#It’s been haunting my dash for days

[camil0ncha]

FINE DAMN IT FINE, I’LL READ SLEUTH JESTERS

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?????

[sundixled]

"You bet these thighs can crush skulls."

[mayamelodyegg]

IVE SEEN FOOTAGE :3 I STAY SILLY ( =･ω･=)

[thetriumphantpanda]

two for the price of one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you've ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That's what brothers are for, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader & Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Like, I literally don't even know anymore. Tommy is a cuck in this one, Joel is a dirty talking menace. Pre/No Outbreak AU. Talk of infertility, mention of consuming alcohol, Breeding kink, girlfriend sharing, masterbation (M), oral (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, plenty of dirty talk, praise kink.

Word Count | 4.2k

Authors Note | I just want to shoutout the anon who left this request in my inbox. It rotted my brain and now we're here. Special shoutout to the JFC - specifically @sinsofsummers for telling me I could do this and @dinsdjrn and @cavillscurls for their help with some of the dialogue here. This is just filth. Pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy.

That damn piece of paper was haunting you, even from its place deep in the drawer where Tommy had stuffed it when he’d opened it and showed you. Its words telling you what you’d both anticipated but had wanted to prove wrong. Tommy. Infertile. Dashing those hopes of your beautiful babies with thick curls and big, beautiful eyes. He’d taken it hard, like it was an abject failure of his own manhood – the one thing he should be able to do beyond anything else, give you the child you so desperately yearned for, he couldn’t. 

There was a week of tension, where you treaded on eggshells, trying not to bring it up, despite desperately wanting to discuss other options. Then came his acceptance of his emotions, late at night, curled up behind you in bed. It started with a light sniffle, then you could feel his tears drip onto the skin of your shoulders, then the whole-body sobs as he held you, told you he was sorry. You’d turned in his arms, wrapped your arms around his neck and held him, whispering softly that it was okay, that it didn’t matter, that you had options. You could still have a family, just perhaps not in the traditional sense. 

Then came the weeks of appointments. You’d met with an adoption agency first. They’d talked you through the application process, what they expected of you, talked about the type of family you want, but Tommy had been adamantly against it for your first child. He wanted something borne of your blood, of your flesh, even if it wasn’t his that joined it. 

Then there were the medical appointments talk of special drugs Tommy could take, or the possibility of IVF, even a sperm donor. It had started to look like these could be an option until the cost was placed in front of you. There was no way either of you could afford it, not even together, not even if you sold the house for something smaller. You’d reached the end of the line with no answers and the thought that you’d have to resign yourself to being childless. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? You could take all the love you’d wrapped up for a baby and put it somewhere else. You could love your niece Sarah harder, give some of it to the children you worked with each day at the school – you didn’t need to be a mother to feel complete. The longer you sat with it though, the more you felt something missing. The end of the line was frustrating and lonely. That was, until Tommy came up with an alternative. 

It's late on a Thursday evening. You’ve just cleaned up from dinner and you’re lounging on the couch with Tommy’s arms wrapped around you, your head resting on one of his shoulders. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He muses above, settling his lips on the crown of your head. 

“Always.” You squeeze the hand you’re resting on his thigh. 

“What if we ask Joel?” 

“To fix the back steps?” You ask, referencing the rotting steps that had needed sorting since winter cleared, “Can’t you just do it yourself?” 

“No sugar,” He clears his throat, “Y’know what, forget I said anythin’.” 

“Tommy,” You grumble, pushing yourself off his shoulder, you rest an arm across the back of the couch where he’s sitting, “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.” 

He’s nervous. You can see the bouncing of his knee, something you’d clocked was a nervous habit on your first date. He’s also running a hand along the back of his neck, exactly what he always does when he’s got to say something difficult. You can also see the start of prickles of sweat on his brow. He’s not just nervous, he’s uncomfortable. You rest a hand on his shoulder, the way he’d taught you to do it when you’d first met, when he was still grappling with the anxiety and PTSD of being a veteran. 

“I’m worried I’m gonna scare you, sugar.” 

You run a hand through his thick head of curls, “Tommy, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise to just hear me out before freaking out, okay?” 

You stick your pinky up, motioning for him to join his own with yours, “Pinky swear, Tommy Miller.” 

 “What if we ask Joel, you know….” He trails off, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for the words he needs, “Fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.” 

“Just take a deep breath and say it all at once.” 

He takes a deep breath in like you instructed, blowing it out through his mouth, “What if we ask Joel to help with gettin’ you pregnant?” 

It takes a minute for what he’s said to properly sink it. Your first train of thought, stupidly, is that Joel is a carpenter, not a doctor, so there’s no possible way he’s qualified to help with this. Then it washes over you all at once. Heat prickling at your cheeks, breath hitching in your throat, you think you might be sick. 

“You want me to sleep with your brother?” You ask, tone coming out far more accusatory than intended, you soften your expression and squeeze his shoulder when you notice how hurt he looks. 

“Well, it certainly ain’t my first option, or the second and third for that matter,” He sighs, “Look, it was stupid, forget I asked.” 

He moves to get up from the couch, but you’re dragging him back down, fingers gripped around his wrist, “It’s not stupid Tommy, but you gotta help me understand how this is an option.” 

He’s looking at you now, big brown eyes with a hint of sadness staring into your own. He cups your cheek in one of his palms, “I know how bad you want this sugar, how much you want a family,” He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, sorry we can’t afford the fancy drugs that would make this easier,” He sighs deeply, “The only option we have is to do somethin’ like this, and if I’m gonna let another man touch you, I want it to be someone I trust, and he’s the only person I would ever trust with this,” He rubs a hand over his face, “Least I know it might have a chance of lookin’ somethin’ like me too, instead of goddamn Steven from Ohio or whoever they’d use.” 

You feel your gut twist when he speaks. This absolutely batshit crazy idea is actually coming from an incredible place of care. He knows you want a child; lord knows you were trying your hardest together to make it happen before that damn piece of paper had to go and ruin it all. 

“You wouldn’t find it weird, knowing I’d had sex with your brother?” 

“Well, it doesn’t mean anythin’, does it baby?” 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” You shrug, it was just a means to an end, “You think he’ll agree?” 

“I don’t know baby,” He answers honestly, wrapping you back into his arms, “I’ll take him out this weekend, ask him and see what he thinks.” 

There’s still something here that doesn’t sit right with you. Sure, it makes sense, and of all the people who you could choose for yourself you’d probably have settled on Joel too. Stoic and sensible Joel, brooding and grumpy Joel. He’d always been kind, had welcomed you into the family with open arms, praised you multiple times for finally keeping his brother on the straight and narrow. He was a good man, loved his little girl with all his heart, would never hurt a hair on your head, but you were still uncomfortable. 

“If he does agree,” You shift nervously on the couch, “I want you to be there.” 

“You don’t trust him?” 

“No, of course I trust him Tommy,” You sigh, “I’d just feel more comfortable if you were there.” 

“Anythin’ for you, sugar.” 

It’s early on Sunday morning when Tommy rolls into bed, 3am to be exact, smelling of whiskey to tell you he’s finally asked Joel to help you. He slinks onto bed and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing over your neck and down your shoulder to wake you. When you finally grumble and admit you’re very muchawake now, with his hand gripping your hip, he’s speaking in a hushed whisper. 

“He said yes.” 

“He take much convincing?” You ask, shuffling around in his arms so you’re facing him, his face gripped in your palms. 

“He was wary, thought I’d lost my mind for a good few minutes,” Tommy leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Told him it was my idea and you’d thought the same, but he came around, think he knows how much we both want this.” 

A part of you had thought he’d say no. That there was no way that stoic, sensible Joel would ever consider sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend in order to knock her up, but he’d proved himself a man of many surprises before. As Tommy presses kisses to your lips and settles you both to sleep, there’s the bubbling of nerves in your belly, of doubt. Are you really doing the right thing? Is this going to make the dynamic between the three of you awkward as hell? Sure, you’re all grown adults and this is just a means to an end, but there’s still the unknown of what comes after.  

Tommy goes out that morning and brings back a bag, filled with ovulation tests and, perhaps a little prematurely, pregnancy tests. You do one of the ovulation tests that morning and as expected, the screen shows a sad face, gratefully showing you that you still have time to prepare for what you’re going to do. Three days later when you do the test again, there’s a grinning happy face, almost taunting you that it’s time to face the music. You show the test to Tommy, who places a palm on the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. He murmurs that he’ll tell Joel, and that’s how not even twenty-four hours later, it really is time to bite the bullet. 

It's late, Joel having insisted that he needed to make sure Sarah was settled and asleep before he came over. You’re sitting at the foot of the bed, legs dangling aimlessly whilst you wait. You really had no idea how this was going to play out, so you’d dressed yourself in a simple cotton nightdress, silk robe tied around your middle for extra coverage. There was an empty whiskey tumbler on the nightstand. You’d had three, maybe four? Enough to take the edge off, but not too much that you weren’t aware of what was happening. 

You hear the doorbell chime and then Tommy’s heavy footsteps downstairs as he opens the door. You can hear his voice and Joel’s mingling together, but you can’t decipher what either are saying. You probably don’t want too either. What could two brothers’ possibly have to say to each other when one is getting ready to sleep with the others girlfriend? You listen to them talk for a bit before you can hear two sets of feet ascending the stairs. You stand from the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for another layer of comfort when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Come in!” You call, bouncing nervously from foot to foot. 

The door swings open and Joel is stood there, dressed in his usual attire, dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt, work boots obviously discarded downstairs, Tommy knew you hated people tracking dirt into the house. He takes a moment to take the sight of you in and you think you must look ridiculous, silk robe making way to bare legs – it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, he could just push the material up, do what he needed to do and be gone, but now you wonder if it looks like you’re trying to seduce him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel’s voice is soft and when you look into his eyes, they are too, and it does put you at some ease, “C’mere.” He’s motioning for you to step closer, opening his arms so he can pull you into a hug. 

You’ve hugged Joel hundreds of times before this, in much the same way. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, the other squeezing into the middle of your back. It’s usually friendly, meaningless really, but when you take in the press of his broad frame, you can’t help but realise you’re going to know him far more intimately than you’d ever imagined by the end of the night. 

He releases you and you’re semi-aware that Tommy has slunk into the room behind his brother, he’s leaning against the wall as he watches Joel take hold of your hand, guiding you back to sit on the bed where you had been before. God, you think, he’s not wasting his time, he wants this to be over just as much as I do. You look up at his broad frame towering over you, if this was anyone else, you’d be intimidated, but he’s still got that soft look to his brown eyes. He shocks you next, cupping your jaw in his hand and running his calloused thumb over your bottom lip. 

He turns his head to Tommy, “You wanna tell me what she likes?” 

Oh. Oh. You’d expected something much more clinical than this. You’d never imagined he’d work to make sure you enjoyed it. You also turn your head in Tommy’s direction. He’s still leant against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other with his arms crossed. 

“She likes getting her pussy eaten, don’t you baby?” 

Joel is gently coaxing your face back to look at him, staring directly into your eyes, “That right, darlin’?” You look up at him as you nod, mouth open a little in shock, “Wanna make sure you enjoy this,” He’s saying, “Gonna take real good care of you.” 

Then, he’s dropping to his knees at the front of the bed, shifting so your legs are draped over his wide shoulders. Whilst Joel is focused on kissing trails from your knee, slowly up the expanse of your thigh, you look to Tommy, who has moved from the wall to sit in the small chair in the corner of the room that you would usually use to read in. He gives you a nod and a small smile, silently telling you to enjoy yourself. Your turn your attention back to Joel between your legs, who has slowly hitched up the cotton of your nightdress to pool at your hips, exposing your pussy to him. 

You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin and there’s an anticipation building that you hadn’t expected. You’re moving your hips, almost subconsciously, to chase the relief you know his mouth was about to bring. Joel has his big palms on your hips then, holding you steady before he’s licking up the length of your pussy, tongue dipping ever so gently between your folds to find your clit. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t noticed you were even holding in, then Joel is moving again, tongue dipping into the entrance of your pussy, licking all the way up again before he’s laser focused on your clit. 

Your hands instinctively rake through his hair, gripping the strands between your fingers to keep him in place as he uses the tip of his tongue to run tight, wet circles to your bundle of nerves. You’re propping yourself up with a hand on the mattress behind you whilst the other keeps its place locking in Joel’s hair. Then, you’re actually grinding your pussy into his mouth, desperate for more but scared to ask for it. 

“It’s okay baby,” You hear Tommy speak from his place on the chair, “We want you to feel good, don’t be shy about askin’.” 

You look down between your thighs and see Joel looking up at you, mouth still latched to your aching pussy, “Joel,” You groan, “Fingers, please.” 

“So polite, darlin’.” He murmurs against your skin before he’s doing as you asked. 

He’s still showering your clit with attention, the sounds of his literal slurping doing nothing to stop the flush of arousal you’re feeling right now, as he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your slick cunt. You don’t know what you’d expected of Joel in this kind of scenario, perpetually single Joel, who never really seemed interested in anyone. You knew now, as he was curling those fingers inside of you, pressing into the spot that had you crying out and gripping his hair tighter than ever, that it wasn’t because of his abilities that he was single. 

“Fuck, holy shit Joel, I think….” 

“You gonna come for him baby?” You hear Tommy ask from the corner of the room. 

“I think…” You let out a sharp cry, “Don’t stop.” 

And he doesn’t. He keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy, tongue still running those tight circles over your bud, but now he latches his lips around it and sucks, actually sucks at your clit. You’re lost. Your elbow buckles and you collapse on your back onto the bed, crying out a string of expletives as Joel works you through your high. Pleasure has burst across your skin, finding every single possible nerve ending and setting you on fire, your thighs are gripping his face as you ride out the last of the shuddering aftershocks on his fingers, pussy walls fluttering around them as you try and catch your breath. 

You can feel Joel recoiling from between your thighs. You can hear the sound of him undoing his belt and then it clattering to the floor. You use your weak arms to push yourself up the length of the bed, head settling in the pile of pillows at the top. You turn your face to Tommy and gasp, hunger igniting in your belly at what you see. Somewhere in the middle of Joel shattering your world between your thighs, Tommy has shucked his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. He’s using his fist to work himself in slow strokes at the sight of you. 

You can feel Joel’s body clambering onto the mattress with you, settling between your thighs with his wide hips spreading your legs an obscene amount to accommodate him. He’s taking hold of your jaw in his hand, dragging your attention back to his face, “You’re fuckin’ me tonight pretty girl,” He growls, “Eyes on me.” 

It isn’t a torturous job by any means. Joel is weathered, his skin holding the early sign of wrinkles at his eyes, beard starting to grey, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Especially when he’s looking at you with eyes that are begging to devour you. He sits back on his knees, taking hold of the belt that is keeping your robe shut across your body to undo the loose knot you’d tied in it. He’s dragging you up by a wrist just far enough to shuck the material from your shoulders, laying you back down to play with the straps of your nightdress. 

“Can I undress you properly, darlin’?” He asks. 

You gulp. Finally noticing that he’s stripped to just his boxers, outline of his incredibly hard cock visible when you let your eyes drag down that far. 

“Go on baby,” Tommy encourages from across the room, “Let him see how beautiful you are.” 

Your eyes are back to holding court with Joel’s own and you nod. He’s pulling you up by the wrist again, sitting you up so he can drag that final bit of material off your body. You lie back down and watch as his eyes drag over every single inch of your skin. 

“Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.” 

He’s got those wide palms dragging down the curves of your sides, holding you in place to just watch you for a second before he’s hooking his thumbs into his underwear and dragging them down his thighs, freeing his cock. He’s fisting himself a few times before he hooks your knees over his arms and slides himself into your waiting cunt. 

It’s all you can do to let out a high-pitched moan at the intrusion, but fuck he feels good. You look up at his face, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he stills inside you once he’d buried in you to the hilt. 

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” He groans as he pulls himself almost all the way out before starting the long, torturous thrust back inside you, “So fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck Joel,” You throw your head back into the pillow, “Feel so good inside me.” 

He’s picking up the pace now, thrusting into you in earnest now. The angle he’s got you folded into means his cock in brushing that fucking spot inside you that is driving you crazy, raising goosebumps and setting you on fire, drawing high-pitched whines from your throat whenever he finds it. 

“Touch yourself baby,” You hear Tommy’s throaty request, you don’t dare look at him for fear of the sight of him finishing you off, “Joel’s gonna want you to come on his cock, so show him what a good girl you can be.” 

Joel is already circling your wrist with his hand, dragging your fingers to your pussy as he watches where his cock disappears inside you. Your own movements are sloppy but the slick that Joel’s mouth has dragged from you make the movement of circles on your own engorged and sensitive clit easy. It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you, clenching your pussy around Joel’s hard cock which hasn’t let up for a single second since he started pounding into you. 

“She’s so fuckin’ pretty, Tommy,” Joel’s voice is low and husky above you, almost desperately so, “So fuckin’ pretty when she comes like that.” 

“Don’t I know it, brother.” You hear his strangled reply. 

Joel is all of a sudden flipping you on the bed, your legs straddling his hips, palms planted on his chest to steady yourself. 

“Take what you want darlin’,” He’s groaning, “Ride my cock and knock yourself up.” 

