the richest of men gambled here – it was high risk, low reward. The suited men scoffed as Die took a seat the table, his grimy appearance and unkempt hair a drastic difference from the group of polished men who were drinking fancy wines.

“Are you sure you kids want to play this game?” One of the men next to her, his heavy hand on her shoulder, shrugging his touch away before lifting Dice’s chin up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“We’re sure,” She moved to sit on Dice’s lap, his arm wrapping around her waist naturally. She placed a wad of pristine bills on the table, “Betting 500k.”

“Alright, I’ll match that,” The gross guy places money down and so did a few of the other men.

Rules of the game – Three full decks were in play and She wanted a set of face cards in different sets. There was a low win rate, but still, she was feeling luckier. The dealer handed out the cards, the men asked for more cards in hopes they would raise their chances.

“Should we try-” Dice started, but she kissed his cheek and shook her head.

“Ready,” She smiled at the man next to her, taking a deep breath as she flipped over the 4 cards in front of them. Her body tensed and she dropped the soda glass, squeaking out as she wrapped her arms around Dice’s shoulders. Queen of Hearts, King of Spades, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Clover.  

“We win!” She pulled away and took the winnings from the table before Dice wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing kisses to the back of her neck as she laughed. He was going to lose everything before she showed up and now, he walking out with nearly 2 million. He didn’t know who she was, but she was his god at this point.  

**

“Dice,” Her back arched off the gold silk sheets, the wrinkles that appeared as she grabbed the sheets in her fists, “Please.”

He couldn’t argue with such a sweet request, hooking one leg over his shoulder before pushing into her with one move. The gasp and shudder of her body was something that would be engrained in his mind forever. Her skin, soft and slightly tinted with a faint golden shimmer from the shared bath they got out of minutes earlier. Pulling him down and wrapping her legs around his waist, their lips collided in a rough kiss that made his head spin. She was like a goddess and somehow, she chose him to allow him the honor of her touch. Maybe his feelings were exaggerated from the fact that they booked a room in the casino hotel for the night, the room adorned with gold and white, her naked body relaxed against the pillows as she allowed him to violate her. He was dirty and useless – his body nothing but a machine that would be tossed aside like trash at the end of the night.  

“Kiss me,” She gasped, her fingers tangling into the still wet hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down and pressing greedy kisses against his lips and jaw. He couldn’t believe that this was real – how perfect his body fitted in hers, how her soft touches made him feel like his skin was on fire, her lips soft and slightly swollen from their frantic kisses, her eyes rolling back with each roll of his hips – it was all too good to be real. She was the personification of lady luck – that was made known to him when she gave him that winning kiss at the table.  

She was frantic – chasing that thrill of the reckless gambler on top of her could give her. Her fingers tangled in blue hair that was still wet and soft from the bath they share, remembering the soft kisses he pressed to her neck and the way he teasingly wrapped a hand around her throat. She didn’t want the moment to end, knowing that he would leave her to do what he did best – gamble for the thrill she couldn’t provide him.  

“Fuck,” The gasped in unison, her grip tightening as Dice gave a final thrust before pressing his face against his shoulder – the warmth of his release filling her before the sudden emptiness as he pulled out made her fact the reality.

“Lucky...” Her nickname slipped from his lips, soft as he rolled onto his back and combed his fingers through his bangs and looked at her. Lucky. The name somehow stuck despite her never feeling lucky, she was too busy chasing a high that was rare to find. The rush of luck was satisfying for the night before it was gone like smoke on the wind, something that she could only watch drift away and not grasp even if she wanted to.

“Be my lucky charm, yeah?” He smiled and reached out to cup her cheek, his eyes filled with the look she caught in her own eyes too many times. She wanted to say yes, that together they could be a pair of Lucky Dice but the words were too much.

“I can’t,” She smiled sadly at him before rolling onto her side, facing him, “I’m scared that the luck will run out.”