You do just that, grinding your hips backwards and forwards on his cock with your fingers digging halfmoon shapes into the meat of his chest as you lean forward, bouncing on his cock in earnest. 

His palms are gripping the globes of your ass, knees coming up to rest on your bare skin as he starts fucking up into you, meeting your thrusts halfway. The sounds of your skin slapping together is obscene but oh so delicious. 

“You like when my brother fucks you like that?” Tommy’s deep voice draws your attention to him, he’s still got his cock in his hand but he’s thrusting up into it and you can tell just by the look on his face that he’s close. 

You look him dead in the eyes, breathy moan falling from your lips when you say, “I fucking love it, Tommy.” 

It all happens at once. Tommy is moaning and you can see him start to spill across his hand. Then Joel is gripping your hips, stilling your movements as you feel him start to come inside you, filling you up with his cum, your name falling from his mouth with a tangle of expletives built in for good measure. 

“Fuckin’ take it, pretty girl.” Joel is growling from beneath you, pushing his cock impossibly deep inside you like he’s begging your pussy to soak it all up, to get it to take. 

The room is silent save for the sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath. You collapse, somewhat unceremoniously off Joel’s body and onto the mattress, placing an arm over your eyes to try and calm yourself down. Why the fuck was that so hot? Is all you can think. You’re only semi-aware of him shifting and gathering his things, only semi-aware of Tommy cleaning his hand off on his jeans to re-dress himself. You’re almost asleep when you feel the press of a kiss to your cheek, opening your eyes to find it was in fact Joel who did it, thumb running soothing circles across the skin of your hip. 

“Thank you.” You say meekly, reaching up to cup his face in your palm. 

“My pleasure, darlin’,” He smiles down at you, “I hope it helps.” 

Then he’s gone, following Tommy out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. You can, once again hear their muted voices, but this time, instead of setting you on edge, it lulls you to sleep. By the time Tommy comes back, climbs into bed and spoons you from behind, you’re almost asleep. 

“Did so fuckin’ good for me baby,” He murmurs into your ear, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Through the haze of sleep taking over you, you manage to mumble out, “Hope it works.” 

He chuckles, his body shaking your own where he has you wrapped in his embrace, “Me too baby, me too.” 

Within minutes you’re asleep. So asleep that you don’t feel his hand resting above your womb, silently praying that sooner, rather than later, he’s going to start feeling you swell there. Silently thanking the good lord for giving him such an understanding brother and a girl willing to do anything for him. 

[saigethearies]

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

[akuzeisms]

TAG DUMP

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The Danger Zone (Part 13) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.9k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Daddy and Mommy Issues Galore; Arguments; Crying; Angst with a Dash of Despair; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You show Jake the envelope and set off a bomb in your relationship.

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Master List

A.N. It's Chapter 13 y'all. What else did you expect?

Jake returned home after work, expecting you to be up and walking around. But when you didn’t call out to him as he shut the door behind him, he went looking for you. 

Jake walked further into your shared apartment and paused when he saw you sprawled out on the couch, asleep with the small fan blowing cool air straight onto your face. You were still wearing the clothes that you wore to work that morning. 

He stopped in front of you, taking a moment for himself. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say to you about the promotion. But now that he was home and you were asleep meant that he had more time to think over those words. 

Because it was not going to be an easy discussion. 

Telling you about what the promotion meant for the next few months was not a conversation that he even wanted to think about. The absolute last thing that he wanted to do was stress you out. And the second that you started to look upset or if you started to cry, he’d crumble into dust. He couldn’t think about your broken expression. He couldn’t. It’d haunt him for the rest of his days. 

So, he decided to start with the easier audience. 

“I got promoted today, little one,” he began softly, keeping his voice low as he squatted down in front of your bump. “You shouldn’t be surprised. It was overdue, actually.” The joking smile slipped from his lips as he glanced up at your peaceful sleeping expression. “But there’s a risk that I won’t be here when you finally arrive in a few months. There was always a risk but now it got a little bigger.”

Jake bit his lip and looked down at the floor, trying to keep his own fears and emotions stable. He deserved the promotion he got. He wanted it. He craved it. He earned it. 

But the timing couldn’t have been more shitty. 

“How do you think your mom would take the news?” he whispered to your bump, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “Not well, right?” After a moment of silence, he nodded and added, “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” 

Jake turned to look up at your face, his heart stabbed by the image of how calm and rested you looked laying there. He should have been celebrating. He was the first to get promoted among the Dagger Squad. Cyclone seemed to think that he had a long and successful career in the Navy ahead of him. 

But why did it have to come at the cost of the biggest moments of his personal life? Ones that he would not be able to get back if he missed them. 

“Let’s just keep it between us for right now,” Jake whispered to your bump. “I'll break it to your mom slowly, okay?”

Standing up, Jake leaned over and slowly removed your shoes in an effort to make you more comfortable. There wasn’t much else that he could do without moving you and risking waking you up. So, he got up, changed, and moved to start making dinner. He knew that you would probably be starving when you woke up.

Jake was in the middle of stirring the sauce when he heard you move. Looking over his shoulder at you, Jake removed the pan from the heat and walked over to you as you sat up, rubbing your eyes tiredly. Jake sat on the coffee table in front of you as you glanced out the window, noting the setting sun.

“What time is it?” you yawned.

“Not too late. I’m making dinner,” Jake replied, causing you to smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock, apparently,” you mused, sitting up more. “My back’s going to kill me in a few hours, I know it.” 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s fine. I think I’ll just shower,” you stated, moving to get up. 

Jake offered you his hands and you let him help you up. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you turned and headed for the bathroom. You returned a few minutes later, dressed in one of his shirts and a loose pair of shorts, as Jake was placing a healthy portion of food on a plate for you. 

“Thank you,” you told him softly as he handed you a fork. “How was work?” 

“Fine,” he responded, his voice low. 

“Just fine?” you asked, dropping your voice low in an attempt to match his own. “You know that makes me think that something bad happened.” 

“Well, something did happen,” Jake stated, causing you to set down your fork. When you looked up at him expectantly, he continued, “I got promoted. You’re looking at Lieutenant Commander Seresin.” 

“Oh, Jake,” you praised, getting up from your seat. Walking around the island, you pulled him in for a tight hug. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You deserve it. You’re an amazing aviator,” you replied, releasing him from your hug. You pressed a loving kiss to his lips before smiling up at him. “I’m so proud of you.”

He nodded and gave you another kiss, lingering, and promising more later before pulling back. Resting his forehead against your own, he cupped your bump, gently rubbing his hands over your belly.

As if it was going to be the last perfect moment that the three of you were going to share. 

“Thank you.”

You retook your seat and the two of you chatted some more. You were in the middle of telling him about the crazy lady who called your office earlier when you remembered the weird envelope. 

“And something came in the mail,” you stated, getting up again. Jake watched you curiously, a little confused. You grabbed the blue envelope and returned to the island, holding it out for Jake to take. “It’s from your mom, I think.”

The sharp clatter of Jake’s fork against his plate caused you to wince. 

Studying Jake’s expression, you frowned. Your boyfriend’s warm and comfortable demeanor was gone in a flash and now he was staring at the envelope in your hand like it was a stick of dynamite that he only had three seconds to diffuse before it blew up in both of your faces. 

“Jake?”

“I’ll take it,” Jake replied firmly, taking the envelope from your grip. 

You watched as he walked around and tossed it into the trash, ignoring your incredulous expression. He closed the trash can and returned to his seat, as if nothing ever happened. 

“Jake,” you stated, a bit scolding with your tone. “What the hell?”

You were tired of just pretending like it didn’t bother you that he didn’t share anything about his past with you. You let it slide what felt like a thousand times in the name of keeping the peace and keeping Jake comfortable. Especially when he just shut down and acted out like this at the drop of a hat. Frankly, it scared you, how quickly he could just change.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Jake,” you stated more firmly as you walked to the trash can. “Why are you just throwing it out?”

“Just leave it,” Jake grunted, not looking up. 

“Why?” you challenged him, opening the trash can. 

“Just drop it,” Jake replied definitively, still not meeting your gaze. 

“Jake, I’m not one of your ensigns. And you don’t get to order me around like one,” you snapped a bit, pulling the envelope out of the trash can. Tossing it onto the countertop in front of him, you stared Jake down. “Your mother sent you a card. Why is that causing you to shut down like this?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ve got enough to worry about and I don’t want to stress you out about it.”

“Can you stop using kiddy gloves with me?” you growled, folding your arms over your chest. “I’m pregnant. And ever since we told everyone, people have treated me differently. Acting like I’m weak, like I’m going to fly off the handle, or have some massive medical episode if they have a serious conversation with me. Just tell me, Jake. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“I’m not trying to treat you differently,” Jake defended himself. “There are just things that I don’t want to discuss.”

“Jake, we’ve pushed off this whole conversation for months now. And I would like to have it before the baby comes. And if not now, when?” you asked, him before pointing at the card in front of him. “Why is a little card causing your whole personality to change like this?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Then why can’t you even look at me right now?”

Jake turned to face you with an annoyed expression that made you grind your teeth together. The two of you had a bit of a staring contest before Jake sighed and looked away, running a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t want to fight about something so stupid and stress you out unnecessarily—“

“—You avoiding this conversation is unnecessarily stressing me out,” you interjected, causing Jake’s expression to sour again. “Every time I try to learn about your past, you shut down. A switch just flips in your head and you’re not you anymore. And that terrifies me, Jake.”

“It shouldn’t,” Jake insisted stubbornly. 

“Well, it does,” you snapped back at him. “I mean, if our baby asks you about your parents in a few years, are you going to shut down then? Are you going to storm off? Are you going to yell at them?”

“That’s not fair,” Jake growled, turning back to you. 

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s not. Don’t bring the baby into it.”

“Jake, the baby is the whole reason why we’re here,” you stated, causing his expression to shift again. 

“So, you never would have actually wanted to be in a relationship with me if I didn’t get you pregnant?”

“That’s not what I said, Jake," you snapped back at him.

“Then what are you trying to say?” Jake asked, annoyed as he stood up. “That I wasn’t worth the trouble of telling your brother and Maverick that you’re your own person if I didn’t get you pregnant? That I was only worth it when you had to deal with me?”

“So you get to bring my family into this conversation but I had to learn your mother’s name from an envelope that you would have thrown out if I didn’t see it first?” you shot back at him. “And it’s not my fault that you and my brother and Mav had shit go down before I even moved to San Diego.”

“I’m not saying that it’s your fault,” Jake stressed. "But I'm getting really fucking tired of having to prove myself to them. Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough for them, would make me good enough for you in their eyes."

"What did they tell you?" you asked, frowning.

"Jesus Christ, what didn't they tell me? Your brother thinks I'm still going to walk out on you. That I'm going to be a shit father. Mav doesn't say anything but don't tell me that he doesn't have a plan to get rid of me," Jake stated, causing you to stare up at him with an expression like you didn't know what to do.

"I'll talk to them about it, Jake," you stated quietly, causing Jake to sigh and look away. "What?"

"Are you actually going to talk to them? Are you?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you snapped, getting steadily annoyed.

“I’m just saying that your family isn’t perfect. And sometimes it feels like you need a reminder.”

“At least you know who my family is," you replied defensively. "I couldn’t tell you anything about your life prior to when my brother met you. And that’s weird, Jake!”

“Why do you care so much about it?” he pressed, causing your temper to flare up. 

“Because we’re having a baby together! And you’re making me feel like I’m insane for asking you questions about your past!”

“There are things that you don’t want to talk about, and I respect your boundaries. Why can’t you respect that I don’t want to talk about my parents?” Jake demanded, turning away from you. 

“Jake, I’m not asking for every little painful detail about your childhood. I’m just asking for an explanation for why you shut down like this when we talk about your family."

“Because my parents are assholes and I have no intention of talking to them ever again.”

“Why are you never going to talk to them again? Help me understand that, Jake,” you practically begged him for some kind of emotional depth. “I don’t understand, so help me, Jake. Because I would give a hell of a lot to have my parents back. What happened that made you feel this way? What happened that made you feel that cutting them out of your life was the only way to protect yourself?”

“I’m trying to protect you and our baby at this point,” Jake replied after a few moments. 

“Why do we need protection from your parents?”

“Because they’re snobby assholes who would never consider you part of their family. And I know that you’ve built up this image of our kid having loving family on both sides and grandparents to spoil them, but that’s not going to happen. My family isn’t going to want anything to do with you or the baby regardless of anything that you do.” Jake shifted his weight on his feet before asking, “Is that a good enough explanation for why I don’t want to talk about my parents?”

“It’s a start,” you stated, causing Jake to scoff and shake his head, turning away from you.

“Is everything fair game now?” Jake muttered sarcastically, earning a glare from you. 

“What have I ever kept from you, Jake?” you asked calmly, glaring over at him. "Really, what do you want me to tell you about?" 

“Why’d you break off your engagement to Connor?” Jake asked bluntly, causing you to stare at him incredulously. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jake?”

“No,” Jake returned, causing your temper to raise quickly again. “If you broke up with a guy that you were with, got engaged to, after five years together and your family seemed to love, adore, and respect the guy, what’s keeping you here with me? Besides the fact that I knocked you up.”

Grinding your teeth together, you took a breath to settle yourself. You turned back to Jake, who waited expectantly for your response. Your mind made up, you straightened, and stared him down.

“I broke up with Connor because he was an asshole who kept things from me because he felt that I didn’t deserve to know them, even though we were getting married, belittled me when I tried to call him out on it, and made me feel like shit because he knew that I loved him, and he took advantage of that to keep me there.” You paused for a moment, your lips wobbling a bit, before you added harshly, “But I’m really fucking glad that I learned from that mistake.”

Jake’s annoyed expression broke, but you didn’t stand around to watch it fall. Turning on your heel as tears started to gather in your eyes, you walked away from him. Grabbing your phone, purse, and keys, you moved to slip your shoes on as Jake walked over to you. 

“Where are you going?”

“This is your apartment. So, I’m going to get some air.”

“You shouldn’t be driving when you’re upset," Jake insisted, a bit frantic as he gently reached for your arm.

“I can take care of myself, Jake,” you snapped, pulling your arm out of his grip. 

“But you’re pregnant.”

“Congratulations, Seresin, you have eyes.”

“Wait—”

You turned and shot him a look that made his blood turn cold. Reaching for the doorknob, you yanked it open harshly and stepped out into the hallway. 

“Don’t follow me.”

The door slammed shut behind you, causing Jake to wince and lower his head. 

~~~~~

Maverick was sitting on his couch, watching a baseball game when his phone started to buzz. Rolling over, he raised an eyebrow when he saw that Jake was calling him. Answering it, he held his phone to his ear. 

“Jake?”

“Mav,” Jake returned, his tone sounding off. 

“Something wrong?” When Jake didn’t reply immediately, Maverick sat up, concerned, and alert. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

“No. We . . . we had a fight and she stormed off and she’s not answering my calls and I’m pretty sure that she never wants to see or talk to me ever again, but I need someone to go and look for her and make sure that she’s okay,” Jake rambled, starting to get more and more hysterical as he went on.

And Maverick only felt his concern grow when he heard the emotion in Jake’s voice. Hangman was never the type to panic. Maverick had seen other members of the Dagger Squad panic in the air and on the ground, even just for a few seconds, but never Hangman.

If Jake was freaking out, Maverick was going to freak out.

“And I didn’t know who else she would turn to and I didn’t even want to think about calling Rooster—”

“—No, I can handle it,” Maverick agreed, walking over to the door. Sliding on his jacket, Maverick adjusted the phone in his hand as he reached for his keys. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No.”

“What set her off in the first place?” 

“We were talking about my family.”

Maverick knew that wasn’t the whole story and that Jake was probably avoiding saying specifics to keep Maverick on the phone, but he didn’t press it. You were out there somewhere, alone, upset, and pregnant and that was Maverick’s priority. He could deal with whatever set the whole situation off in the first place once you were found safe and sound. 

“She took her car?”

“Yes.”

“What direction did she head in when she left?”

“She’s heading towards base or you or Rooster.”

“Alright, well . . .” Maverick trailed off when he saw your car pull into his driveway. 

“What?”

“She’s here,” Maverick stated, hanging his keys up.

Sliding his jacket off his shoulders, Maverick paused for a moment, thinking about what else to say to Jake. Was Maverick shocked that the two of you had a fight that resulted in one of you storming off? No, not really. But he needed the facts. And he first and foremost needed to know that you were okay.

As did Jake.

“I’ll make sure that she and the baby are safe. You don’t have to worry about them here.”

“Thank you,” Jake croaked out quietly. 

The two men stood on the line in silence, both knowing that there were more conversations to be had, but both also knowing that their priorities were elsewhere at the moment. 

“I’ll call or text you if she’s ready to talk to you.”

“Alright,” was all Jake replied. 

“Bye, Jake.”

Maverick hung up the phone and opened the door, taking a step out as you slowly walked down the path from the driveway. Tears had already dried on your cheeks and fresh ones appeared in your eyes when you saw Maverick waiting for you. After a moment, you broke down and Maverick rushed forward, gathering you in his arms and quickly leading you inside the house. 

“Jake and I had a fight,” you cried as Maverick closed the door behind you.

“It’s going to be alright.”

~~~~~

Jake sat with just the kitchen light on, giving him just a little bit of light to see. Looking at the blue envelope on the coffee table with his mother’s scrawl written on it, Jake slowly picked it up. Ripping the envelope open, Jake pulled out a simple card like the ones that people would buy in a store.

It was a simple card that just helped destroy your relationship. 

Opening the card, Jake paused when he saw the cartoon baby on the left side of the card. With his heart beating harder in his chest, Jake turned to read the paragraphs that his mother wrote to him.

Jake,

I hope that this card finds you somehow, unlike my other messages. I miss you, sweetheart, and hope that you’re being safe flying around and not pushing limits like you usually do. Though I guess you get that from your father. He asks about you still. I know that the two of you have your differences, but maybe this new phase of life that you’re entering will change your perspective a little bit. 

I heard that you’re having a baby with a girl out in California. I hope that everything’s going well with her and that she and the baby are healthy. And that you’re getting married, which is the right thing to do. And I hope that the two of you love each other and your child with everything in your hearts. 

I’d love to meet her, Jake. And give her a beautiful gift. She’s the mother of my grandbaby and if you love her, I love her too, honey. You’re going to be a wonderful father. I hope you have a strong, sweet little boy to carry on the Seresin name. 

I haven’t told your father about what I heard, but that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t heard it. Please, honey, call me. The number’s the same. I just want to talk.

Love,

Mom

Jake set the card down and held his head in his hands for a moment. His mind was racing and his hands were starting to shake. There was too much going on and he had control over too little of it for him to feel calm and collected. He felt like the world was spinning and he was just getting thrown around. 

Angrily tossing the card away, Jake got to his feet and stormed off, heading down the hall to his bedroom. But when he stepped inside and saw your pregnancy pillow there, mocking him, a batch of hot, frustrated tears slipped down his cheeks. 

Dropping to his knees, Jake slammed his fist onto the carpeted floor, before holding his head in his hands and breaking down. 

~~~~~

You laid on your side in Maverick’s spare bedroom, staring out the window. You were in no emotional state to go back to see Jake and talk about your fight and you didn’t want to make it worse. Maverick told you to stay as long as you needed, and you were taking him up on his offer. You told him not to tell anyone else about what happened for now and he agreed. And after giving you some dinner and a thousand pillows, Maverick left you alone with your thoughts. 

Looking out the window, you rubbed your hand down your bump, hoping that you’d at least feel your baby move tonight. But when they didn’t move like normal, you couldn’t help the choked sob that escaped your lips nor the tears down your cheeks. 

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I Come With Knives

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I am not tagging anybody in this because this fic deals with very heavy subjects and I don't want to force anybody into that unexpectedly.

Title comes from "I Come With Knives" by IAMX

Warnings: blood, injury, blood drinking, mentions of past abuse (not explicit), mentions of emotinal/psychological abuse, mentions of (emotional) manipulation, self-inflicted injury (somewhat vague in description), trauma, slavery mention, angst with a dash of fluff here and there

If I need to add more PLEASE let me know

Word Count: 2,025

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First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

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The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew what he was. Even in the sunlight, those crimson eyes, the fangs, the bite marks. There was no denying it. But he never said anything about it, never brought it up, nor did he eat in front of you - so you let it lie.

You weren’t a vampire, fortunately, but unfortunately you’d been… a slave… to one. You toss and turn at night, imagining you’re back in her arms. Writhing under her, light fading as she drinks too much in her anger. How she coos and cuddles you afterward, urging water and fruit into your mouth as you cling to her. You wake up nauseous and panting, cold sweat sticking to your skin.

“Bad dream?”

You whipped around, the dagger you kept under your pillow aimed at the owner of the voice. Astarion chuckled, hands raised to show he was unarmed. You sighed and dropped your weapon.

“A really bad dream, then, or are you always so quick on the draw?”

You stay quiet and wipe the sweat off your brow and upper lip. There was a stream nearby… but the thought of being alone out here at night terrified you. Sleeping out in the open with another vampire mere feet away was bad enough.

But there was nothing else you could do now to distract your mind. Her eyes, her smile were burned into your every thought, taunting you, beckoning you back to her.

“I dreamt of my master,” you admit. His eyes squint with intrigue. You feel bile in the back of your throat. “She haunts me every time I close my eyes. I can’t get rid of her.”

He hums, contemplative. “When you say ‘master’...”

You hum, thinking you knew precisely what he was going to say. “She’s probably not too different from yours.”

All at once, he shuts down. The playful, charismatic aura about him turns to stone in a heartbeat. His voice is sour and sharp when he speaks, like a snake’s hiss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then pretend I said nothing, but you’re not exactly trying to hide what you are.”

He opens his mouth, fangs prominent, but the conversation is cut short when someone shifts in their bedroll. You both watch, waiting for the still silence to return. Even once it does, he says nothing.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” You tuck your dagger back under your pillow and lay back down, tugging the blanket up and over your neck. He catches a glimpse of puncture wounds before they’re hidden away once more.

-

It’s almost noon the next day when he brings it up. Shadowheart and Gale forge ahead, chatting idly about their goddesses. When he sidles up beside you, you wait for him to speak.

“I thought I was being subtle.” It’s light, almost a pout. He doesn’t want to scrape past the surface just yet.

“The fangs and eyes could be excused, if you weren’t an elf. But I’d recognize a scar like that anywhere.” You look at him from the corner of your eye. “And the jokes were a little on the nose.”

His lip quirks up. He looks at you appraisingly, sizing you up. “You have the same scar,” he pointed out. You looked straight ahead again. He looked too… pleased with himself for noticing. “No wonder you wear a high collar - it looks deep.”

“I…” you swallow. Thinking about her makes you so flustered. It’s hard to find words when just thinking about it placed a boulder in your gut. “I was her personal blood supply. Every night, she…”

You don’t see the way his face softens. Haughty superiority replaced with a sort of sorrow. Empathy.

“I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it.”

Leaves brush up against each other around you with the coming and going of a cool breeze. The only other sound besides the conversation up ahead was the sound of boots stepping on dirt and over branches. You focus on it all, desperate to distract your mind.

Astarion clears his throat. “Your form is lousy, by the way.”

You turn and stare at him as though he’d sprouted a second head.

He pretended to study his nails. “When you threatened me last night, your grip was sloppy. And you’d never be able to land a solid blow, not without breaking your wrist first. Threatening an enemy is only as good as your ability to act on it.”

“So my form was like an empty threat?”

He grinned at you like you were a child grasping the alphabet for the first time. “Precisely.”

“And I assume you’d be the one to teach me how to improve?”

“Darling, there’s no one better. I would be willing to give you a pointer or two. If you ask nicely.”

You smiled despite yourself. And later, back at camp, you said please and he showed you everything you needed to know to defend yourself.

-

The stars glisten overhead. Each twinkle is a secret shared between them. A whisper of gossip. You can almost imagine what it would sound like - the tinkling of bells, the soft clink of porcelain.

Astarion purposefully makes his steps louder so you don’t startle when his face pops into your vision. The bags under his eyes seem deeper. His cheeks more hollowed than usual, skin sickly white instead of simply pale. He nudges his head toward the forest, and waits impatiently as you stand to follow.

Long strides carry him quickly through the underbrush, you’re nearly jogging to keep up. And suddenly he stops, ways enough from camp that talking wouldn’t wake anybody up.

He paces, almost frantic. “I don’t know who else to come to for this. The others already don’t trust me - they’d kill me before showing an ounce of kindness.”

“Astarion, what are you talking about?”

He groans and comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes are crazed and starved and apologetic. “I’m hungry,” he finally quietly admits. He takes a step back when he sees the microexpressions in your face. The way your eyes become distant and sharp. At the same time as your mind wanders to your master, you were searching him for any signs of danger. “I know what you’ve been through, but I can’t keep slinking off to eat squirrels and boar - it’s not enough, not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak. I’m open to suggestions, darling, really. I’d much rather not latch onto an old scab.”

When he says it, you turn your head away to hide that side of your neck. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. He can hear your heart racing in your chest. He’s worried for a moment that you’ll pass out. But he waits, as patient as a starving vampire can be, while you think. He makes no move forward, no efforts to reach toward you or grab you.

If eating animals couldn’t satisfy him enough, then only bigger prey would. Your mind jumps to shout “HUMAN” in your ear, but then you’re reminded of the bodies left in your wake. With each encounter, all manner of unsavory types were abandoned, left to rot and decay.

“T- The goblins? Could you eat those?”

He huffs, frustration seeping into his tone. “Well, yes, but there’s a startling lack of them for at least a mile down the road. With your permission, I’d be more than happy to eat my fill after a fight - even during, should it come to that. But if I have to fight tomorrow like- like this,” he gestures to himself, but his voice chokes before he can describe what may happen. He sighs.

The moon watches silently as you struggle against yourself. The stars whisper vitriol to each other, giggling as you clench and unclench your fists. You could do it. You could help him, right now. But just thinking about his mouth on your neck-

You swallow. “I may have an idea. I- I don’t know how well it’ll work, but…”

“I’m all pointy ears, darling.”

You stumble over your words, trying and failing to explain your thoughts. Eventually, you huff in annoyance with yourself and tell him to wait there, before disappearing back in the woods towards camp. You grab your dagger from beneath the pillow, an empty bottle you found, and a roll of bandages.

He frowns when he sees what you’ve returned with. “What are you doing with all that?”

You shove the roll of bandages towards him and he takes them, unwilling to upset you further when your face was set with such determination. You hold the bottle under your arm and steady your blade against your hand.

“Darling, what-”

The smell of blood hits him like a tidal wave. He can’t tear his eyes away. Something animalistic inside of him wants to lunge for a drink; it takes every ounce of his willpower not to.

You uncork the bottle with your teeth and line the dripping blood up with the whole. With a squeeze and a whimper, blood begins to fill the container. The drip slows when the bottle is halfway full. Even for a small jar, it’s impressive. You hold it out for him to take, a slight tremor in your fingertips. “Drink it.”

He can’t argue. He can barely form the words to say anything. All he can think about is the sanguine fluid presented to him. He licks a stray drip trailing down the side of the bottle with a sigh. So sweet. So warm. Thick and rich, not some watered down rancid rat’s blood. He’s groaning as he tips it back, gulping every last drop down.

In his distraction, you pull the bandage from his hand. It takes no effort at all. You wrap a section around your hand.

Astarion sighs long and low when he finishes. His eyes are closed, savoring the taste on his tongue. “That was…” He huffs with a smile, fangs bared and tinted with your blood. When the daze of hunger passes, his eyes find you.

You tried repeatedly to hold the bandage in place, pinning it between the back of your hand and your stomach, trying to hold onto it with your fingers, even trying to use your teeth. It falls each time. You’re careful not to let it hit the ground. You had enough to worry about - best not add infection to the list. Pale hands stop you before you can try again.

You startle away at first. His fingers barely wrap around your wrist, making no effort to hold you in place, only to hold you steady. His other hand takes hold of the bandage.

“May I?” It’s deep, almost seductive. He has a smirk on his face again. Already his skin is gaining the slightest tint of color; his eyes don’t look as tired. “It’s the least I could do.”

Everything inside of you tells you to run away. He’s too close. One quick movement while you’re off guard and he could drain you dry. He could hurt you. Your dagger is abandoned on the ground, dirt sticking to the wet blood along its edge as it waits to be cleaned. You’re defenseless.

With the barest nod, he gets to work. Nimble fingers wrap the cloth securely and tie it off on the back of your hand, out of the way so you can still hold onto things. He guides your hand to his mouth and you’re scared he’ll tear the bandage off and dig his teeth and tongue into the cut, but all he does is place a small kiss over it.

“This is a gift, you know,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded not with lust - but something reminiscent of it. A poor imitation. “I won’t forget it.”

He lets go of your hand. With a smile - too devious to be genuine - he slips back into the woods.

Her eyes don’t haunt you in your dreams that night. Her mouth doesn’t curl around contempt and honeyed words. All you see is him. His eyes staring through thick lashes into yours as his lips place a feathered kiss on your hand.

[satansapostle6]

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Smut. Switch dynamic. Praise. Rough sex. Oral(both receiving). Slight choking. Overstimulation. Spitting. Blood. Minors DNI.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine: Coney Island Baby

After their return from Hades, Luke and Katherine slept for an entire two days. They were exhausted beyond understanding. It had taken Luke a while to readjust to mortal luxuries, like time and space.

Luke eventually woke one morning to sunlight pouring in through the window, a welcome improvement from their time in the Underworld. Katherine slept beside him in their shared bed, and all was well at the moment. He knew to relish in the present calmness, as it naturally wouldn’t last.

He was happy to wake up without anywhere they had to go, or a nightmare to recover from. Luke was pretty sure he’d had a nightmare some time in the first few hours of sleeping, but eventually, so much time had passed he’d since forgotten them. He laid in the hotel bed with his feet curled into his body as Katherine faced him, mirroring his body language.

“You okay?” she asked softly, a smile on her face for what felt like the first time in forever.

He nodded, genuinely able to mirror that smile. “Yeah. I’m okay. I feel a lot better.”

“Me too,” Katherine nodded. “I feel like the Underworld really fucked us up.”

“Yeah… I guess we have more to be haunted by than most people.”

“We should do something fun,” she sighed, “And not be miserable for once.”

“I think… that’s a really good idea,” Luke decided, his voice still deep from exhaustion. “I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“I wanna go to Coney Island,” she said slowly. “I’ve never been. I wanna know what Lou Reed was talking about.”

“Okay,” Luke agreed, not needing any further reasoning. “Coney Island it is.”

It felt great to the both of them waking up at 2 PM. As Luke finished his shower, towel still wrapped around his waist, he heard Katherine speaking, but couldn’t hear the words. Opening the bathroom door, he emerged with wet hair.

“What’s that?”

Standing coquettishly against the wall, in only an oversized shirt that he’d lent to her, she didn’t bother to hide the grin on her face as she spoke.

“What should I wear?” she asked.

This was a question Luke never expected from Katherine. He’d always felt that she was a very confident sort of person, the kind of person who just always woke up knowing exactly what they wanted to wear. If anything, he would’ve thought she’d tell him what to wear.

“…What do you want to wear?” he asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“I don’t know. Something I wouldn’t usually wear,” she admitted. “Something you can’t find somewhere that sells fishing bait.”

“What do you like?” Luke asked, genuinely curious what she actually liked that wasn’t leather jackets or jeans.

“I don’t know,” Katherine admitted. “…Should I wear a skirt?”

“If you want to, yeah,” he nodded, kind of flustered. “That’d look nice.”

“Alright,” she shrugged, still looking at him even though the conversation had come to a conclusion.

Luke watched as her eyes slowly trailed downward, chuckling as he put his hands on his hips.

“What you looking at?” he asked.

“Your face,” she smiled innocently, crossing her arms as she met his gaze.

“That’s not my face.”

“Oops,” she shrugged, wandering off as he just shook his head.

Luke truthfully wasn’t really sure what was going on with Katherine, but he didn’t really question it. They were both having fun. He figured eventually, he’d figure out if she would be a friend, girlfriend, or something in between.

He decided to put on his nice brown leather jacket and a dash of cologne, putting in the effort that he felt someone like Katherine deserved.

“You ready?” he called, car keys in hand.

“Yeah,” she called, slowly coming out of the bathroom after putting on her makeup.

Luke had almost forgotten she was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. She had the softest skin, the prettiest lips, and long, shiny hair. She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and what he could only describe as one of the shortest denim skirts he had ever seen, along with a pair of heeled leather boots.

He could smell her perfume, and it made him feel lightheaded with ecstasy.

“How do I look?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Like I’m gonna have to win you every stuffed animal they’ve got,” he said proudly.

He playfully threw his arm around her as they climbed into the Pontiac and headed for Coney Island.

“I’m gonna tell people you’re my boyfriend so they get scared you’re gonna beat the shit outta them,” Katherine said as she put on her lip gloss on the car.

“I’m gonna tell people you’re my girlfriend so they think I’m really cool,” Luke smiled.

For once, the voices in his mind were quiet. There was no screaming, and no pain or guilt. All he thought about was how much he really, really liked Katherine as they sang along to Smashing Pumpkins in the car. Wandering around Coney Island and going on the roller coasters with her was enough to make him forget about being anything more than a person.

For the first time in his life, Luke didn’t have to do anything. He wasn’t too busy saving the world to realize that his world might just be someone else.

As he watched Katherine genuinely laughing and smiling, he felt he didn’t deserve the chance to see it. It was so unusual to him, seeing her enjoying herself. It definitely felt strange that it was being with him that made her enjoy herself. But he loved every minute of it, whether it was exploring with her, or sitting next to her on rides, or standing behind her in lines so that she could live in peace.

“Oh, look. A basketball game,” Katherine pointed out.

“You wanna play?” he asked her.

“No, I wanna watch you play,” she grinned.

“Okay,” he sighed jokingly, “Which one do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Luke examined the wall of various sizes of stuffed animals, trying to decide which one he liked the best. Eventually, he settled on a tiger, because in a strange way, Katherine reminded him of one. It didn’t take long for him to make enough baskets to win one. He’d gotten just about every single one, which Katherine admittedly found attractive in him as she picked at the pink cotton candy he’d decided to get for them.

Luke turned around with a goofy grin as he showed off the stuffed tiger he’d won for her. Laughing happily, Katherine excitedly jumped into his arms as he caught her instinctively, stunned and touched by the gesture. Luke gladly spun her around in a circle as he allowed her to wrap her legs around him, the two of them fitting in with the families around them surprisingly well.

Katherine pulled away as Luke held her in his arms, throwing her own arms around his neck as she went in for a big, romantic kiss in the middle of the boardwalk. In that moment, the one thought swimming around in Luke’s head was that he really had been to hell and back with this girl.

Neither of them were in any rush to pull away. The kiss ended very slowly as they separated, only to see one another’s smiles.

“I’d kill for you,” Katherine whispered, giggling as they seemed entirely wholesome to the people around them.

“I’d die for you,” Luke reminded her, setting her back down on the ground. “And. You deserve all the tigers in the world.”

She eagerly accepted the gift, taking the animal as she made it face him, playfully snapping her teeth in a joking bite as he admired her.

“Thank you. For today,” he told her.

“Why are you thanking me?” she asked.

“Because, you let me see you smile,” Luke stated simply.

“I’ll let you see it even more if we can ride the roller coaster again,” she incentivized.

“Again? I’m gonna throw up,” he groaned.

They had spent almost all of their waking hours at Coney Island before they decided to go. Luke certainly didn’t mind driving as he watched Katherine blissfully do nothing for once.

“So, what do you wanna do?” he asked her readily. “Today’s about you.”

“Wanna keep the fun going?” she asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

Luke raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Why? What’ve you got in mind?”

“Let’s find a dive bar,” she suggested, an array of ID’s in hand. “I’ll kick your ass at pool.”

“You’re on,” he accepted.

Playing pool with Katherine while they each had a beer at a dive bar would’ve been fun, if it weren’t for the men in the room. Luke wasn’t sure if it was how much he cared about Katherine, or how he felt he owed her for completing Ares’s ‘quest’, or just common decency, but he wanted to gouge out every wandering eye in the room.

It was all he could think about as they played and drank. He knew it was ridiculous, because Katherine could easily kill everyone in the room probably better and faster than he could, but he still wanted to ‘defend her honor’, or something. Perhaps he just wanted to murder anyone who looked at her the wrong way.

He knew she could sense it. She knew why he stood right behind her every time she leaned over the pool table to take her shot. But, what he didn’t know, was that she took pleasure in the way he would lightly brush up against her. The tension definitely made several hours go by pretty quickly.

“Hey, Katherine?” he said, wanting to be serious for a moment.

“Hmm?” she looked up.

“I, uh… I know we moved past it, but… I just wanted to apologize for the way I treated you that night. With Ares,” Luke reminded her. “I should’ve told you how grateful I was to you, for what you did.”

“You don’t have to,” she promised him, knowing it was bound to come up sooner or later. “I know.”

“Okay,” he nodded, feeling less guilty.

“Alright,” she smiled, taking his hand in hers as she squeezed it for reassurance.

“For the record,” Luke purred, leaning down and whispering softly in her ear. “I wish I could’ve killed them myself.”

She looked up at him in surprise, feeling as if Tartarus had changed him.

“You deserve that much,” he told her, lightly brushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she remarked.

“You want another drink?” he asked, cautiously glancing behind her at the man leering as he sat at the bar.

“Why don’t we go back?” she suggested.

“Sure. You go out to the car, I’ll just be a second,” Luke told her.

Katherine took the car keys from him and disappeared as Luke headed to the bar, crossing his arms as he approached the man who had been hungrily eyeing her for the past hour.

“Hey,” he said, his tone rather confrontational.

“Hey,” the man grinned in response, not perceiving a single reason as to why Luke could be angry with him. “Quite the hottie you got there. What an ass.”

Luke made a face, at both the comment and its unfortunate phrasing, watching as the man’s friend seemed to also think it was somehow cool. Not appreciating the lack of common decency, Luke heard a voice in the back of his head that just said ‘fuck it’. He snapped and pulled a folding knife from his pocket, holding it inches from the man’s face as he slammed it onto the bar.

Everyone around him stopped, not quite sure how they wanted to react to the situation yet. Luke calmly held the knife to the man’s face as both he and his friend panicked.

“Ah! What the fuck?!” the man hissed, his face smashed into the table.

“Yo, we don’t want any trouble!” his friend blurted out drunkenly.

“Talk about my girlfriend like that, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out,” Luke threatened, waiting for him cry.

Not having anything else to add, the man nodded quickly, begging Luke not to hurt him as he roughly shoved him, leaving the bar as everyone, including the bartender, just watched, fully aware that calling the police to that particular establishment would just be bad for business.

Luke eventually joined Katherine in the car, climbing into the driver’s seat as she looked at him calmly.

“You okay?” she asked coolly.

“More than,” he assured her, feeling as if he’d done his part. “Also, we can’t come back here.”

“Okay,” Katherine shrugged, fully aware of what must’ve happened.

Luke started the car angrily, starting to wish he’d followed through on his promise. She could definitely tell the mood he was in.

“I bet it was really hot,” she said finally, “Watching you make that guy squirm.”

Luke stopped, turning to look at her as he knew exactly what she wanted.

“That’s nothing. You should see me make you squirm.”

That was what did it. Never before had Luke ever seen two eighteen year-olds more determined to do anything. It was practically a race back to the hotel. Luke had to fight every urge to carry Katherine through the hotel lobby, elevator, and hallway. As soon as the door closed behind them and Luke’s jacket was thrown off, it was a free-for-all.

Katherine jumped into his arms, kissing him passionately as she felt his strong arms wrapped around her. He sighed heavily into the kiss, high on her scent as he set her back down on the ground.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked her, searching within her eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” she promised him.

That was all he needed to know. They all but slammed into one another in a messy kiss, his tongue driving her insane. She helped him pull his shirt over his head, gasping lightly as she felt his cold hands underneath her skirt, kneading her skin, hard.

“I want your thong in between my teeth,” Luke said suddenly.

Katherine sighed. “I love ADHD sex.”

Her hands slowly ran all the way down his bare chest as he kissed her, still playfully groping at her ass.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” she teased.

“Neither do you,” he promised her.

He slid her skirt down her legs in one swift move, watching, aroused, as she got down on her knees to get his pants off. She patiently pulled down his briefs, her response to which could only be described as a greedy gasp.

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he gasped, his hand slowly combing through her hair.

Grinning up at him, Katherine’s eyes darkened as she only opened her mouth, tongue just barely sticking out as she silently told him what to do.

“Oh fuck, I could die right now,” he groaned.

He slowly inserted himself into her mouth, gasping at the sensation. His pace gradually picked up as he held onto the back of her head, thrusting as fast as she wanted him to. She looked up at him coolly, eyes calm and serene as he fucked her face, thrusting so hard he was surprised she didn’t choke or cry at all. She didn’t even seem fazed; she was enjoying it wholeheartedly. Luke groaned, enjoying every second of it.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good…”

He hardly even felt the need to contain his excitement. But eventually, he couldn’t wait anymore. Pulling out of her mouth, Luke grabbed her by her face, pressing a hard, wet kiss to her lips as he forcefully pried her mouth open and spit in it roughly, gulping as she looked him in the eyes as she swallowed. He could’ve fallen in love right then and there.

“You’re so fucking nasty, I love it,” he said in a low drawl.

Katherine loved that he didn’t care if kissing her after she’d had his dick in her mouth was disgusting. She mounted him eagerly, chuckling as he impatiently started grinding against her as she peeled off her undergarments.

Before she could, Luke aggressively flipped her over, grinning in an animalistic fashion as he pinned her down, nipping at her neck as he made his way down her body.

“Fuck,” she gasped.

She pulled, hard, on his hair as his veiny hands pawed at her breasts, not sparing her the pain as he took each of her nipples between his teeth, encouraged by her pulling his hair. He whined hungrily as he moved downward, positioning himself between her legs as he dug his fingers into the soft skin on her thighs.

Luke hungrily bit down on her hip bone as she laughed maniacally. He bit down on her thong, slowly pulling it down with his teeth before taking it off.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he moaned, burying his face in between her legs with greed as he just breathed her in for a moment. “I’d do anything for you. Fuck me, you’re so wet.”

Katherine sighed as he suddenly latched his mouth onto her clit, roughly massaging her hips as he strategically overstimulated her.

“Fuck!” she hissed, giving his hair a harsh tug as he moaned into her, tongue still lapping at her insides. “I’m gonna rip you apart!” she vowed in anger.

He pinned her down to the bed by her his, grunting crudely as he ate her out. He wouldn’t let anything interrupt him.

“Wrap your legs all the way around. Fuck my face. Let me make you come on my face,” he ordered impatiently, sighing into her as she sucked him into her.

He felt as if she were some sort of violent ocean that he couldn’t help but get sucked into. He flicked his tongue faster and faster, groaning as he felt her thighs shaking around him. His head was completely trapped, not that he even cared. He stayed out, attacking her with his tongue until he felt her finish. Even as she got even wetter, he didn’t stop, reveling in his accomplishments as she pulled on his hair.

He looked up at her, eyes wide and locked on her as she glared at him. When he was finished, he didn’t waste a second. Flipping her over and manhandling her like a rag doll, he made it so that they were both sitting up on the bed, as he slowly buried himself in her, as she still came, losing his mind.

He held her close to him by softly holding onto her throat, his big hand wrapped around her neck for balance. This was essentially his love language.

“Fuck, Luke! Holy shit!” she gasped, feeling how long it took for him to completely bottom out. “Luke…!”

“That’s it,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he lost himself in her, “Let everyone know my name… Please, Katherine, please,” he begged her.

She gasped as he picked up the pace, his cold hand on her neck somehow making her chest feel even hotter. He slammed into her harder and harder, making her groan as she impatiently pulled away from him, lying down as she pulled him down on top of her, kissing him hard.

“I wanna see the stupid fucking look on your face while you fuck me,” she hissed.

“Katherine!” he cried out, almost collapsing on top of her as he lovingly kissed all over her neck. “Fuck. You’re everything.”

“I’m gonna fucking destroy you,” she cooed mockingly as she shoved his face into her neck, her hands resting on his back.

“Go ahead,” he pleaded, “Make me yours. Fucking destroy me, just use me…!”

He moaned loudly as he penetrated, trying to control himself as felt her fingernails digging into his back. He nearly screamed like some sort of horror movie character as she clawed her fingers down his back so hard she started to draw blood.

Luke huffed excitedly as he thrusted in and out of her, completely burying his face in her chest.

“Shit!” he gasped. “Oh…”

He cried out, overstimulated as she scratched up and down his back. He knew there was blood dripping, but hardly even thought about it. He didn’t want to finish yet, but he also knew that he was enjoying being with her too much to really do anything about it.

“It’s okay baby,” she promised him, one hand playing with his hair. “Just come. Come for me,” she whispered.

“Tear me apart!” he hissed. “Fucking destroy me!”

He felt himself fuck like he never fucked before. He thrusted in and out of her so hard, she saw splotches of black as she dug her nails into his muscular back. She sighed as he kissed the side of her neck, refusing to stop worshipping her with affectionate little kisses. Just as he felt her getting so wet he knew she must’ve came again, he moaned softly as he braced himself.

“Luke,” she whispered, mouth agape as he kept going.

“Fuck, that’s so unfair, don’t say my name like that,” he whined.

Reaching a shared climax unlike anything either of them had ever felt before, he pulled out, coming all over her bare stomach with her nails still digging into his back. Panting hard, he collapsed on top of her, continuing his worshiping as he kissed all over her neck.

“Katherine, you’re so beautiful,” he gushed. “You’re a fucking goddess. I don’t deserve you. I love the way you hurt me,” he moaned, falling on top of her.

She appreciated the way he put his full weight on her, sighing in exhaustion as she worked her fingers through his hair. There was come and blood kind of everywhere, but to both of them, it seemed to feel right. That’s what they were together, just come and blood.

“I think I’m in paradise when I’m with you,” she murmured.

“I’d come in my pants if you told me you hated me,” Luke confessed, flipping over beside her to give her some room to breathe.

Sitting up, Katherine momentarily excused the come on her lower stomach as she looked at the old digital alarm clock on the bedside table.

“It’s 7:23,” she told him, her voice still breathy as she realized it was already light out.

“What time did we get in?” Luke asked in confusions staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, 11:48?” she approximated.

“Shit,” he breathed, thinking hard. “Did we just fuck for seven hours?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I think so.”

Luke had forgotten that he was a demigod.

-

Chapter Ten

[vagabond-umlaut]

⁙ tv taught me how to feel; now real life has no appeal

jjk boys and men as k-drama boyfriend archetypes, ft. yuuji, suguru, megumi, kento, satoru and sukuna.

▸ seperate character x gn! reader headcanons and/or scenarios; 4.3k wc; use of gn! nicknames; fluff [the tooth-rotting, butterfly-inducing kind]; implied smut in case of suguru & sukuna; implied war in case of satoru.

▸ my shoulders are hurting from typing for so long, ow, ow, ow!!!! got the inspiration for this from so many posts floating on my dash and 'for you' page; though i'm pretty sure this kind of post has never been done before. ▸ also, the author [blehhh, that's me!] knows very little to almost nothing on the k-dramas quoted in the link used for reference [this], apart from what info's on the wiki page. so this piece of writing might bear similarities to the original k-drama plot; it might bear differences to it. please don't be mad or upset with me! 🥰 ▸ anyways, the title's from the song 'oh no!' by marina. neither the characters nor the image nor the divider used are mine. [the divider is by @benkeibear.] please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

itadori yuuji as 'the above-average country guy'

[c'mon, are you really surprised?]

the day you leave the city life for the tiny town your grandpa lives in, because your mom loses her job, you think that's exactly when everything good in your life reaches its end.

the school is far and you've got to walk to it; the students are weird and kind of old-fashioned; the town is sooo boring... ugh.

or was, before you meet the grandson of one of your grandpa's old friends. itadori yuuji - or yuuji-kun, as the boy insists you call him.

studying in the same year as you, your new friend acquaintance is nothing less than an angel, a pure beam of sunshine.

from greeting everyone - even you, the titled snob of the school - with a grin so wide, it dimples his cheeks;

to assisting those needing help - be it getting your cat off the tree or sharing the pretty heavy load of notebooks you are originally tasked to carry back to the class [while ignoring your protests the entire duration];

to accompanying you to the school and back home after one off-handed remark of yours of you missing travelling with your friends...

you're more than a little surprised, why's the supposed golden boy of the town being kind and friendly with a grump like you?

however... what's more surprising than his cordial manner with you is... as you spend more time in his company, you find the way you perceive the world changing, bit by bit.

the walk to school is no longer strenuous and dreaded, thanks to yuuji's constant chatter and not-so-funny-as-silly jokes.

your classmates too seem to be more open and welcoming of you, and you find yourself smiling more and more with them and slowly getting involved in many of their shenanigans. [gosh! who the hell ever said village people are boring? they're so freaking fun!]

and guess what? even the town slowly grows brighter in your eyes.

thanks to your best friend [yes, now you accept him as so] showing you so many 'awesome' places in the town!!

the ice cream shop which supposedly sells the best ice cream in the world [the claim isn't really wrong, you guess];

the scariest haunted mansion on the far end of the town [it isn't scary; but you don't tell him that. you act scared just so yuuji'll hold your hand throughout the tour];

the tallest tree in the woods nearby, perched on a branch of which, you can get a clear view of your idyllic little town below and of the tiny twinkling stars above [you fall in love with the spot the second you experience the sheer beauty of the sights from it].

[you reckon, your feelings for your companion too solidify into 'something more' the second you tear your eyes away from the visual feast before, to the boy beside, only to find his gaze not on the scenery but on you, a soft smile in place of his usual boisterous grin — yet you don't say anything.]

[not 'cause you feel insecure or worried, he might not return your affection; but 'cause you realize yuuji does. the look on his face tells you enough... that, and the way he silently asks for permission, shy gaze darting between your eyes and lips – a permission you're all too eager to grant with a nod and a meek smile of your own.]

geto suguru as 'the k-pop star'

attractiveness = 100. singing skills = 100. attitude = 0.

[or, maybe, 10. the group's visual - wtf is his name? oh, yes, sukuna. that guy's getting get a solid zero in this.] [anyways–]

the first time you meet geto is when you're accompanying your elder brother, satoru to the auditions.

you're simply standing there, trying to cheer your brother up before his number is called [he might appear to be unafraid but you know your nii-chan better than that], when a smooth voice interrupts you followed by a sharp angular face appearing with even sharper eyes, glancing at you for a beat before falling on satoru.

that's the first time you meet him and that's the last time you view him in a light which isn't tinted with hatred.

you reckon it begins the evening of the party celebrating satoru's selection into the band. [it isn't a big matter; kind of small, in fact, given it's just you, your brother, your best friend shoko and satoru's new teammates - bubbly haibara, serious nanami, irritating sukuna and fucking bastard geto.]

to be more precise, it begins the moment satoru dozes off after his fifth glass of beer [you wonder, how, being your brother, he is such a lightweight] and sukuna, sensing the sliver of opportunity, starts flirting with you — a situation, annoying, yes, but one you're more than capable of handling — if only not for that long-haired bastard 'new best friend' of your brother.

the said asshole strolls in with a condenscending smirk, saying how one must never go for someone like you, so plain and boring.

now, generally, you don't let other's opinions of you get to yourself, but when it's from a guy you might've got a mild crush on... it's so infuriating, you can really feel your blood boiling within your veins.

and to your greatest chagrin, you find your blood boiling so many more times in the future, you think it's a miracle you haven't turned into a pressure cooker yet.

from an informal get-together to a launch party to an award show, geto never fails to get under your skin. sometimes, it's a concealed smirk; sometimes, a fleeting touch; sometimes, a lilting whisper - and you're left, fuming and flustered.

yet, just like everything good and bad, this hatred of yours towards the leader of your brother's band too reaches an end — yet not the way you might have expected it to be – with an apology [certainly not by you, but to you] and a clinking of two wine glasses.

it reaches an end with the two of you in a dimly-lit corridor, away from the crowd of the party, your hands grabbing on geto's coat lapels for dear life while his hands roam over your back, leaving a scorching feeling in their wake.

a thought rushes to the forefront of your mind and you break the kiss, panting. geto's brows furrow a tad from behind his mussed up hair; silencing the voice calling him cute, you ask, "so what's next? hate sex?"

a bright blush floods into his cheeks, you observe, as he opens his mouth to answer, then falters. "hate sex?" he gapes at you, "why on earth would it be hate sex?"

"'cause you and i hate each other...?" the answer leaves you, less as a statement and more as a question; you watch geto take a second to let it sink in before a chuckle erupts from him. "oh, sweetheart," he croons, placing a warm palm on your cheek, "i don't hate you. i never have. what made you-"

"you once told sukuna i'm plain and boring, and that no one should date me," you cut him off, feeling irritated again. [what the hell? is he gaslighting you??]

a short beat passes, wherein you glare up at him while he simply peers down at you, before a contrite smile flits onto his lips. voice dropping to a mere whisper, he says, "i'm sorry i made you feel that way, but i swear, that wasn't my intention. i was simply lying to get sukuna off your back. i was scared he might get you to fall in love with him, before i ever got a chance. i'm so very sorry."

this time, a long beat passes and ultimately, a loud whoosh of air leaves you.

you don't know whether it's the glimmer of sincerity in his feline eyes or your feelings for him which you've filed away for so long, which prompts you; whatever it is, you find yourself saying, "hmph, okay. that's stupid in a twisted way, but still, okay. however..."

you narrow your eyes at him.

geto blinks back at you, attentive and patient.

you let the anger melt away a bit from your expression. "don't expect me to forgive you after a couple of sorry's. i need a lot more than them to forgive you entirely."

"and a lot more, i promise to give you, oh divine being from above," geto responds with a cheeky smile and a kiss to your knuckles, "starting with some real nice loving tonight."

you beam back at him - not upset but kind of happy, for the very first time in your life, with the flutters in your chest elicited by that your smooth bastard.

fushiguro megumi as 'the supportive co-worker'

[you might've seen a grumpy x sunshine couple; but have you ever seen a grumpy-and-sunshine person? no?? well, continue reading!]

first impression: rude.

the only response the boy gives you, when you greet your cute new co-worker at the coffee shop you just joined, is a nod. no name, no 'welcome', not even a single 'hi'. just. a. small. nod. [huh?]

second impression: quiet.

you strike out your 1st impression of fushiguro megumi [thank god, name tags exist; anyways-] with your 2nd impression of him.

a week or two after you join, yuuta and maki call you into the break room after your shift ends and ask if you can decorate the room, since it's toge's birthday today. they explain they want to help you, but with the sudden rush of the customers, it's nearly impossible to leave the counter.

being the polite person you're, you obviously say yes, without even considering for a beat, just how much you might have to decorate.

and this is where you form your second impression of megumi.

ten minutes might have passed since you started working, before the boy strolls into the room, the ever-present frown on his face, gives the room one long look and joins in decorating, wordlessly.

you're astonished, to say the least; yet you don't breathe a word in return.

some help is better than no help, and if we're being honest here, you're more than a bit pissed at the boy.

thus, this is the way the two of you continue working, silently, and before long, you find your work done, the room prettily decorated.

a smile on your face, you twist – to find megumi hurrying out the room, soon followed by your other two co-workers entering it, confusion etched on their faces.

"megumi didn't leave for his baseball practice yet?" yuuta inquires, gaze darting from the door to you. your brows furrow. "baseball?"

"yeah," maki hums, "the kid's got some important match tomorrow morning, because of which we did not even consider asking him for help. plus, with how reluctant he always is in these matters..."

"the boy always makes an excuse to worm his way out of these parties and stuff," finsihing for her with a chuckle, yuuta throws you a curious look. "did you ask him for help?"

"nope!" comes the instant reply from you. the two colleagues share a knowing smile between them, you observe - however, before you get a second to process it, both of them sling an arm around your shoulders and thanking you for your efforts, drag you to the front of the now-empty coffee shop, where you see nobara and yuuji enter, carrying a large rectangular box.

a call of your name breaks your focus on the bickering duo and you turn to find yuuta smiling down at you. "megumi is actually a sweet boy, deep inside. give him a chance, please."

"more like a sweet coward," maki pipes in from the other side with a grin, "but, yeah, giving him a chance won't hurt you."

at that point of time, you wonder why the fuck your two seniors are blabbering this nonsense to you — yet now...

after weeks during which you silently watch the boy open up to you, first with a smile to you greeting him [you initially don't want to talk to him, but something the other two said leaves a mark and you find yourself treating him the same way you treat others]...

... which slowly grows into a smile and a question on your day, which grows into a smile, a question and lessons for the bumbling newbie you, on the ins-and-outs of working in a café, often paired with a pretty long, refreshing conversation...

... which slowly but steadily furthers beyond the confines of the coffee shop and your shared working hours...

..into now, the present moment, where you find megumi dressed to a tee, a shy smile on his lips and a lovely bouquet of roses in his hands, waiting to take you out on your first date—

yeah, now you realize why they were 'blabbering' to you that day, something you'll always be thankful to yuuta and maki for.

nanami kento as 'the hardworking entrepreneur'

your ken-chan has always been the best in your eyes.

the best in studies, the best in sports, the best neighbour, the best friend to you – one you're desperate to stay in touch with when you shift abroad for your higher studies.

time, however, is unforgiving and despite your wish, the weekly-thrice phone calls and emails dwindle down to weekly-once, then monthly-once, then to customary e-mails on special occasions like birthdays.

so, imagine your surprise [and joy, obviously] when one morning - a good eight years since you left for the states and a good month since you returned home - you open your laptop to find an e-mail from a nanami kento waiting in your inbox, the subject being 'let's meet up? :)'.

meet him, you do – except for the fact your ken-chan is no longer your ken-chan, yet is so much your ken-chan. [confusing, isn't it? you too feel really confused on meeting him after ages.]

the cute boy you knew has grown into a fine man - more than fine, if you're speaking the truth, given the way his facial features are sharper, shoulders broader, voice deeper – but with the same old personality as in high school.

frowning, solemn, no-nonsense – just, this time, your friend isn't discussing the science project but an idea to start a new company.

with him. the two of you. right from scratch.

you reckon you've never said 'yes' faster in your life!

and how can you not actually?

your ken-chan's genius has always awed you... and now that you're getting an opportunity to view it in all its glory, again, after so many years - how on earth can you not agree in an instant?

within a pretty short time [wow, efficient!], your company is set up and good to go; and you begin to witness a... not-really-new but... let's say, a better side of your friend.

kento has always been extremely sincere and hard-working since your school days together; yet now, as you watch him do overtime, day after day after day – inspite of his claimed vehement hatred for it – you realize the intensity of his dedication towards his work.

then, add to that, his communication skills.

utterly flawless.

you've worked with many amazing companies before and you're being unbiased here [no joke] but this man's got some insane skills in communication.

be it securing a deal with the clients or addressing a problem with the employees, there's nothing kento can't handle in perfect poise.

however, what steals the show for you, is neither of these but your ken-chan's golden heart.

the company goes through more than its fair share of troubles – yet, you don't see him, not even once, compromise with any ideals or ethics of his. be it with the clients, or with the employees, or with you - his company's co-founder whom he agrees to give a respectable exit, with a decent pay, when the company is passing a particularly rough patch – he never deviates an inch from his moral code.

needless to say, you deny his request firmly in an instant.

a decision you know you'll always be proud of – not for the fact the company is now one of the largest in the country and making huge profits regularly; it was a given the company will be successful with kento at it's head [the man says you deserve the equal amount of credit as him, but being who you are, you're wont to shush him; anyways-]

– but because you will never have forgiven yourself for abandoning an angel-like person like him in his time of need; something you deem kento never deserves after years of being a wonderful friend to you.

though... now, as you watch him approach you with a tiny smile and two bags of take-out for a late dinner [meetings, ugh]... you can't help but hope he'll become a friend plus someone else to you in the future...

'cause, after all, your ken-chan has always been the best in your eyes.

the best in studies, the best in sports, the best neighbour, the best friend, the best colleague - and the best person ever, you know you can entrust your heart to.

gojo satoru as 'the brave soldier'

[*sigh* where should i even begin...]

the first meeting the two of you have is less than ideal.

it's less of a meeting and more of a crash, to be honest — and i ain't even being metaphorical here.

you're on your morning jog for the day, smiling and listening to the song you're currently obsessed with, when out of thin air, a bicycle appears and comes careening down the slope you're at the base of, right into you — not giving you the time to react, or at the very least, process what the fuck just happened.

the deities above must have been pleased with you that day, you guess, 'cause you're discharged from the hospital with merely a wrist sprain and a few scratches on your arms and legs.

though... you reckon they must have been harbouring a grudge on you too... for if they aren't, why is the cause behind your injury such an annoying, obstinate, dumb manchild, hm?

a sigh leaves you, the umpteenth time in the last hour, as you limp back to your home. the whining from the broken bicycle beside you doesn't stop one bit.

"c'mon, sweetheart-" "don't call me that-" "fine, c'mon, babe-" "ew, don't call me that either-" "ooh, playing hard to get, are-" "fuck off!"

reaching an abrupt stop, you whirl on your feet, face contorted in a furious scowl. the stranger takes a step back from you, shrinking; you know you must school your features a bit, this is a public place for heaven's sake—

utterly uncaring, you begin, "listen, mister. i've been telling you for a good half an hour, from the hospital till now, that i don't wanna go on an apology date with you. it was an accident for fuck's sake," your voice grows louder with wilder hand gestures.

the man keeps staring at you in response, rooted to the spot. you don't even stop to breathe, "just say sorry for it and get on with your goddamn life. why the hell you ain't leaving me alone, man? don't you understand the meaning of 'no'? single word – n, o?"

a long beat passes in silence after your tirade, post which the man recedes, shrugging, with a mumbled apology and nothing more, leaving you confused and a little contrite(??).

whatever!

with time and tide and the woes and worries of your daily life, that odd little encounter slips to the back of your mind before it resurfaces, two years later, while you're posted in a foreign country.

"sweetheart!" the endearment rings through the military camp. the cameraman beside you stifles a shocked gasp; sharing a confused look with him, you send your interviewee a small smile before turning your gaze in search of the source of the noise.

the same white-haired goggles-wearing man from long before rushes tumbling down the dirt track, you watch, appalled, bringing unpleasant flashbacks to your mind, then stops, a good distance from you.

brows a tad pinched, you see him brush his bangs away from his forehead and open his mouth to speak; but another person beats him to it. you twist back to face your interviewee.

geto gives you a harmless grin. "aha! so you're the mystery person gojo here fell in love with, huh?" a series of indignant sputters and coughs sound from behind you, accompanied by giggles from next to you. you seriously consider elbowing yuuji.

the black-haired man, meanwhile, continues with a request, "hey, can you please rethink your decision of not wanting go on a date with him? please- it's just one date," he adds in a hurry when you open your mouth with a glare, his grin falling to a helpless look. you close your mouth, willing your glare to go away and return a neutral expression.

"satoru's my best friend and brother-in-arms but at times, at night especially, when he starts lamenting over how he scared you off... y'know, at those times, i just wanna kill him, frankly speaking," the man pleads guilty.

a sigh escapes you as you cast a glance at gojo, noting the poorly hidden apprehension in his eyes. yet another sigh escapes you-

"of course," yuuji's energetic voice pipes in.

you stamp his foot pretty hard; that idiot, undeterred, proceeds to rattle, "this person here too wouldn't shut up after that incident. on how one should be more polite, more considerate, more tolerant, more forgiving. even going as far as to say that one date would've been fine; it was just a date that, that poor man asked for— isn't it so?"

"really?" gojo's voice wafts over to your ears; you squeeze your eyes shut and open them, cheeks feeling awfully warm.

"yes," you grit out, pinning your alleged admirer down with a glare, which softens when you catch the spark of happiness in his eyes. you decide to relent.

"if the two of us survive this, let's go to that patisserie you were speaking of that day. how does this sound to you?"

said man rewards you a dazzling beam with a thumbs-up. "sounds like the perfect way to waltz into my heart, sweetness."

ryomen sukuna as 'the cold chaebol'

[c'mon, are you really surprised?]

utterly cold, utterly ruthless, utterly a monster – is what one might- nope! one 'will' call sukuna.

and they aren't really wrong, you muse as you watch the man in question talk business with two executives from another company, the latter looking one step away from fainting.

you muffle your expression beneath the guise of a cough, earning you two startled looks and a frown. a polite smile flits onto your lips as a soft apology leaves them, and you return to your silence–

which lasts till the second you step out of the room, accompanying the pair of men and one of them turns to you, sheer terror in his eyes.

"take this," he mumbles, pressing something into your palm; you look down to find it's a business card. forehead creasing into lines, you look back up at him.

the other man sighs. "listen, kid, that man sukuna ain't good news. before anything wrong happens, just quit this job and come to our company. we'll pay you well... okay, maybe not as well as they pay you here, but at the very least, an axe won't be hanging over your neck every minute of your working hours there."

you blink, then press the button to the elevator.

gratitude floods your expression. "thank you. i'll keep your words in mind," you say, bidding them goodbye.

the men give you a smile, then with one last petrified look at the closed doors of the ceo's room, file into the elevator and shut it in an instant, too scared to spend even a millisecond more here than what's required of them.

your secretarial smile burns away into a majestic scowl.

"again?"

you click your tongue, closing the doors you opened behind you and go and plop on the sofa. a sigh sounds from next to you, soon followed by the weight of a heavy head on your shoulder. "what do we do?"

"you're the boss here. you tell me."

sukuna makes a noise of disapproval in his throat before nestling a little closer to you. you open your arms a bit, oddly reminded of an overgrown kitten, then bite back your words. the teasing can be for later.

an annoyed grunt reaches you in response. "as the boss, i'm asking you. c'mon, tell me. what do we do?"

the answer arrives from your end within a fraction of an instant.

"we cut our ties with them, obviously," you say. "anyone who can be so insolent as to think they can steal me away from you can do just almost anything. too bold for my liking," you tsk.

"oh, you don't like someone bold, kitten?" a crimson eye opens at you, mischief shining in its depths. your nose wrinkles in distaste.

you shove him away. "firstly- ew, never call me kitten; secondly- careful, mr. ceo or people might think we're fucking."

a deep chuckle with an 'okay' are the only response sukuna gives you as he drags you close to himself and you let him; letting your thoughts too to drown you in them.

yeah, sukuna is the utterly cold, utterly ruthless, utterly monstrous person everyone makes him to be.

yet, what they overlook is that the man's got a leash, one held by the demure personal assistant always at his side–

the assistant being none other than 'you'.

the fearsome businessman's other half in every sense of the term except the fact the two of you have never shared a bed.

[though... you think... if you decide to listen to uraume's advice to get your shit together and make a move on their master – one whose gaze, you note, has been fixed on your lips for a duration too long now to be decent – you reckon the unfulfilled criterion will be fulfilled way before tomorrow.]

▸ masterlist

▸ taglist: @afortoru, @guccirosegold, @heresan, @luckimoon, @megu-meow, @nanamikentoseyebags, @pupkashi, @ritsatoru, @softsatoru, @sweetdreamssatoru, @nkogneatho, @sugies, @poe-daydreams, @sukustar. :))

[cryptidcasanova]

Skull Rock Reckoning

Demon!Eddie Munson x Reader

Ohmygoodness. Like, holy shit, I got the coolest Hellfire Haunts request in my asks. I had it all ready to go, was going to save it in my drafts, and then it never did save. Poof. It’s just gone, not in asks or drafts, so I am so sorry if I am losing you in the tumblr mess!

It was a request for Demon!Eddie, using prompt #1 (I’ve waited lifetimes for you.) It was so so sooooo good, I just had to write it!

Summary: Imagine if Jason Carver and his buddies tricked the reader into going up to skull rock, and instead it was really a sacrifice ploy. They were trying to sacrifice them to summon a demon (Eddie) who is less than thrilled, but it turned out to be a soulmate encounter.  

So! If this was your ask, please let me know, and I’m sorry I lost it in the mix!

Warnings: Dark!Soulmate AU, Yandere, Soft!Dark Eddie, Violence, Blood, Dubious themes.

Words: 3k

Jason Carver was the golden boy of Hawkins High, and even after he graduated, his name still carried the same authority.

Sure, you had seen him around. You remembered the way he laughed around his friends and how his eyes would linger when he thought you weren't looking when you two were in school. You knew of his popularity and affinity for the cheer squad. So yes, you knew of Jason Carver.

You just never expected to hear him call your name while you were cruising down the grocery store aisles.

The sound of it was strong, and you turned to see him walking down the aisle with a shopping basket in his hands. You stopped with a slight wave. The smile he gave you was jolting.

"Hey," He grinned. "Have you ever been up to Skull Rock?" He asked, leaning against the wall of canned food.

He had never initiated a conversation with you before, but then again, neither had you. You two ran different circles growing up.

"I can't say I have." You told him with a lazy grin, moving down the aisle to pick up a jar of peanut butter. He watched with mild fascination.

"We're throwing a little party up there for Halloween. Tomorrow night. Spooky things go on up there," Jason continued, and you walked alongside him.

You turned your head back to his, catching his stare. "You know, they say it was a place for satanic worship." He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"It sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus."

He scoffed lightly, putting a hand over his chest.

"It's the best place to be. There are no cops, and there will be drinks and music. It'll be a lot of fun." He said. "And I wanted to see if you'll come this year." He gave you a serious look.

You had never been invited by Jason Carver to a party before.

Even when Steve used to throw parties, that was different. You knew Steve, had mutual friends with him. Jason was hardly an acquaintance.

"I don't know," You thought about it, weighing the pros and cons.

"Give it a chance," He smiled again. "Give me a chance. I can pick you up and everything."

You gave him a once over.

Jason wasn't a regular on your radar, but you did notice him. It was hard not to with his popularity and good-boy persona. And you didn't have any plans.

"Oh, what the hell," You nodded with a grin. His dashing expression was blinding. "I'll bring beer."

You should have known it was too good to be true.

Jason had his own agenda all along. You couldn't have known that it was a trap, that you were just another checkmark on his list.

You couldn't have known even when he picked you up in his truck the next day. He was a gentleman, complimenting your little black dress and bat earrings. You got all dolled up for Halloween. He even offered to help you bring your beer bottles to his truck.

For a fleeting moment, you were excited.

But as soon as you opened the truck door, his old basketball buddies jumped out. You were in too deep. You knew something was terribly wrong.

They dragged you into the backseat, covering your mouth and holding you down. The fight was laughable. There were four of them, covering your mouth with duct tape and surrounding you in the truck. They were terrible.

Your wrists and the crook of your elbows were taped. Above your knees and down by your ankles were taped. It was a little more than overkill.

And then, you were trapped between two of them in the backseat while Jason drove, one of his cronies messing with the music.

You couldn't fight off the roll of nausea in your stomach as one of them wafted something under your nose. Was it sage? Weed? It was disorienting, and you couldn't get away.

"Let's go catch us a monster, boys." Jason grinned, looking in the rearview mirror with wild eyes. "This is the year; I can feel it."

There was something deceptively charming in those eyes, something much darker than you thought Jason Carver could be capable of.

There was no Halloween party at Skull Rock.

You tried to fight against the hazy feeling in your head, even as Jason's silhouette in the front seat got blurry and you slumped against the backseat.

He was the monster.

The night was quiet when Jason and his goons finally dragged you out of the truck and into the woods. You had no clear sense of direction. You felt stoned, your legs swaying lightly as he carried you over his shoulder.

The terrain was rugged, and you could feel stray branches and pine needles hitting the back of your legs.

Your vision was blurry, even as they finally broke through the trees to a small clearing. The trees dispersed, and as you were turned around, Skull Rock was the least of your problems.

In front of Skull Rock, Jason and his friends had drawn a symbol on the floor around you. A pentagram, for fucks sake. It was surrounded by a ring of salt, and you looked at your captor like he was bat-shit insane.

“What’s the matter?” He cooed, crouching down in front of you. “We did this all for you. I said it’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Two images of Carver swayed in front of your eyes, and you groaned out a complaint as he tugged you forward to the middle of the circle. Your knees dug into the cold ground, and you tightened your arms, trying to fight against him.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He tormented, pulling a dark robe over his shoulders. “We can’t do it without you. There’s never been anyone in the god-forsaken town quite like you. No one is good enough. No one pure enough.”

Your stomach was in knots.

Around the outside of the circle, you could see the others lighting candles and setting down bowls of spices, crystals, and coins around the star tips of the pentagram. You thought your heart was going to beat outside of your chest.

“There’s just one more thing.” Jason tugged at your hands, and you looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t look so scared, babe. You are the prettiest sacrifice we’ve had.”

You hardly had time to notice the pocketknife he procured before it was too late. He was tugging your hands, laying them palms up into the air before slicing across your skin. Your eyes went wide in horror, and you went to scream but couldn't.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes blurry with the threat of tears.

The next thing you knew, Jason pushed down to the forest floor, straight in the middle of the circle. And as your bloodied palms touched the ground, the men began to chant.

There was a pit of anguish in your stomach.

The candles wavered, and as Jason and his goons chanted, you could have sworn that a thick fog filled the area.

You pushed yourself up to your knees. A wild wind blew through the clearing, and the smell of iron filled your lungs.

You were going to die there.

The chanting waned and wavered until the words were booming in your head. You could feel every unintelligible syllable in the crevices of your heart. It was a seizing, aching feeling. You felt like it would pull you in different directions until you realized the candles blazed with a burning hellfire. You could feel the heat against your skin.

Something was happening.

A figure slowly emerged out of the fog, sprouting from the ground in front of you. Tall and humanoid, you fought back the cry clawing up your throat. You couldn’t see anything except for the outline of two fiery eyes. It was clear to see they were angry. You needed to get out of there.

It was a man stepping out of the fog. The candlelight illuminated the shadows of his body. He was bare, save for several tattoos scattered across his skin, and his hair was a wild halo of dark locks that cascaded around his shoulders. As the figure came into view, you had to shake your head to ensure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

He was captivating.

Glowing eyes and a rounded nose looked down at the circle, his expression void of pleasantries.

"Abaddon, mischief maker, we summon you to the land of the living,” Jason’s voice boomed across the circle.

Even behind the ridiculous cloak, you could sense Jason’s confidence wane.

He got what he wanted, didn’t he?

The man, that thing, you thought, tilted his head to the side with a scowl. You almost thought you saw sharp canines poking into his bottom lip.

“We summon you with the blood of the innocent. That's what we brought you.” Jason called out with a snicker. “Hell, she might even be a virgin.”

Your head snapped from the figure to the cloaks, bile souring your tongue. You resented them, all of them.

The figure stepped forward, the dark fog swirling around his feet.

"You will do our bidding," Jason spoke bravely now. "We've called upon you, and you will obey my wishes-" But Jason's words faded as the creature reached its full height.

"No."

The lone syllable made your hair stand on end. You looked up at the man, what you so desperately tried to make out as a man, but it was fruitless. His movements were too smooth, calculated like a predator.

The heated embers of his eyes were harrowing, annoyance dancing across his features. Two short horns were poking out from under the mess of curls.

The creature stalked forward in the circle, and Jason took a step back, but you couldn't move. You couldn't breathe.

"I was not summoned here for you. I don’t serve you."

His expression shifted as he towered over you. The beast of a man crouched down to your eye level. It took everything in you not to scream or lash out. But you were terrified.

He was deceptively handsome, and the shadows of his face were illuminated in the candlelight.

His eyes, blazing with hellfire, changed, just for a moment. If you blinked, you would have missed it, but you could have sworn those dark eyes were brown. That they were almost human. But it was gone in a flash. The weight of the situation you were in was harrowing.

"You're not supposed to be here."

The low rumble of his words was unexpected, and you looked up at him in shock. His words were gentle, his tone leveled.

His eyes narrowed, burning with something angry as he looked down at your palms. You were clutching them both to your chest. The dark cloth of your dress and exposed skin bloomed red.

You were trembling.

He reached out slowly, tugging your hands away from your body before looking at the slashes welling with blood. You were too frightened to move as his eyes swept back to yours.

"They hurt you."

With his other hand, s sharp claw cut the bindings on your arms and legs. It was like he was cutting through butter instead of layers of tape. You watched in amazement as he pulled the tape back from your lips. The shuddering breath you took didn’t deter him.

The man's focus returned to your bloody palms, cupping his hands under yours like a bowl. His hands were warm, his touch slowly dissolving the tension in your shoulders.

"They tricked me," You whispered blindly.

Your focus shifted, fixated on the feeling of his warm hands in yours. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You watched as your blood bled between your fingers onto his and down to the ground. A low sound at the back of the creature’s throat pulled your eyes back to his.

It was frustrating. If you thought about it for a moment longer, you would have realized the sound of it was needy, longing even.

“What the hell is going on?” You heard Jason curse from outside the circle, making you wince.

The creature looked at you, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, sweetheart," His voice was tender, apologetic. Clawed fingers trailed up and over the side of your face. His eyes danced across yours.

You could have sworn you were in a trance.

For a moment, the pentagram and the men outside the circle disappeared. You let all thoughts fade away, looking at the man in front of you. And you just looked at him, scanning the curve of his eyebrows down to the cupid's bow of his lips. He was so stunningly familiar. God, he was beautiful.

"Close your eyes." He instructed, and at your hesitance, he leaned in. His clawed hand cradled your chin, and you watched his eyes soften for the second time, umber pools staring back at you. He smelled of earth and iron. “I will not forsake you.”

His tone was your undoing.

With another long moment of looking at him, you followed his instructions and closed your eyes. He hummed in approval as you felt his touch fall away.

There was a sudden crack, like lightning, in the air. You could smell metal, the heat of it fanning your face. But you kept your eyes closed.

You were steadfast even when the sound of shocked screams and pleas came from Jason and his band of goons. And then there was a thunderous noise of thousands of wings flapping around. A low-clicking noise surrounded you. Bats were swarming the skies. The sounds of carnage tore at your senses. Your lip quivered before you could control yourself.

And all too soon, it was quiet.

Fear gripped your heart, and you were compelled to call out.

“Ad – Abm –” You started but stumbled. You didn’t remember his name. There was a gentle sound of footsteps crunching on leaves before you heard him come back to you.

“I’m right here,” His voice was darker but still controlled. “Don’t call me that name, angel.”

You opened your eyes at the endearment. What was staring back at you was almost human.

You were right. His eyes were brown with the slightest glow, and Jason was gone as you looked around the circle. They were all gone. And his attention was solely on you.

“Your blood,” He urged, pulling your attention back to your hands. “Sweetheart, we need to stop the bleeding.”

You nodded blindly. God, when did your hands start shaking?

He took your left hand and turned it over, dragging his thumb along the incision.

The wound closed before your eyes, leaving behind a raised, thin scar. You let out a breath of relief. Rivulets of your blood stained his hands, but he didn’t care.

The man hesitated when he dropped your hand and moved to the other. You looked up at him carefully.

“You called for me,” His words were heavy, and the air around you was charged with electricity. When you looked up at him, his face was set with the hint of a smile. "I've waited lifetimes for you."

Your heart was hammering in your chest.

You tried to stutter out an apology, that it was all a big mistake, but the shake of his head silenced you. His intentions were set.

"You bled for me," He raised his other hand and sliced into his own palm with a clawed index finger. "And I will bleed for you.”

Thick, dark ichor pooled against his skin. It wasn't natural. You closed your fist instinctively.  

"But, why?" You dared to ask. "Why would you do that?"

The look he gave you turned into a boyish grin.

"Because you called for me. I'm bound to you," His eyes were tormenting. "You didn't think I'd go away so easily, did you? If you don't like the sun, I'll make it rain for you. I'll fix all your broken things. I'll keep you nice and close. I'll keep you safe. Don't send me away, angel."

The lilt of his voice was hypnotic.

You weren't sure you could turn him away. You didn't know if you even wanted to. He saved you.

As you listened, your heart ached. You wanted that. You wanted to believe him.

"I'm already bound." He tried again, inching closer.

His plea was so soft, so tender. At the call of your name, your breath hitched, looking up at those big brown eyes. He was looking down at you expectantly.

"Take my hand. Don't make me beg."

He was down on his knees in front of you, his face shrouded in shadows and candlelight. He wasn't the monster you thought him to be.

"Who are you?" You asked in a whisper.

You pushed yourself up to your knees, meeting his eye level.

"Just call me Eddie, sweetheart." He grinned, holding his palm up to you. "Please, take my hand. And I'll explain everything."

You weren't sure if it was the compelling look in his eyes or the softness of his words, but how could you say no?

He saved you. Eddie saved you from the monsters in the woods.

You took his hand without looking away from his eyes, feeling the heat and strength in his hold. You swore you could feel the inky ichor as it mixed with your blood into the cut.

And the way Eddie's eyes lit up? It was like you had hung all the stars in the sky.

But it was too much. The heat in your veins was all-encompassing. You could feel the nerves in your body going haywire.

Eddie’s toothy grin was the last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut. He pulled you close before you could fall, sinking into his embrace.

There was a new excitement in his eyes. The candlelight flickered, more intense than it had ever been before.

He was already bound to you. But what he didn't tell you was that you were willingly binding yourself to him. Eddie wasn't worried; he'd have forever to find a way to tell you.

Back to Hellfire Haunts.

[sundixled]

"I predict the wanderers' are going to start a riot soon."

[letshavedeernnertogether]

Sleepyhead, part two

the plot is: you have nightmares and can't sleep because of it, luckly alastor knows how to help you.

here is the part one

tw: none, just keep on being cute and sweet

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You were lying in bed on your back pulling the blanket right up to your chin. Your eyes were wide open, and you gazed into the darkness. The living shadows swirled around your room. They were the uncontrolled tentacles made of darkness, that haunted you every night.

Every time you went to bed and turned off the light, the moment when you almost fell asleep, the dark figures came out and tried to catch you. You opened your eyes, followed their stirs and couldn't move. You perspired profusely, you hardly breathed, and you felt like your own body floated above the bed, as if your spirit left your shell.

The most frightening thing was the feeling, that they were real. They were not a dream. It seemed so to you, because you never noticed, when you fell asleep and began to dream, and also you didn’t notice, when you woke up. Morning came, and the eerie shadows receded, and only then you could fall asleep. But every night they returned again.

These tentacles never touched you, but you were afraid to leave your bed, thinking that it was the only refuge. You knew that if they grabbed you, they wouldn’t let you go, they would strangle you, and you'd become a shadow like them. They were hungry and hated those who could live in the light of day.

Light?

You were lying in bed sweating with fear. The blanket pressed on you like the sky on the shoulders of Atlas, and the time seemed stopped. It seemed the morning would never come. Morning...

Suddenly you thought about the light. These dark creatures never came during daylight hours. They were probably afraid of the light.

A lamp stood on your bedside-table, but it was too far to reach. And you didn't want to make any moves to not get the figures dander up. But if you make a sudden harsh move... If you suddenly jump out of bed, get to the door, jerk it open, then a light must pour out from the corridor, which had never been extinguished there.

Taking a deep breath and mustering your courage up, you jumped out of bed, ran between the tentacles, that almost grabbed your ankles several times, and ran out into the hallway, slamming the door behind you.

You screamed out, when you pressed your back against the door and felt a push. They wanted to get to you. Were you still awake?

You dashed for the main hall, away from your room.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When you were downstairs in the dim lit lobby, you heard a slowly jazz music coming from the kitchen. You headed for the sound, expecting to see there the man, who once lulled you with his song. Getting closer, you smelled something savoury. Your mouth filled with saliva.

When you entered the kitchen, Alastor was standing in front of the gas stove and cooking something. He took off his froak coat and worn a light red apron. His cane was placed nearby, and the music was coming out from it with a drowsy buzzing. He was softly humming the melody.

Alastor heard some movings behind him, when you sat down on a chair next to the table. His eares twitched, and he turned his head back. He looked at you in surprise,

"It's strange to see you awaken at the dead of night, my dear. Why aren't you in bed?"

You looked down, "Nightmares," You muttered sadly.

Alastor looked at the rice in the frying pan, reduced the heat and looked at you again.

"Why my dear!" He exclaimed, "You always sleep so sweet, I never thought you could have bad dreams."

"It's only at night," You yawned and continued still looking at your knees, "When the night comes, and everything sinks in the darkness, these shadows creep out of somewhere, and I can't fall asleep because of the fear..."

You were so tired and exhausted with this night. Being here, in the warm kitchen, filled with appetizing smell, when a softly slow jazz swirled around you and Alastor, made you fell into a light doze.

"Hmm," Said Alastor, "You said nightmares, but described it like reality."

"Because I don't understand what it is!"

Alastor heard that your voice began to break, and you lifted your hand to wipe a tear running down your cheek.

"I know I'm not dreaming when I see them, and moreover, they pushed the door after I left. I'm wondering how I managed to escape..."

Tears were running down your face, but you didn't sob. Tears left silver traces on your skin, but in the lighting of the kitchen they seemed bronze. Alastor thought how beautiful you were even in your sadness. But he liked you more with a soft smile on your face, when you slept near him.

Alastor took off the apron and came to you. You didn't see it, you just felt how he gently touched your face. His thumb wiped the tear from the corner of your eye. You looked at him. He held your face in his hands. His soft gaze awakened something inside of you. You didn't want anything but to stare in his big glowing eyes.

You licked your lips and said sniffing,

"I think your dinner is burning."

He raised his eyebrows, his lips formed a silent "O", and he went up to the gas stove.

When he turned away from you, you wiped the rest of your tears glading that Alastor couldn't see your blush as your skin was totally black.

He added some broth in the pan and stired the dish. Breathing in the savoury smell and listening to the music, you thought, why couldn't you fall asleep. The problem wasn't in your bed, you slept there well during the day. The darkness or the night? Well, it seemed more like true. And you thought that your helplessness to the shadows were stupid. But then you remembered how the narrow tentacles wriggled under your feet trying to seize you, when you slammed the door shut. They were moving under the door, and it didn't seem like they were actually afraid of electric light.

You flinched remembering it. But then you remembered how you had a nice sleep at night in the hotel. It was your first night and the night a week ago.

You couldn't say what was special in your first night, after when Alastor had taken you to your bedroom, as it was dark and you were alone as always. you didn't know the truth.

But last week you spent the whole evening with Angel in his room. You were talking about your lives for several hours and ate a lot of unhealthy snacks watching your favorite romantic comedy from when you were alive. You both laughted at stupid decisions of characters, and you both were touched by the same romantic scenes.

Leaning against Angel's shoulder, breathing in his sweet vanilla smell, you fell asleep. You woke up embraced by all his four arms in his bed, just where you fell asleep. In the morning, when Angel woke up, he said that you were too sweet and too cute to be disturbed, so he didn't woke you up. But he didn't say, why he hadn't carried you to your bedroom, and you didn't ask him about it.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

The darkness and loneliness might had been the reasons of you being haunted by the living nightmares.

Alastor looked at you again. He thought that the nightmares were another curse of you. What an unfortunate darling you were. You told him about your life and how you avoided reality for all your life. And now you were cursed to never get enough sleep, and at night you were surrounded by your own fears and couldn't even close your eyes. Too much for a poor thing like you, thought Aalstor.

"I can't sleep in the dark and I can't sleep alone," You said. It seemed to you, that you had a good sleep then, because Angel was by your side. Maybe these shadows were powerless when you were not alone?

"Alone?" He asked tilting his head.

You nodded.

"Hmmm," Alastor looked up thinking on something. You noticed that he'd already covered the frying pan with a lid. Now his dinner was slowly braised.

"Well, my dear," He said coming up to you, "it's a shame that a sleepyhead like you can't have enough sleep during the night, so she must sleep all day long depriving me of the opportunity to spend time with her. This cannot go on."

He gave you his hand.

"But your dinner?"

"Don't worry, Starry eyes," He said bending in his waist still giving his hand, "I can absent myself for a time. I just want to offer you something, it won't take long."

You took his hand and stood up. He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies touched. Three upper buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and you blushed understanding that it was the first time you saw him being so informal.

"Hold on tighter, darling," He wispered in your ear, before you sank into the dark light.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You opened your eyes to find yourself in the unfamiliar room. You pressed yourself close to Alastor, his hands were on your shoulder-blade. The wind from the window chilled you, and you cuddled closer up to him. You turned your head to look around and understood, that it wasn't the wind from the window. It was the wind from the forest. The place, where Alastor took you, was half room and half the woods. You both were standing in the room in dark red colors with dark wood furniture, and the other side of the room was a night forest. You heard rustling, chirring, twittering coming from it. It was actually real.

"Welcome to my room, darling," Said Alastor letting you out.

So, it was his room. Before any other thought came on your mind, Alastor placed his arm on your waist and led you to a bed, that was in the center of the room.

"What? What are you doing?" You stopped and looked at him.

"My dear, this place is the safest in the whole hotel, and even in whole hell, if I may say. Here no one and nothing will hurt you. None of your eerie fears will find you here." He carefully placed his arm on your shoulder. His static voice made goosebumps ran down your back. He turned you back to him and pointed at the bed with his cane, "This room, this bed are your refuge. You don't need to be afraid here."

You looked at the bed. How cozy, how warmly, how alluringly it looked. You yawned. What was the use of refusing? After crying your eyes were tired, you wanted to close them and fall asleep. The bed seemed just perfect. The room was warm, and the chill of the forest helped you not to feel too much hot.

You glanced at Alastor. You didn't mind using his bed at all, but if he offered it to you, where would he spend the night then?

"And what about you?" You asked.

"Oh, darling," He softly smiled at you, "I'm the exact antithesis of you. While you always want to sleep, I have insomnia."

"Ohh," You pronounced. "Poor thing," You thought, "It might be difficult not to sleep, and not to see dreams."

You turned to the bed and then turned to Alastor again. He looked at you expectantly.

You slowly climbed into bed. Bed linen was soft and it smelled like... It smelled like Alastor. It was the same scent as when he had pulled you closer to him, before you both faded away in his shadow and turned out here.

You lay your head on the pillow and sank in its softness. But it wasn't too soft. It was just perfect. Like all his bed. Like all his room. A smile spread across your face.

You turned on your right side to look at Alastor and thank him. But you didn't have time to say anything, because he wrapped you in the blanket like a child. He tucked the blanket in, so you wouldn't get cold. When he leaned lower over you to tuck the blanket behind you, you tilted your head in the way so your lips "accidentally" met his chin. He froze still leaning over you.

You were lying between his hands, his face was in two inches of yours. He saw a sly yet shy smile on you. He smiled back, and your heart skipped a beat. You thought how beautiful he was. Maybe even too beautiful. You could drown in his crimson gleaming eyes, that hypnotized you.

Very slowly Alastor lifted his head to leave a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Goodnight, my love," He wispered.

You didn't open your eyes still feeling his lips on your forehead, and only when you heard a rustling, you opened your eyes and turned to the right. Alastor had just disappeared in the shadow.

Did he call you love?

You blushed so bright, that if there was anyone in the room, they would had seen the explosion of the supernovae on your cheeks.

It was just like in your best dreams.

You made yourself more comfortable still smiling because of the sudden tenderness of Alastor. You breathed in the smell of bed linen. It savoured with his astringent cologne, with fur and a little bit of smoke, because of the fireplace opposite the bed. You thought, this was what home smelled like.

You were lying with your eyes closed waiting for sleep to come. Firewood softly crackled, crickets chirred in the woods. Suddenly a radio on the piano turned on, and you heard a sweet female voice. The radio played quietly, and the singer's voice sank in static. You noticed that this buzzing of the radio was a comfortable sound for you, as it brought drowsiness to you.

♪ Night winds seem to have gone to rest,

Two eyes, brightly with love are gleaming ♪

You heard it through the somnolence and smiled.

The radio kept on playing quietly until you fell asleep in the room, that was yours now...

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor returned to the kitchen. His dinner was already done. He turned off the fire, mixed the dish and put some in a plate. The rest of the dish he put off in a basin and left it to cool, so that he could put it in the fridge later.

Usually Alastor didn't think about something secondary during a meal enjoying the food. But this time he couldn't help think about Sleepyhead. He remembered how she said, that she couldn't sleep alone. Could it be that all this time she was tormented by nightmares and did not sleep? Alastor remembered how he carried this tiny demon to her room at the first night. And how he stayed by her for all night long and watch her sleeping. She seemed had a very pleasant dream then. She always looked just as cute when she slept during the day, leaning on his shoulder.

Now he didn't even want to leave her alone in the bedroom. But he thought, that she might feel herself uncomfortable, if he stayed next to her and watched her until she fell asleep. Moreover he was extremely hungry. For the whole day he couldn't put something in his mouth, and now he was ravenous, so ravenous he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't suddenly eat her. After all she smelled very good.

Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprise, when his staff turned on the music. His hand with a fork froze on halfway to his mouth. From the staff a woman sang a lovely song. Alastor finished his dinner, rested his head on the hand and listened.

This singer was famous when Alastor was alive, but he never took a great interest in her. But now he liked the song and the voice.

♪ Come to my arms, my dear one,

my sweetheart, my own ♪

Alastor stood up and put on his froak coat. With a snap of his fingers the dirty plate became clean and it came in the kitchen cabinet.

♪ Kind night, bringing you nearer,

dearer and dearer ♪

Alastor beat the ground with the cane and the music stopped.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When Alastor came to the bedroom it was already deep night. He saw you wrapped in the blanket, lying facing the forest. He came up to bed and heard your softly breathing. Alastor made the lights dimmer and, coming to the other side of bed, his clothes changed into the satin dark red pajamas.

Alastor saw a sweet smile on your face. You brought your hands to the face squeezing the edge of the blanket in your fists. You looked like a little doe, so small and innocent. You curled up, and Alastor took out a woollen blanket from a commode. He climbed into bed and covered you with the wool.

"Alastor..." You murmured in sleep.

He froze. He heard millions times before, how you talked in your sleep, but you'd never talked about him. Hearing his name on your soft moist lips was more than he could stand. His heart beat faster, and he felt ache in his stomach. You were so close to him, he felt your milky scent and felt your breath on his lips.

You stretched out your hands and embraced him. He fell next to you on the blanket. You wispered his name again, and his heart melted.

"You'll never go back to your bed, dear," He wispered buring himself in your fluffy hair and embracing you. He placed a kiss on your crown, and you smiled.

Alastor yawned. How strange, he never felt drowse lying in bed, but when he was next to you, felt your warmth and heartbeat...

He didn't notice how he fell asleep, with his head resting on yours, which you laid on his chest.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

invitation for deerner: @serapinaxx @noraunor

p.s.

sorry for it taking so long, another busy week at university, and now i feel myself like Sleepyhead herself hahaha

i hope you liked the part two and i wish you all sweet healthy sleep and kind fluffy dreams ♡ ♡ ♡

[vipwinnie]

Love spell

Halloween special n°3

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: For fun, you decided to create a love spell and it may have worked

The day before Halloween was filled with excitement and anticipation, but I had something else on my mind. A certain Theodore Nott had occupied my thoughts for quite some time. He was charming, intelligent, and there was something about his mysterious demeanor that had me captivated. The problem was, I couldn't bring myself to talk to him, let alone confess my feelings.

That evening, my friends Hermione, Cho, Ginny, and I had a sleepover to celebrate Halloween's arrival. We had our share of laughter and spooky stories, but as the night went on, I couldn't shake the thought of Theodore. In a fit of giggles and a few too many sweets, I had an absurd idea.

"What if," I said to my friends, "I make up a fake love spell for Theodore ?"

They all exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. "A love spell? You really think that would work?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, her skepticism evident.

I shrugged. "Of course not, it's just for fun. I'll make up some ridiculous incantation, and we'll all have a laugh."

Ginny grinned mischievously. "Sounds like the perfect Halloween prank. Let's do it!"

So, we gathered our ingredients, a mishmash of herbs and candles, and I made up the silliest incantation I could think of, rhyming words with "Theodore Nott" and "hearts caught." We lit the candles and chanted the made-up spell, our laughter echoing through the room.

I went to bed that night, amused by our antics, thinking it was all in good fun and that nothing would come of it. But as I lay there, the room bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight, I couldn't help but think of Theodore one last time before drifting off to sleep.

The next day ,Halloween had arrived at Hogwarts, and it was a night of excitement, magic, and enchantment. I couldn't have been more thrilled to spend it with my friends Hermione, Cho, and Ginny. We decided to prepare for the grand Halloween party together in the common room of Slytherin House.

As we gathered in front of the mirror, the room buzzed with excitement. Cho looked devilishly stunning in her demon costume, complete with intricate red makeup and horns. Hermione, on the other hand, embodied an angelic presence with her flowing white gown and feathered wings. Ginny exuded a daring pirate charm, wearing a black vest, a tricorn hat, and an eyepatch.

And then there was me, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. My costume was a short, red outfit with a corset and a neckline that, I must admit, was quite revealing. I couldn't help but feel slightly self-conscious as I adjusted the hood on my head.

Hermione smiled warmly and fixed my costume with a gentle touch. "You look lovely, don't worry."

Ginny chimed in, "Absolutely, you're going to turn heads, especially Theo's."

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks, but I couldn't help but wonder if Theodore Nott would be at the party. I had secretly admired him from afar for quite some time, and the prospect of seeing him at the Halloween celebration added to my excitement.

After we were ready, we descended into the Halloween party in the Slytherin dormitory. The room was transformed into a spectacular spectacle of Halloween magic. Pumpkins adorned every corner, and cobwebs clung to the furniture. The haunting glow of candlelight added an eerie ambiance to the festivities.

As the night went on, we danced and mingled, and I couldn't help but feel more confident in my costume as I embraced the Halloween spirit. My friends were right; I was turning heads, and it was an exhilarating feeling.

Just when I thought the evening couldn't get any better, Theodore Nott entered the room. He was dressed as a dashing vampire, and my heart skipped a beat as our eyes met. The allure of his presence was undeniable.

As the night continued, I couldn't help but steal glances in Theodore's direction. The Halloween party was filled with enchantment, but it was Theodore who had truly bewitched me. I hoped that somehow, amidst the magic of the night, our paths would cross, and we would share an unforgettable moment.

But for now, I joined my friends on the dance floor, lost in the joy of the Halloween celebration, my heart brimming with the magic of the night and the enchanting possibility of love.

A little later in the evening, Theodore saw him approaching the dance floor. Maybe he was just going to dance a little, you tell yourself. But that thought was quickly put aside when he approached you. Theodore asked, "Would you like to dance?"

My heart soared with excitement, and I gladly accepted his invitation. He extended his hand, and I accepted it, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led her onto the dance floor. The music enveloped us. His hand rested gently on my waist, and I could feel the electricity of his touch coursing through me. 

We danced with grace and an unspoken connection, lost in each other's eyes. Time seemed to stand still as they twirled and swayed, their laughter blending with the music.

As the song drew to a close, he held me close, their breaths mingling. It was a moment I wished would last forever, a moment I would treasure as a memory that would stay with me, etched in my heart. 

 We swayed to the music, lost in the enchantment of the moment, and I couldn't help but wonder if the fake love spell had somehow turned into a real one.

In the end, it didn't matter. Whether it was magic or fate, I was finally getting to know Theodore Nott, and Halloween had turned into a night of enchantment I'd never forget.

[unrequitedloveletter]

Haunted- K.B x Fem! Sun Summoner! Reader

Okay, this was requested by @freddycarterswife​, and the only reason I’m making a separate post is because I didn’t want the post with her notes and mine to get too long and clog up anyones dash, so this was my solution! 

I have two more requests in my inbox and then my requests will be open again and I have a big plan coming up for my two year anniversary on this account (which is being combined with my 600 follower celebration because why not) so a lot is going to come out during the second half of this week! I’m looking forward to it and I can’t wait to start accepting requests again

Fic type- angst with a fluffy ending

Warnings- mentions of death, torsos and legs separating with the use of the cut, mentions of guns, mentions of cremation ashes

You’d fled Ravka in the last days before the war began, vowing never to let anyone know of your status as one of the only two sun summoners who existed in the world at that time. 

You fled to Ketterdam stashed on a cargo ship, having expected to find decent lodgings near Fifth Harbor and continue as you had, alone in your endeavors and without fear. 

You had enough money to get through your first week, and you found yourself in the Barrel. You saved Kaz from being jumped and got yourself a room in the Slat free of charge and a job working at the bar in the Crow Club on weekdays. 

Kaz must’ve noticed it right off the bat, the way with which you carried yourself and the way that you seemed just to exist. It didn’t feel like you were a girl who was down on her luck but rather a girl with a past full of secrets. 

But you worked at the Crow Club, you lived in the Slat, and you’d joined the Dregs nearly right off the bat. The money you’d brought with you for your first week dwindled quickly, but the money you made from the jobs that Kaz put you on the crew of made up for it twentyfold, at least. The money was good, the people great, and eventually, your life in Ketterdam was one you settled into; it grew into a secondary home, of sorts. 

You summoned the sun on a semi frequent basis to keep yourself from growing sick in the absence of your small science, oftentimes using it to bring light when your oil lamps had died and you were still reading, occasionally using it to bring you warmth when it grew cold in the Slat during the winter. 

By the time you’d lived in Ketterdam four years, Kaz came to you with the biggest heist yet. It was in Ravka, the theft of several important jewels and a few apparently priceless enameled eggs with promise of good money from Nikolai Lantsov and his wife, Zoya Nazyalensky. 

Nikolai had told Kaz to name his price and Kaz had promptly told him that his price was a minimum of forty million kruge. With those words, the deal was sealed and he’d come to you, asking if you were in or out.

You’d told him you were in, and that got you where you were, standing in a dusty hotel room near the location of the items that you were to steal and return to the palaces. 

Nina and Matthias were grabbing food at the small restaurant located inside the hotel, Wylan and Jesper grabbing ice and coffee grounds from the machines at one end of the hallway, and Inej was scouting, seeking any last minute details that could’ve been helpful when the heist was to go down within the following two hours.

“Be careful,” Kaz said, eyes watching the sun as it began to set. You’d been watching it, too. Four years since you’d last seen a Ravkan sunset. As it turned out, you’d missed them more than you thought. “This entire heist is a risk, Y/N. Try not to get yourself killed.”

A grin came easily to your face as you resisted the urge to summon an arc of sunlight, bright and blazing into the room. 

You almost wondered what would happen if you did. Kaz had long grown used to the two of you having your own secrets, and would he really care? Would he even blink at the fact that you could summon the sun, especially when one considered that Alina Starkov had died and at least ten sun summoners had been left in her wake? Would he really care about it other than connotating that, had you told him, it could’ve been a useful tool on a few of the jobs you did? 

“You too, Brekker,” you said. “Don’t die on me, Kaz. I’d hate to plan a funeral for you.”

He turned to you, and you caught a smirk on his face. “Well, I do at least expect a headstone. My enemies need something to spit on when they’ve heard of my death.”

“Nah,” you said. “No headstone for you or your enemies. I’ll cremate you, turn some of your ashes into a necklace and put the rest into a remake of your cane, provided I find a Fabrikator who can even passably replicate it.” 

“If you die, I’ll put your ashes into the water at Fifth Harbor,” he said.

“No, you won’t,” you rebutted. “You’ll put them into soil, and use that soil to plant a garden. I’ve got a will, Brekker. You will abide by it.” 

Kaz scoffed. “What, living in the Barrel make you so unoptimistic that you felt the need for a will?” 

“Living in Ravka did,” you said. “Not really a good place to live when the Unsea was expanding and a war was almost guaranteed. I left the day before the Darkling expanded it, haven’t been back around until now.” 

Kaz only nodded. It was another piece of your history that he didn’t know, another tidbit given to him, another tidbit that meant he would likely give you something in return. 

At that, the both of you heard Wylan and Jesper as they opened the door.

“Just don’t get killed,” Kaz said. “I am not the man who will put your ashes into soil or plant them into a garden, so keep your head, at the very least.” 

You shook your head, grin moving onto your face slightly. That was as much as Kaz telling you he loved you, and you’d find a way to tell him you loved him in return, be it that night or in due time. 

-

You were panicking. 

The jewelry had been procured, the enamel eggs in all their horrific, ugly glory were in the bags that you’d hauled over your shoulders. The guards had located you, though, and as fast as the seven of you were capable of moving, it seemed the guards were faster. 

You turned just in time to see two guards aiming their pistols at Kaz and Jesper. As though it were instinct, you raised your hands, summoned all of your power to the forefront of your mind. 

You were on autopilot, almost, as you summoned a blazing beam of light, held it in your hands, wielded it as a weapon of your own. 

And then, you released it. 

You watched in terror as your light sliced the guards in two from their torsos, hallowed screams leaving their lips as their knees toppled and their guns fell from their loose, dead hands. 

Everything stopped. Jesper, Nina, Inej, Kaz, Wylan and Matthias turned around, having stopped in their tracks. All of them looked to you instantly. Your throat dried and you hated yourself for the fact that you found you had no words. 

“You’re a--” Nina began, but Kaz cut her off.

“You can summon the sun, and you never told anybody,” he said.

You didn’t speak, only crumbled to the ground. You weren’t supposed to do that, and some part of you regretted it. But the other acknowledged that you’d done what was necessary to keep Kaz and Jesper alive. 

“Whatever,” Kaz said, deeming it unnecessary to carry what was almost a fight into a fight, be it with words or balled fists. “We’re leaving. This is done.” 

“Don’t leave me like this,” you said, finding the words at the least opportune time. “Please, don’t.” 

“May you find someone else to churn your ashes in the soil and make a garden out of them,” he said. “Because it won’t be me.” 

You surrendered the bags you’d carried to Nina, who looked at you pitifully, and watched the crows go. 

You left after what was probably fifteen minutes but felt like a thousand days, finding yourself in an alleyway, back pressed against the wall. Your ability to summon was always where things went wrong in life. 

It’d nearly gotten you killed when you refused to be the Darklings puppet. It’d nearly gotten you killed when Alina had come around and he realized he didn’t need to hold out hope that you’d come around anymore. Refraining from using it in longer pockets of time had nearly killed you, too. 

In the end, your ability to summon the sun had been what caused you to lose everything.

You felt the tears fall, and you let them. You’d be haunted by them, the friends you’d once had, for a lifetime, and that was the precise reason you couldn’t go back to Ketterdam. 

On the other hand, what choice was there? Would you go to the Grand Palace, plead your case and pray to the saints that Nikolai would allow you a room to stay in? 

Would you smuggle yourself onto a cargo ship just as you’d done four years before? Would you live a life somewhere new, perhaps Novyi Zem, where Grisha were considered to be blessed? 

You had no idea, but you knew that you would be haunted by Kaz Brekker, his crew, and Ketterdam for the rest of your life. There was no going back, not after that. 

It was just a matter of where, exactly, you would go.

-

You found yourself on Ketterdam soil six months later, the city chilly and the leaves changing as was typical with October weather. You found Jespers gaze in the same time he found yours, a grin easily coming to his face. He’d missed you, so it seemed. 

“Glad you got my letter,” he said as you stepped onto the dock. “I’d been going off rumor, mostly tidbits and things that Inej heard of you. Mercenary, hm?” 

You shrugged. “Needed something to do after that night. Figured that being a killer for hire was my best bet, and mercenaries make a shit ton wherever you end up. How’d you know I was in Novyi Zem, exactly? I’m good at keeping my locations under wraps so thick that even Inej shouldn’t’ve figured it out.” 

Jesper shrugged, shook his head. “You didn’t when you moved on from the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem. Maybe you subconsciously wanted to be found? Maybe you missed me, or a certain Barrel boss who dresses like he’s a businessman?” 

You laughed. “I’ve missed you and the rest of the Dregs, certainly, but Kaz? No. I haven’t thought of him since he left me after I’d saved his bloody life.” A lie, though it sounded convincing enough. 

You’d thought of him everyday, day in and day out. You were haunted by him, just as you’d thought yourself to be, haunted by him and by Ketterdam and the Crow Club. You’d vowed never to go back, but then Jesper had written to you and explained that Kaz wanted to discuss something. 

So, hesitantly, you left Novyi Zem, a place you were starting to think could be a home, and there you were. Walking to the Slat and talking to Jesper and ignoring the way that your heart could not stop racing at the thought of seeing Kaz again.  

Jesper only laughed. “Sure. I’ll believe that if you do.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him in retaliation, the rest of the walk being filled with updates on how things had been in Ketterdam and stories of Novyi Zem and the Wandering Isle in turn. 

Then, you were at the Slat, leaning against Kaz’s office door, not looking at him as he did not turn his gaze up from the heist he was planning to look at you.

You summoned a beam of sunlight to your fingertips, made a loose fist and flicked your fingers out, watching amusedly as a sliver of sunlight moved and skittered across the room to Kaz’s desk, glinting sharply against the inkwell that was within his vision and causing him to close his eyes and blink in confusion before he looked up and saw you. 

“Good,” he said. “You’re here. We’ve much to discuss.”

“We’ve nothing to discuss,” you responded. “Unless, of course, this discussion is to begin with you apologizing for leaving me in the dust when I was the reason you didn’t get killed, even if it meant I’d killed two other people as a result. I want an apology, Brekker, and unless you give me one, or, at the very least, a Brekker-ified version, this discussion is over before it can begin.” 

Kaz sighed as he leaned back in his office chair, gesturing to the coffeemaker he kept by the door. 

“You don’t look well rested.” 

“Nor do you.” 

“I can imagine that killing people leaves you with fewer resting hours.” 

You scoffed. “I don’t kill innocents, Brekker. In the four years we knew each other before you left me in the dust, I figured you could’ve deduced that the death of innocent people is strictly against my moral code.” 

“First off, you’re right,” Kaz said. “You saved my life that day. I know. I know it probably means I owe you, too.”

“The one thing you did owe me has just been given,” you said. “Not quite the words I was looking for, but good enough. Now, what do you really want?” 

“To start over,” Kaz said. “We could use a mercenary on the crew, and... people have certainly missed your presence here.” 

You grinned. “People being you, Brekker?” 

Kaz stayed silent, a begrudging look that said: you know exactly what I mean and I am not going to say it out loud because I am afraid that admitting it makes me weak by default lingering in the blue of his eyes. 

“Yeah, people being you,” you nodded, and he nodded. “One reason to agree, then. All I need is one reason.”

“The pay will be decent,” he said. “Better than decent. Name your price.”

“You really are desperate,” you laughed. “Missed me that much, did you?”

“Your price?”

“The biggest available room you have in the Slat,” you said. “My old job at the bar in the Crow Club, and the promise that, if I die on any heist in which I am included, you are the one who churns my ashes in the soil and uses them in the planting of a garden. Don’t care what you grow, as long as you’re the one doing it.” 

Kaz laughed, and the part of you that loved him responded like things were as they had been six months before, your heart giving a flit that you did not put aside. 

“You’re quite the easy bargain,” he said. “I agree to your terms. Welcome back.”

You grinned, and Kaz felt his heart begin to race just the same as it would’ve six months before, when he’d catch you grinning at one of Jespers jokes or something like a dandelion coming up through a crack in the cobblestones. When he would catch a grin that would come onto your face during the rarer sunny days in fall, most often happening after a series of storms, your face turned to the sunlight as you basked in it. 

“You don’t hate me for it still, do you?” You asked. “The fact that I didn’t tell you?”

“I did for a solid two weeks,” he said. “And then my only thought was that you saved my life and that I scorned you for it. I never really hated you, not for a moment. Do you still hate me?” 

You laughed, and Kaz felt his racing heart lighten into the weight of air. 

“I don’t hate you,” you said, approaching the coffeemaker. You started up a pot, grabbed a book from one of his shelves, and found yourself on the windowsill, just like you would’ve been seven months before, reading while he planned out the next big thing and feeling your heart swell every time you looked at him. 

You stayed there through the remainder of the day, occasionally summoning a sunbeam at the right angle while you chatted with Kaz, watching as a rainbow fell across the pages on which he wrote. You felt like yourself again, no longer haunted by Kaz and Ketterdam but rather, happy as ever to be back and in his company. 

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Character: Indiana Jones

Warnings/Important info: Fem reader, implied English or at least has been to Oxford University. Angsty, miscommunication.

Notes: I watched Indiana Jones the other day and obviously my first crush never leaves because young Harrison Ford as an archaeologist adventurer is just *chefs kisses*

It's bizarre really, potentially concerning, worrying to a degree, that after 5 years you know the back of his head from a glance. Suffice to say you try not to draw attention to yourself when you recognise who stands mere meters away from you talking to two of his students about antiquarianism.

Maybe you should have expected it, after all Henry Jones seemed to have a way of haunting you. Maybe you should have been prepared to see him, despite assuming that the United States was so vast that your move from the University of Oxford to Marshall College as a newly qualified Doctor of History would certainly not guarantee seeing him. Perhaps, it was the Moirai, the fates, trying to test your resolve or simply coincidence.

But, after five years without a single letter, a single telephone call or telegram, you certainly weren't keen to stick around and have a conversation with the man. Besides, you had lectures to teach, students to help, papers to grade (okay, maybe not the last one considering it was in fact the very first day of the academic year).

It is with a sharp back peddle that has you careering into a pair of students behind you with a clipped apology that you make your daring escape and it is a surprised call of your given name that has you freezing, turning about face and responding with a strangled "It's actually Dr. Y/L/N now."

"What? I'm not allowed to call you by your name anymore? Guess you've already recinded the right to call you Honey Bee too." There are students stopping to watch, what feels like the entire student body eager to watch the new History professor and the most loved Archaeology professor at each other's throats. A mystery arising from their familiarity and a curiosity at what history lay between the two. You certainly weren't eager to put on a show.

With a flick of the wrist you smooth down your skirt, turning on your heels and walk away calling out to him, "It was a pleasure to see you again, Dr Jones." It leaves Indiana gaping in the centre of the quad, watching the sway of your hips and the click of your shoes on the pavement as you leave him behind.

You choose to ignore the bubble of anxiety it puts in the pit of your stomach all day. Your lectures help to distract you at least somewhat from the reality that your former...you're not even sure what to call him...something, is present and working at the same university as you and you briefly wonder if it isn't too late to go back to your job at Oxford. You're sure Professor Haylett would let you come back, you might need to grovel a bit but...perhaps that was preferable to the potential mess that was being in close proximity to Henry again.

The last time you'd see each other, he'd been a 27 year old Archaeology professor. Young, dashing, charming, with every student at the University of London eager to please him and hoping the American would give them extra attention. You had been a 23 year old History PhD student, one of the few women allowed to do so, after much hard graft and determination. You had refused to let anything or anyone distract you from your studies, from your goal...and then you'd been told that he could help you with your PhD, that he had some specific knowledge on the Battle of Syracuse that you could use and...you'd found yourself suitably distracted. You would be being bitter and unfair if you didn't admit that in the year you'd known him he'd helped you with your thesis immensely...but he'd also put your reptuation at risk, broken your heart and made promises that he never would fulfil. Your mother was right...romance was certainly a tricky business.

You're so frazzled at the end of the day that you don't even recognise that your office has the lights on, if you had, you would have stopped before entering, instead you bulldozer your way in and stumble at the sight of him sat in a chair waiting paitently as if he wasn't phased one bit by your reappearance in his life.

"So, Honey Bee, you gonna tell me why I get such a frosty reception?"

"Yo-The absolute...I cannot...ugh!" You find yourself unable to stutter out a complete sentence as you slam the door shut, it reverberating on its hinges. "You have some nerve, Henry Jones! As if you don't bloody know!" You storm around him, putting the hard wood desk between the two of you and shuffling papers to keep from looking at him knowing he'd melt your anger in a second just with a smile.

He always had the most ridiculous ability to placate you and you wanted to feel angry today, not soothed like a skittish horse or malcontent cat.

"Sweetheart, if I knew I wouldn't have asked!" It's the silky smoothness giving away to frustration that causes you to look up, your bottom lip shuddering under the weight of the sadness that sits in your chest, old feelings that you thought you'd processed and put to bed coming to the surface.

"You promised..." He's silent, confusion deepening as you take a deep breath and begin to pace back and forth behind your desk, agitation growing with each movement. "You promised to write me, to call or send a telegram and you never did. I...I waited to hear from you and I heard nothing. So I am dreadfully sorry, Henry, if I do not feel particularly like pleasentries or intimiate nicknames in front of an entire cohort of students! I have had to earn my place and I am still fighting for respect and no man, one who doesn't even honor his promises, is going to ruin this for me!"

You are breathing heavily, body warm, shoulders rising and falling with every agitated movement of your lungs as he looks down at his lap. Silence falls between you for so long that you turn to look out the window of your office, at the street lamps with their warm glow, the last few students wandering across campus as evening sets in.

"I did...I wrote you." His voice is low, quiet, the sort of quiet that Henry Jones never was, so quiet in fact that you turn to check he actually spoke.

"I wrote every day for three months...half of it was stupid, five lines about my day or a single sentence to say hello. I wrote for three months, sweetheart."

"Three months?"

"Three."

"But, I never...how...if you wrote for three months then how on earth did I not receive a single one!" You're unsure if you believe him, at the same time you never knew Henry to be a liar and it...it boggles your mind. There's an impending sense of your world teetering on it's axis, emotional whiplash as you feel a soaring sense of hope, yet a feeling of disbelief, fear, all rolled into one.

"I don't know, honey, but I wrote for three months to 21 Hanover Street and you never wrote me back so I assumed...I assumed you'd moved on, found yourself a nice, sensible husband and gotten married!" There's an anger that you'd never noticed til now, a sense that he'd been hurt to, that he'd felt like you'd abandoned him. So far removed from the debonair, rakish persona he so often displayed.

"21 Hanover Street? You wrote to 21 Hanover Street?"

"Yes, goddamn it!"

"Henry...I lived at 12 Hanover Street."

"What?"

"I lived at number 12, one two, not two one. 12!" It is so absolutely absurd that you can't help but start laugh rather hysterically. That you felt abanonded all these years, angry, resentful, heartbroken and he'd simply gotten the wrong house number, a stupid, ridiculous mistake that had broken your heart into pieces, only to reforge it again.

"You're telling me that for three months I was writing to the wrong address...?" Henry is out of his chair, rounding the table and closing the distance between you so fast that it makes your head spin...or perhaps that is the effect of the emotional journey you're currently experiencing.

"I'm afraid so..."

"Goddamn it...well, shit, honey..." There's a pregnant pause as your eyes scan his profile, the frustrated set of his brow, the clench of his jaw, the familiar bend of his nose. He's not changed, not really. He's older, more lines around his eyes than last you remember, and a few more grey hairs, but then you're older too. Your first grey hairs finally settling in, the soft baby fat of your face having melted away somewhat over the years. But, he's still Henry and you're still the busy Honey Bee he used to chase around the library to the chagrin of the librarian. Things haven't really changed, you realise. With the removal of the one point of hurt between you, you can acknowledge that you still love him without the weight of anger or heartbreak pushing it down.

"Henry?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Kiss me." It makes you laugh against his mouth how quickly he follows your request, the scrape of his stubble against your skin an old, familiar sensation that you'd all but forgot. It was like coming home, so familiar that it sent a sharp stabbing sense of yearning into your chest even as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him.

The woodsy smell of his cologne surrounds you, the familiar tweed of his suit jacket scratches your arms, the soft strands of his hair through your fingers, the press of his nose against your cheek. It's like there hasn't been five years since you last kissed, like you hadn't been so angry with him up until five minutes ago that it hurt.

God, and to think, you'd nearly gone your entire life thinking he'd never cared. All because he'd mixed up two simple numbers.